#mw2 one shot

[shamelesswolftheorist]

Simon Riley lies in bed, your naked body pressed against his. Skin still hot and clammy with sweat. Both of your clothes - including his mask - are lying on the floor.

He has to suppress a laugh. The picture of him lying in bed with a beautiful woman at his side was ridiculous to him. Never, not even in his wildest dreams, would he have imagined himself so... content. Happy.

Happy. Once a foreign word. Long forgotten, overpowered by the disturbing and traumatizing events in his life.

But now, he could not stop being happy. Simon Riley did not know when it happened. He just found himself sitting in the rec room one day with you sitting on his lap and not being able to stop smiling. That's when he knew you were the one. The only one.

To be completely honest he couldn't stop smiling right now either. Your soft snoring, the slow rise and fall of your chest combined with the afterglow of what you did prior put him more at ease than anything else ever would.

Nothing would ever make him happier.

Nothing would ever replace you.

[caoimhewrites]

Firefighters

TF 141 + König as firefighters who help you out

CW: Mentions of fires/floods, minor injuries, mainly fluff WC: 1k

moved to @caoimhewritesfics

Ghost: You stood outside your office building, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to shake off the shock. The fire had been small, and contained quickly, but the panic was real. A shadow loomed over you, and you looked up to see one of the firefighters who had ushered you out of the building. “Sit still,” he said, voice commanding yet oddly comforting. You hadn’t realized until now how badly your arm hurt. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes flicking over the small, minor burn before he gently took your arm in his gloved hand. "It's not too bad, but we'll need to take you to the hospital anyway," he mutters, eyes focused on the bandages. “Thanks… for helping,” you murmured, wincing slightly as the burn stung. Ghost glanced up, his eyes softening. “It’s my job.” You feel your cheeks heating up slightly. "Thanks anyway," you give him a small, bashful smile. "You uh... see a lot of fires?" You regret it the second it leaves your mouth. Do you see a lot of fires? Seriously? Out of everything you could have said, why that? Before you faint from embarrassment, he chuckles. "How did you know?" You breathe a sigh of relief at his humor, your eyes meeting his brown ones, "Just a feeling."

König: You stood in your front yard, eyes fixed on the tree in front of you. Your cat was perched on a branch near the top, her wide eyes with fear. "Mrs Platypus!" you called, trying to coax her down. She meowed in response but refused to move. Panic rose in your chest. You'd tried everything, calling, shaking treats, even using the neighbor's ladder, but nothing worked. “You need help?” You turned to see a towering figure approaching. You swear you've never seen a man so tall. "I- yes." You nod, your eyes glued to the skyscraper of a firefighter. "I didn't call anyone or anything," you add. You were surprised to see a firefighter there on your lawn. "I'm off duty, I live next door. I thought you could use some help." he says simply and effortlessly reaches up, pulling your cat out of the tree. "What's her name?" You let out a chuckle of embarrassment, "Mrs Platypus..." He lets out an amused bark of laughter. "Really? Now that's one I definitely haven't heard before." He gently hands you the cat and smiles. You notice he has quite a nice smile. The way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Thanks. I thought I would never get her down," you thank him. He just smiles and says, "Anytime."

Price: The screech of metal against metal echoed in the dim light of the elevator. You pressed the button repeatedly, but the display above the door only flickered. Your heart raced, panic bubbling up as you tugged uselessly at the sliding doors. "Come on," you muttered, trying to calm your breath. You have no idea how long you've been in there. The emergency button naturally wasn't working and the service on your phone was pathetically weak. You were sure you were going to have a breakdown just before you finally got help on the phone. "Hey! You in there?" You froze for a moment. Was that… a man’s voice? "Yeah, I’m stuck," you called back, your voice laced with anxiety. "I need help. Please, can you get me out?" You heard the loud wrenching of the doors as they are pried open. They snapped open just enough for you to see the man on the other side. "Hey, love. You alright in there?" If your jaw dropped any wider it would be on the floor. He's gorgeous. "I'm fine," you nod rapidly, suddenly feeling like every word you've ever known has dripped out of your brain. "Sorry we took so long, love. Busy day." He gives you a wink and pries the doors open wider, extending a hand to you to help you out. You give him a small thank you as you take his hand and step out. "How ya feelin'?" He asks softly as he gazes down at you. You stammer for a moment, "good... great, excellent," you say rapidly, blushing like a tomato.

Gaz: The air was thick with smoke, the scent of burnt wood and fabric stinging your nose. Firefighters moved around you in a blur, shouting orders, directing people away from the ruins of the apartment complex. A hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. You looked up, blinking through the haze, and met the gaze of a firefighter in full gear. “Hey, you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and comforting. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My apartment… it’s gone. All my stuff was in there." He nodded, stepping closer. “We’ve got the fire under control now,” he said, eyes scanning the wreckage, “but I’m sorry about your place. That’s a tough break.” You sighed and nodded, "I'll figure it out." He thinks for a second, "You know, me and my team are heading back to the station after this. We can give you a ride somewhere if you want. We can even put on the sirens for you," He says teasingly and smiles down at you warmly.

Soap: The storm had ravaged everything. Floodwaters had quickly turned your neighborhood into a river. Luckily your house wasn't damaged too badly but you definitely couldn't stay. You were lost in thought when you heard the loud knock at your door. When you opened it, there stood a firefighter, drenched from head to toe, with a look of determination in his eyes. His dark, mohawk was soaked flat on his head, and his uniform was heavy with water, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hey, you alright in here?” His voice was warm, calm, but laced with urgency. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I—I don’t know what to do." He cuts you off, “Don’t worry, love. I’m here now,” he said, stepping inside without hesitation, boots squelching in the water. His steady presence was an instant relief. "We've got time," he says reassuringly as he gently helps you out the door. He catches you when you stumble through the water. "Careful, love. I got you."

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

[starkwlkr]

i didn’t like the ending | mark webber

an: ok so this is the last part but because i know some of you won’t like the ending i have planned, I’m giving you TWO endings and you can choose which one is canon in your head <3 so this one is the sad ending and i’ll try to post the happy one sometime this week!! thanks for reading <3

part 1 part 2

2025 Australian Grand Prix

The paddock was buzzing with energy as the Australian Grand Prix weekend kicked off. The first race of the season always carried a certain weight, but for Y/n, it was just another day at the office. She was here to focus on Oscar, to make sure he had the best possible start to his third year in Formula 1.

She hadn’t expected to run into Mark. Last she heard, he was busy traveling.

But of course, she should have. This was his home race too, and as Oscar’s manager, he was bound to be around. She had just stepped out of the Mclaren garage when she nearly bumped into him, stopping short as they locked eyes.

For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. Like they weren’t exes, like they hadn’t broken each other’s hearts, like they hadn’t spent the past decade trying to move on from something that had never fully left them.

“Hey,” Mark said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral, professional. She wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or hers.

“You look great.” Mark said.

“Thank you, you too,” she smiled and took a step back as if admiring his look. “You’ve got more grey hair now.”

Mark blinked, momentarily thrown off. His hand instinctively ran through his hair, as if to check for himself. “Yeah, well. . . it happens.”

A small smirk tugged at her lips. “I remember when we first got married, you joked that if you ever started going grey, it’d be my fault.”

His expression shifted—just for a moment. Surprise flickered across his face, followed by something softer, something unreadable. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” she said simply. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Mark opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. Instead, he let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “You always did remember the little things.”

There was a brief pause before Mark cleared his throat, shifting his weight slightly. “So, uh . . . I’ve been seeing someone.”

It was so abrupt that Y/n almost flinched. She hadn’t asked, hadn’t even hinted at it, but there it was. A declaration. A fact thrown into the space between them.

She forced a smile, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. “That’s great, Mark. I’m happy for you.”

He nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s great. We’ve been on a few dates.”

A few dates. Not serious. Just starting. She could hear it in the way he said it, like he was still testing the words, trying them on for size.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed past the ache that bloomed in her chest. This was good. This was what needed to happen. They had tried, and they had failed, and there was no point in pretending they could fix what had already been broken beyond repair.

Still, it hurt.

She forced another smile. “I’m glad, Mark. You deserve to be happy.”

He held her gaze for a second longer than necessary, like he was waiting for something—maybe for her to ask if he really meant it, if he was really moving on. Maybe for her to say something that would make him take it back.

But she didn’t.

She just nodded, said goodbye, and walked away before she could change her mind.

“Fuck.” Mark whispered as he watched her slip away. He wasn’t sure why he was even going on dates with someone. He didn’t mean to tell the woman he would move to go on another date. But one date turned into another and then another and now he was using the dates as a distraction.

Mark returned to Oscar’s garage and saw the Aussie on his phone. “I’m losing my mind.” Mark admitted to him.

“Does it have to do with my race engineer?” Oscar put his phone in his pocket. Once Oscar saw how hurt Mark looked, he stopped joking around. “You saw her. .”

“And I told her I’m seeing someone.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you have ever said. You don’t even like your date!” Oscar raised his voice lightly, earning looks from the Mclaren team. “You have to tell her it’s not serious.”

“Oscar, mate, I don’t think it’ll change anything. She’s finally happy and if she’s happy then I have to be too.” The older man started to walk away from Oscar.

“But then you won’t ever be.”

“As long as she’s happy.”

tags!!

@hc-dutch @5sospenguinqueen

[adorrrin]

FIRST MEET. - Simon Ghost Riley x Fem Reader short fic !!

— your husband, Simon, takes you to meet his best friend for the first time.

(divider from kodaswrld)

You laid in your husband, Simon’s arms. His hand absentmindedly running through your hair, other hand secured on your baby bump, gently caressing it. 

After you had told him you were pregnant, he had been more protective than ever. 

He was deep in thought, eyes focused on the ceiling. You knew that when he zoned out like this, it was because he was thinking of something serious. 

“I wanna take you to see Johnny, luv.” His rough voice gruffed, eyes trailing down to meet yours. 

Johnny. Simon didn’t speak much of him. You knew they worked together, but that was it. He always seems to go quiet when Johnny is brought up. 

“R- Really?” You choked, wide eyes meeting his. It was a true surprise; he never spoke of the man, and now he wants to take you to see him? 

“Yeah.” He whispered, slightly nodding his head. Simon had a tendency to be very…reserved. “It’s about time, I reckon.”

… 

And just like that, you two were sat in the car, in silence. The radio was off; this wasn’t a time for music, Simon said. 

Your hands nervously played with the ripped leather of the seat; a bad habit you had gained while being nervous. Simon didn’t mind though. Anything to ease your mind. 

The drive continued on in tense silence, Simon’s hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

He was never good at showing his emotions, so you got better at reading him through the little things. He was sat up a little straighter than usual, his jaw was clenched, and he occasionally moved a hand to his chest to touch his dogtags. 

He was nervous. 

After what felt like an eternity, the car stopped. Simon got out, walked to your side and helped you out aswell. It seemed like you were in the middle of nowhere. Is this where you die?

No. Surely Simon wouldn’t do that. 

His tattooed hand held your hand, starting to pull you along. You walked down a pathway, onto an open meadow, stopping by the cliff, overlooking the water. 

Oh.

“Hey, Johnny.” Simon gruffed quietly, his eyes zoned into the distant sunset. “Finally brought the missus around. Sad you couldn’t actually meet her, but I know you’re up there watchin’ us.” You stayed silent, even tearing up as you watched your husband speak to his late friend. 

“Even managed to knock her up.” He muttered, a chuckle-like sound following. “‘s a boy. We’re gonna name him Johnny.”

You two sat there, watching the sunset, Simon truly opening up to you. He told you everything about his and Johnny’s friendship, he told you how he passed, and everything after it. How Simon came here every week. 

After the sun had finally set, Simon let out a soft sigh. “We need to get going, luv.” 

“See you again next Friday, Johnny.” Simon spoke, before grabbing your hand, helping you up and beginning to lead you back to the car.

He opened his heart to you a little more today, and you’ll forever cherish that. 

______________________________

Simon pushed the stroller down the dirt path, your toddler son babbling in there, playing with his pacifier. 

Finally making it to the opening, he let out a sigh, “That path definitely ain’t made for strollers.” He watched the sunset with a smile again. “Johnny, meet little Johnny. Sorry we haven’t come by sooner, it’s been hectic since the birth.” Simon’s eyes were focused on little Johnny, as he took in another sharp breath. “You’ve properly met my wife now then, haven’t you?” Tears glossed his eyes as he moved his eyes to the sunset; it was more colorful than usual. 

“You better keep ‘er company until I get there. But not too much, eh? She’s still my bloody wife, even if she’s up there now.”

[moi5t-fk-fruit]

✩ Ghost Fucking You in a Alleyway ☾

Oneshot ⋆⁺Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader⋆⁺

⋆⁺₊⋆ Summary: While trying to avoid shadows, you and Ghost get stuck in between a tight alleyway. And sure Ghost’s gun is hard but not as hard as his dick pressed upon your ass. All your Lieutenant needs is a quickie!

⋆⁺₊⋆ Warning: Pet Names, Dirty Talk, Unprotected p in v, Creampie, Multiple orgasms, Semi Public Sex, Groping, Rough Sex, Praising, Breeding Kink, Gagging, Cummm. NSFW! SMUTTT! After Care? :3

⋆⁺₊⋆ A/N: This shouldn’t have taken me so long. Just enjoy plz and thx 4 reading cuties <3 Plz support by reposting ;3

Nsfw below the cut

Imagine…

Ghost and you sneak through houses and alleys, taking down any shadows in your way. Rain splashing with every footstep taken.

“Come here-" Ghost grips your forearm and pushes you against him as he leads you through the allyways.

You follow trying to pick up your feet to his speed.

Feeling your back on his armed chest as he tries to keep you close to him. He slows down and lowers his head close to your ear, you can feel yourself almost trip when his hot breath is on your bare neck.

“Trying to find somewhere secure. There's too many of them. Better to wait it out.“ he whispers close so only you can hear him. As you’re still trying to comprehend the situation, he brings you both to a stop and slides into a narrow alley.

He waves you over and you both try to get deeper where the street lights won’t expose you.

Running on adrenaline you both didn’t realize the alleys becoming tighter. Only when it was too late and you shuffle against him.

“No stop-“ he breaths out, you’re pinned against him and can feel him all around you.

“Fuck m’sorry sir.” you’re more than embarrassed, your hands are in front of you on the bricked wall.

“Just stay still.”

“Can’t stay still. Your so-hard against me-“

“What?” You can sense his eyebrows curling and even his lips forming a smirk but it quickly vanishes as your embarrassment got the best of you. You began to arch away from him and shuffle off of him.

“Y/n stop” He almost growls out. You ignore and try again, this time he’s had enough and his gloved hands grip the sides of your waist. Though the timing could’ve never been worse.

As he pushes you down you accidentally grind onto him, assuming the hardness on your ass to be a gun. Letting out a cut whine of discomfort.

Out of your sight, Ghosts head shoots back to the wall behind him, biting his lip to the point where blood could be drawn. Keeping quite.

“You mind moving your fucking gun lieutenant.” You stutter out.

“That’s not my fuck’n gun sergeant.”

His voice is somehow deeper and his accent thicker than you’ve ever heard, he’s desperate.

He’s hands are still on your waist as your eyes widen due to feeling the large imprint of his crouch on your ass. If your cunt wasn’t already wet from him being all over you, it’s soaked now. He lets his head fall to the crook of your neck. Your bodies fuming together. In defeat you let your head fall to his chest you can now see his balaclava and skull mask, his eyes are shut.

“Told you to keep still.”

Silence falls, you look up to the starry night. The storm now soaking you both more, feeling rain droplets fall on your face. Ghost focuses on your breathing and his hands that still grip on your waist loosen. Not wanting his gloved hands to leave your body you grab them, moving them lower to create a space in between the warmth your thighs. Your eyes flutter as he leads himself, his large hands squeeze and kneed your inner thighs. You turn your head close to his ear. Softly praising him to continue, he boldly moves his hand towards your clothed cunt and gropes you, you whimper and arch into his hand. He also turns his head to face you, admiring your slightly illuminated scrunched features as the pleasure gets to you. Ghost shuts his eyes when he grinds his dick against your ass again, much rougher, his lips parting open from the friction. You moan into his covered parted lips.

“Tha’s it. Jus like that pretty girl.”

He kisses you, it’s sloppy and full of hunger. You begin to kiss him back and his balaclava becomes wetter with the rain and the way both of your saliva starts mixing. He groans softly when you catch his bottom lip in between your teeth through his mask. Detaching after a slow tug.

“How about we speed this up-huh pet?" His other hand taking a hold of your throat and giving it a squeeze. You nod and with your own hands you unbuckle your cargo pants. Ghost takes his hands off your body and helps by pulling your pants down, below your ass. A short hiss leaving you as you feel the coldness of the night.

"Been wearing these along. Who could've known you were such a slut on the battle field." He says while soothing your cunt through your laced panties, his thumb applying pressure to your clit.

"Wear'em for you"

"Really?" He lets out a low cold chuckle, sliding your panties down to your pants. Moaning when he gives your ass a squeeze.

"hands on the wall sergeant"

You obey and hear him unbuckling his own pants, listening to him groaning when pumps his shaft a few times before tapping his wet tip on your cheeks. Ghost lifts you and slides his dick back and forth through your wet folds, feeling the girth and length as he humps you from behind.

“You okay with this doll? You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. I want it, please Ghost-”

“Fuck’n hell. You’re going to be the end of me.”

Ghost slides the tip of his dick to your entrance and slowly lets himself in and out. Your mouth agape and his hot breath bleeding through his mask into the cold air of the night. Thinking of the sight someone could catch you both in. Bent over and holding yourself against a bricked wall, the storm coving the lewd sounds carried with heavy breathing while your lieutenant fucks you from behind.

You both holding in the satisfaction of him inside you but failing as he slides his tip back out of you and slams his lengthy dick fully into your pussy. His heavy balls making contact with your ass and a splash occurring with the rain. Your loud moan cut out from Ghost coving your mouth with his gloved hands.

“Let’s keep those pretty moans for my ears only. Don’t want the whole city knowing I’m fucking you like this.”

Ghost continues fucking you, his dick deep inside your pussy, his balls splashing and hitting your ass with every thrust. You can feeling yourself at the edge of your climax.

“Need to cum Ghost- can’t go any longer…”

“Come on then pretty girl. Cum all over my cock, need to feel that fuck’n cunt tighten.”

He fucks you harder, until you moan ‘Ghost’ out, loud enough for him to take one of his gloves off and shove into your mouth. You cum hard onto his cock, tensing when tasting the metallic in your mouth as you whine into the his glove. Ghost shutters behind you, his cock twitching inside you as your walls tighten and your juices cover him.

“Gonna let me come inside you doll?”

You gag on the glove and he takes it out.

“Please Lieutenant, I need you.”

Ghost groans in the crook of your neck.

“Want me to breed your pretty pussy badly, huh-doll?”

“Yes-!”

You’re cut off with a hard slap on your ass and Ghost’s thrusting becomes unrhythmic. You listen to his hushed moans and heavy breaths as he stuffs his balls on your ass and coats your walls with his seed. You whimper from the feeling of his cock pulsing.

“Good girl, take it all in for your lieutenant.” Ghost continues riding out his high and doesn’t stop thrusting into you. He pulls your head back to see your face, only to find you practically drooling.

“You’ve gone cock dumb sergeant.” He chuckles and slows down, his cock softens inside you. Wiping away the drool with his one glove. He takes a hold of your chin as you both lock eye contact. From just the sight of him, your eyes shut and you cum on his soft dick. Ghost praises you through your second orgasm. You both feel the mix of cum dripping from your pussy down his shaft, undoubtedly staining Ghost’s pants. He groans while he pulls out carefully and you whimper from discomfort.

“You alright love?” He holds you, taking your now rough and wet hands off the wall, he begins to slowly massage them with his own calist hands. Until their back to their soft form inwhich he loves.

“Yes sir” You give him a warm smile that makes his pulse quicken. You rest your head back on his chest and begin lifting your pants up.

“Let me take care of you love-” You blush harder as he calls you that again. “-promise I’ll get you properly cleaned.” He slides your now drenched panties back up and pants. Buckling your belt for you, adjusting to the right fit. With the space you have you lean forward for him to slide his briefs back around his waist and pants. Giggling quietly when you hear him trying to rub off the cum that got on his pants with the rain. He wished you could see the smile that spreads on his face as he listens to your sweet giggles.

“We should get going y/n.” You hum, remembering where you really are. He helps you shuffle off him, trying to avoid anymore physical contact. You both begin to retrace your steps, now knowing the shadows are far gone. The street lights becoming more visible.

Before you get your gun out and focus back on the task at hand, you’re halted by Ghost turning you over to face him. He traps you against the cold wall with his large arms. You look up to him. Rain droplets failing from his skull mask and helmet. His eyes not leaving yours.

“Lieutenant?”

He detaches his skull mask and slowly lifts his balaclava up to his nose. Revealing the bottom half of his face. You observe his stubbled beard and slightly chapped lips, scars scattered around his face, one larger one extending across his lips. He looks down to your lips and his hands find the sides of your head. Ghost smashes his lips with yours. You both finding pleasure with his controlling mouth. Though he backs up and slides his balaclava back down, along with attaching his skull mask on.

“Let’s finish this mission and continue this later eh-sergeant?”

“Yes Lieutenant-”

“Atta girl.”

[littlecreampuffbirdie]

Simon was probably the most troubled kid you ever encountered.

You were used to kids with all kinds of backgrounds, even you didn’t come from the best of homes despite it being so much significantly better than many of your friends.

You sat down on his bed, watching the blond eat the leftovers from dinner you brought. You scaled his house to get to his window. Was it breaking and entering? Most likely; although, Simon did allow you over after you annoyingly begged. But damn, his dad was terrifying and you weren’t really allowed over.

“Wanna try coming home with me tomorrow?”

“…no.”

“But you can eat my mama’s cooking~ fresh.”

He gave you a side eye. “Y/n. I can’t.”

“Then I’ll have to kidnap you.”

“What?”

“Next year, when you’re eighteen, I’ll kidnap you.” You leaned on his shoulder. “Then you won’t have to worry.”

Simon bit back a snort, not wanting anyone to hear him. He had no idea how he ever attracted you, but he was glad. As weird as you were, you cared and that was something Simon treasured.

“I was planing to enlist,” he said.

“Enlist?”

You had briefly told Simon what you thought about the military before. The concept of protecting your homeland and family is admirable, sure, but there were issues with many military men. Such as your own father who had a gambling addiction.

“Why enlist? You could die—“

“I know.” He cut you off, anger bubbling slightly as you attempted to argue. “I’m doing it to get away; it’s my choice.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your lap. Fuck, did you just mess up? Is Simon mad you?

“Right, well, that makes sense… I hope it works out for you.”

Simon frowned. “I won’t leave you.”

“What?”

Hesitantly, Simon placed his hand on top of yours. “If you’re worried about me leaving, I won’t.”

“I think I’d have more concern with you dying.”

“Y/n.”

“Sorry.”

Simon sighed, placing the food down and wrapping his arm around you. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

[briefkittenearthquake]

when ur enjoying a fic then y/n gets a name and a race out of nowhere

(do i seem like a suzie to you????)

[lahnafreak]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ guns & kisses ! ༊*·˚

JOHN PRICE X READER 1.1K WORDS rewrite of an old snippet, fluff and teaching you how to protect yourself <3

John Price is a man who likes to keep you safe and warm; he already knows the best way to make that happen. He’s going to teach you how to kill a bastard, good and proper. He'll figure out the warm part on his own.

His hands stay in two spots respectively, one between your shoulder blades, and the other right under your rib cage. Both, to you, are equally distracting.

"Keep your legs spread, love." He murmurs, knocking a boot between your ankles. With a soft sigh, you shift your feet out an inch, and his beard scrapes gently against the side of your throat. It draws out the same reaction from you that frozen wind would, catching under your thick, woolen sweater and kissing your skin. "Yes, just like that."

Your brows furrow before you can stop it. "John," you start, but he's pressing up on your shoulders.

"Eyes forward. Start aimin' now, okay? The red bottle, not the blue or the yellow."

You sigh louder, just so he knows how disgruntled you are with his insistence. He rubs your back softly in response, but stays silent, not commenting on your purposefully loud attitude. John was a stickler about this.

In the end, begrudgingly, you lift up the pistol with a tight grip, squinting down the sights. Three gallon-sized jugs sit next to each other on a fold-out table, the middle one a bloody red. "Is this really necessary?"

His hand trails up your spine. "Yes. Nice and steady now," His calloused palm curves under your arm, lifting your aim up a few centimeters. "Nice and steady."

The ring you got him glints under the dappled sunlight, swaying from the forest around you. It's more distracting than not, your eyes trailing down to the gold band and the loving engraving you know lays on the inside. The sight brings heat to your cheeks, an odd, proud sense filling you.

Your friend laughed the first time you told her about it, and explained it away on the mere fact that you and John were newlyweds. It's been two years since then. Now, you're certain she's wrong. There's something more about seeing the evidence of his devotion, not that he's sparing in his physical affections. No, rather not.

Your face grows hotter.

You're sure he notices the moment your attention strays from his very important, necessary training— his words, not yours. With a small lean, he's pressed delicately against your back, molded to you.

John smells nice. Something clean, with the sweat from his morning workout lingering. You're surprised you haven't accidentally dropped the gun at this point, honestly. His wolfish heat invades your own body, warming you more than the sun.

"…gonna shoot, love?" He says, voice drifting between amused and serious, like he couldn't control himself. He tries to stay stern about your protection, but lessons like these usually end up in him laughing at you, the bastard. "The bottle isn't gettin' much stiller than that."

You barely resist the urge to glare. "Yeah, yeah." You say gruffly, shifting your weight to your right foot. His hand presses gently into your belly, then dips just over your navel. You swear your eyes almost go unfocused.

It's easy to tell John is trying to fuck with you just a little, no matter how staunch he pretends he is about this. His hand pauses right above your waistband, under your navel. Gentle, but just firm enough to make sure you can feel it, too firm to be innocent like he's trying to be now.

You want to complain and whine, but you focus on actually shooting the damn gun. Maybe it will get him off your back and into your pants instead.

A sigh almost leaves you at the thought.

You shift your gaze down the sights, and breathe in and out like John has been teaching you. He murmurs a quiet 'good', and you bite back a groan. He's being mean on purpose, you're sure of it.

Your shoulders bump back into his hard chest when you finally manage to take the shot, the recoil jerking you. You peek at the targets, gun lowering down to see better.

Of course, the blue jug is shattered. You really do sigh then, not from the same frustration John is pulling from you now, but the kind you get from messing up a recipe, or answering wrong in class as a kid. More disappointment than dissatisfaction.

John chuckles over your shoulder, deep and rumbling. "You'll get it next time, honey." He murmurs, and you can't even manage to glance back at the crinkled smile you know is on his face.

"This is stupid." You say childishly, setting down the pistol on the table, away from you both. A tick is in your brow, and he instantly leans into you more, hands curling around your waist.

"It's not and you know that." He gently tugs on you, wanting you to turn around but not forcing it. "This will keep you safe."

"Safe-schmafe. I'll just call you if someone tries to break in."

"And if I'm not nearby?"

"You can just... I don't know. You'll teleport over."

He sighs loudly at that, but when you glance up, he's biting back a smile. "Honey—"

"John—"

He does laugh then, leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "Please, just do this for me. You're already doing so much better than last week."

Your eyes follow his, looking at the perfect, shiny red jug. "No, I'm not. Liar."

"You wouldn't have hit a single jug last week." He reminds you firmly, despite his crinkled eyes. "Hell, you wouldn't have even remembered how to load the gun."

Finally, you turn around, pouting at him fiercely. "The whole point of marrying a military man was so I wouldn't have to do any of this."

"Hurts nothin' to learn it, love."

You roll your eyes at him, and something mischievous lights up in his stormy gray eyes. A spark of worry runs through you at the thought of what he's about to do, but you can do nothing to stop it as his hands grab at your butt, tugging.

"John—"

You fumble for his broad shoulders, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. He lifts even higher, and sets you down gently onto the ammo table, hips shifting back. He chuckles for a moment, but then becomes entirely serious, almost attacking your mouth with rough, scratchy kisses. The hands you were leaning into disappear from your waist, and a confused noise leaves you as your eyes fluttering open sparingly.

His are closed, but his biceps shift around you, holding something behind your back. It takes you a moment to understand, but when the magazine hits the table with a dull thump and the safety clicks into place, you just about melt into him.

He returns his full affections to you once the gun is fully dismantled and tossed to the side, hands dipping under your thighs and lifting them around his hips. You could live in this moment forever, if you could.

"Safety first?" You tease breathlessly.

He's far too focused to sigh at you. "Always. We'll learn that one tomorrow."

John yanks a rubber out of his back pocket and you fight the urge to laugh.

He always was such a stickler.

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Kiss Me More, Please.

Guys, idk what to say lmao, I've been obsessed with these men mostly thanks to @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts , the ultimate legend. This one's for the hoes fr

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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  It was a balmy Sunday, grey clouds hanging low, creating a dense fog. You had just been transferred from the states to an elite task force in Europe. Delightful. At 24, you had made a name for yourself as a sniper, over 20 kills with 6 badges of honor to show for it it was no wonder you eventually got sent to higher rankings. 

You just didn't realize those rankings would be in a pack with 2 alphas and 2 betas. As an omega, it puts you on edge a bit to share such intimate spaces with alphas. But, being completely honest with yourself, you can't deny they smell heavenly. John Price, the pack alpha, had a woodsy pine, undertones of cigar, and mint made a head spinning concoction, and you embarrassingly whined high in your throat when scenting him for the first time. 

The other alpha, Simon Riley, was a bit…harder to gauge a reaction. He was never mean, if a bit standoffish, at the dining hall he always made your tray and carried it for you. He held doors open, a protective hand on your back when guiding you places. He smells of cedar and eucalyptus, a faint patchouli pulling through.

God, why did these alphas smell so fucking addicting. 

Kyle Garrick was a sweet beta, with kind eyes, strong wide shoulders, and, in your professional opinion, one of the finest asses known to man. He was so sweet and open, he helped you put up tapestries in your room (with explicit permission as invading an omegas den could end badly) , always gave you extra snacks during training, Kyle was a true man through and through. He smelled of vetiver and amber noir. When you shoved your nose into his neck to get more, you picked up a tang…citrus.

 It wasn't your fault you usually ended up having to change your panties after hanging with him. 

Johnny MacTavish was the last one you met, a strong level-headed beta with a feisty sense of humor and a very good shoulder to cry on. He might've been the last to meet you but certainly the one you bonded to the quickest. He liked to sling you over his shoulder and take off through the training post your delighted giggles chiming through the wind. He was your go-to movie cuddle buddy, and he always had an open space on his lap for you. He smelled so fucking divine bonsai, cloves and an allspice lavender, anytime youre within his vicinity it usually ends with you in his lap, drunk of his scent and purring loudly. The smell of lilies, cinnamon, and chamomile wafted from you; it was soothing and the answering rumble from the betas chest had your omega preening.  

It's hard not to crush on him. 

It's been almost 2 and a half months since you arrived. Tf141 made it very clear their intentions on you by week 3, declaring they wanted you as their pack omega. They wanted to spoil you, protect you, and provide for you. The sudden declaration was sprang up by Johnny over a random breakfast at the table. You had gazed wide-eyed at all of them, almost like a deer in headlights. 

“I...um…I need to think about it…” Truthfully, you really didn't. You knew you wanted them. All of them. It was nerve-wracking you were younger, a bit more inexperienced in life and romance. What if they ended up hating you? Or being annoyed at your unknowing? What if you gave them your heart so beautifully beating, and they gave it right back, stabbed through with 4 shiny knives. 

You're unsure if you could live with that. 

So going on week 6 of being on task force, week 3 of confession, you have yet to give them an answer. It was crude of you, you knew it. But it was hard to form the words, hard to speak when your heart swelled to your throat and lodged itself there. Leaving you breathless and fumbling; spewing out nonsense in hopes of adoration. 

Right now was one of those moments you were sitting across from Price, fiddling with your fingers as you both gazed at each other in silence. You knew why you were called in here. You knew they wanted-deserved- an answer. 

"Come here, y/n." Your breath hitched, oh god, his voice. Deep, barretoned words woven with an authoritative spike. You felt too hot, too seen under his intense gaze. Swallowing the lump forming, you gathered what small ounces of courage you could. Straightening your spine under the alpha's eyes. 

  "No." It came out more steady than you expected, and if the raised eyebrow of John was anything to go by, he wasn't expecting the answer. It emboldened you, made you feel taller, bigger than the man in front of you almost. 

  "No?" 

  "No. You come to me…please” And oh boy, did he take it as the invitation it was, eyes twinkling in amusement, something darker brewing in them. He pushed himself up from the chair, walking round the desk to stand directly in front of you. Your head tilted back to stare up at him, mouth parted as the courage left you in a swoop. 

John's hand grazed across your jaw, thumb trailing down your throat before cupping your cheek. It was nerve-wracking, being in the presence of a God with nothing but mortal thoughts to shield you. 

  "The last time I was told no, I tore the man's throat out where he stood." A gasp left you, tensing just slightly under his palm. Was it a threat? Was it even true?? Maybe you read the room wrong. Maybe he was sizing you up. It's not like you had to wonder long. He tutted, pulling you from your thoughts as his other hand swept stray hair from your face. 

  "I find you enrapturing, Y/N we all do. You have bewitched us. And I would let you say anything to me. Anything. And now I'm asking you to please say how you feel. You know we want you, we see you as our omega. But we want you to want us. Do you?” You didn't know what to say, speechless in the hands of a prophet. The way he spoke was hypnotizing, and you leaned into his touch, hands grazing up his muscular chest until you cupped his jaw on both sides. Tugging him down, and my my my did he bend to your whims. Noses bumped together, breaths mingling, and you looked into his eyes. 

  "I-I…want you guys too. I want to be the pack omega” A stuttered breath in from the alpha in front of you had that flame of courage coming back full force. You gripped him harder, tilting your child up.

“Kiss me, please." A huff of air, and he was on you, kissing you so sensually, so sweetly you wondered if you would drown in its bliss. It was as cliche as every romance book ever said, wanton and needy with touch of his lips on yours. And God wasn't it unfair? To have euphoria in human form, holding you, kissing you like you hung the stars. 

And when he finally pulled back, both of you panting, foreheads pressing against each other. You only had one thought. 

  "Kiss me more, please." 

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

Roaches first mission

that mission in brazil sucks so bad but the content is so worth it

[jealousofmydreams]

mean!price who was a mercenary but gained the title of a baron when he aided the king during the war. with the lack of man power, the group of bandits were seen as saviors from the common people. therefore the king had no choice but to reward them, much to his dismay.

but price, who knew the ploys of powerful rich men, wanted more than a title which had no guarantee of safety for him and his men. he wanted a noble wife fron a distinguished lineage who will give him heirs and a name that will remain untouchable.

the king, having no daughters, procured the daughter of a marquis. much to the chagrin of the marquis who had to send his one and only daughter, renowned as the flower of spring, to a mercenary.

however, upon the wedding night, the veiled bride turned out to be the marquis hidden illegitimate child who bore no reassemble or sophistication of a noble woman.

instead, a scrawny woman who couldn't even hold her head up high was his bride. nothing like the infamous woman he was promised.

furious, price could not even retaliate as he was given the daughter of a marquis as promised, even if it was an illegitimate child.

price returned to the battlefield instead of residing with his new bride. leaving her to fend for herself in a castle where she held no true name. the servants and the maids paid her no mind.

she was a baroness in name only and remained a ghost within the foreign walls of her new home.

the years passed by until her husband finally returned, only in a coffin. a battle taking his life after playing with death for so many years.

however, on the day of his burial the once dead man came back to life, with only her name on his lips.

the hateful man who detested her so intensely clung to her as if she was his lifeline.

as she took care of him, a man who lost his memories but only she remained, she slowly realized the man who came back to her wasn't her husband, but a being that did not belong in this realm.

even so, she could not bear to let him go. the lonely girl craved the warmth that only he gave to her.

however, it wasn't long before the unknown entity and the soul of the dead man clashed and both vied for her affection.

(price making a deal with an unknown entity as he was on the verge of death, he wanted fame of his name. he gave his body so he could return and gain what was rightfully his, glory.

however, caged in his own body, his soul forced down to the deepest and darkness part of his being, price gained affection as he watched the play of romance between the entity wearing his face and the wife he neglected.

for once price desired something beyond greatness, but what was once rightfully his, was given away by his own hands, to the beast who refused to give it back)

[paige1722]

Silent Night

Summary: It is Christmas time in your village. The weather has taken a drastic turn, and everyone fears that the blizzard will never end. The people become desperate and willing to take any measures necessary to save themselves, even if it means sacrificing one of their own to a once-forgotten demon. 

Pairing: Krampus!Konig x GN!Reader

Warnings: Krampus, death, google translated German, violence. 

Merry Christmas!!! If you want to read an alternative version where the reader gets revenge, it’s here.

The village you call home resides in the middle of the forest, a few day's journey from the nearest town. This usually means nothing really exciting ever happens here; everyone knew one another, and nothing stayed a secret for long. This year, things had been different. The weather grew colder earlier than normal, the fields did not produce much food, and the hunting expeditions proved to be unsuccessful, with only being able to get small game, such as rabbits and squirrels.

The blizzard that came to the town a week ago did not seem to be lessening in strength; in fact, you even believe that it was getting worse with every passing day.  As you looked out of the window of your small cottage near the center of town, where you would usually be able to see your neighbors, the bakery, and the church in the middle of the town. But with the blizzard, you could barely even see your small garden in front of your doorstep that is now destroying your precious plants, and all the hard work you put into it over the spring and summer. The harsh wind caused the window panes to groan, and the snow kept piling up more and more. You wager that pretty soon, it will be impossible to leave your cottage. 

If it wasn’t for the small fireplace keeping your cottage cozy and warm all this time you are sure you would have already frozen to death in this horrible winter. A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. Wondering who would be at your door so early in the morning, especially in this weather. Making your way to the front door, you open it to see Philip, the assistant to the village leader; opening the door more, he quickly makes his way inside after kicking off the snow from his boots. Once inside, he makes his way towards your fireplace placing his hand in front of the fire, trying to gain some feeling back into his joints. 

“Philip, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you asked, closing the door behind him and moving to stand in the middle of your living room. 

He turns around, placing his hands around his back to keep them in front of the fire; you are now able to get a better look at him. He looks thin, sickly almost. The food shortage must really be taking a toll on him, his face is unshaven, and his once nice thick animal fur coat has seen better days as it looks to have been ripped apart in some places and hastily sewn back together, surely a child you have done a better job fixing his jacket. 

“Yes, I have been tasked with letting everyone know that at noon today, there will be an emergency village meeting in the church. It is mandatory for everyone to be in attendance.” 

You feel your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. There had not been an emergency meeting called ever since you were a little child, and there had been a huge wildfire that nearly destroyed the entire village; a lot of lives were lost that day. “Oh, okay. By any chance, do you know what the meeting will be about?” 

At your innocent question, Philip squints his eye, looking at you up and down suspiciously, clenching his jaw and taking quick steps towards you. He points an accusatory finger in your face, causing you to step back at his fast approach. “It does not matter what the meeting is about. You are required to be in attendance, understand?” 

Your back hit the wall separating the living room from the kitchen; setting your hands flat against the wall to your back, you nod your head in shock, confused as to why he is acting this way. Philip was usually a kind man, not quick to anger. This was a different side of him you had never seen before and did not want to see again. “Yes, I will be there,” you reply in a shaky voice, startled by the sudden mood shift. 

Suddenly, like the drop of a hat, he steps back from you, smoothing down his jacket and giving you one of his signature smiles. Chuckling, Philip walks back toward the front door, his hand on the door handle when he looks back over his shoulder over at you, where you are still pressed up against the wall. “I look forward to seeing you at the meeting then,” he winks as he opens the door, letting himself out back into the cold. 

Once the door shuts, you let out the breath you had been holding, unsure why he was acting so strange. What does it matter if you were not going to attend the meeting? Though with his reaction at the thought that you were not going had him acting like that, you fear to think of what he would actually do if you failed to make an appearance. Not to mention, you are very curious as to the details of this emergency meeting; perhaps it was about food rations or the never-ending blizzard. You walk into your kitchen, planning to fix yourself a small breakfast, as you retrieve what little bread you had left from the bakery and some jam; this would have to do you until supper time after the meeting. The rations you were given earlier in the week dwindling faster than you would have liked. Sitting at the small table in the kitchen, you enjoy your breakfast, again thinking about the strange encounter with Philip and his sudden change in attitude and demeanor. After finishing your bread with jam, you decide to do some chores around your house to waste time until noon.  

—----

You glance at the small hand-carved clock on your wall. Seeing that it is a quarter past eleven, you make your way to your front door, putting on the thickest coat you own, your gloves, and winter boots. Opening the door and closing it behind you, you wrap your coat tightly around you, pulling up the collar to cover the bottom half of your face as you venture down the snow-covered stone path that leads throughout the village. You see your neighbors already making their way inside the church. Two men stand outside wrapped in thick fur jackets and hats, each holding lanterns to light the path to the church, a way to help people see through the thick snow falling from the sky. You trudge through the thick snow, carefully walking up the ice-covered steps to the entrance. The two men, who you now recognize as Simon and Johnny, who are the town’s butchers, open the massive doors. You mumble a quick thank you to the men and make your way inside the warm church. Not noticing the sympathetic look they send your way as you walk past them.

Looking around the massive sanctuary, a long line of lit candles operas on either side of the pew give the room an almost eerie glow. You realize you are one of the last villagers to arrive, seeing as most of the pews are already filled to the brim with people waiting for the meeting to start. You decide to sit in the back where there is still a little bit of space left, sitting next to one of your more elderly neighbors, you give a small smile in greeting, not having interacted with them much before. You take off your thick jacket and hang it on the back of the pew you were sitting on, and continue looking around the room. At the front, standing in front of the pulpit, stands Philip Graves, talking in hushed tones to the village leader, Shepherd. They look to be arguing, judging by the looks on their faces. Philip turns his head, looking near the door, when he makes eye contact with you, but instead of acknowledging you as he normally would in passing, he turns back to Shepherd, whispering in his ear, both of them now looking more relaxed than they were just mere seconds ago, another strange occurrence happening today, something in the air you supposed. 

The front doors slamming closed behind you cause you to jump a bit, turning around in your seat to see Johnny and Simon standing inside the church, placing the lanterns on the golden hooks on either side of the doors. Instead of finding a seat in the room, they move to stand in front of the doors, reminding you of guards to a prison cell. A throat clearing causes you to turn your attention back to the front of the church, where Shepherd now stands behind the podium with Philip by his side.

“Thank you all so much for joining us today for this emergency meeting. We know that things have been tough this year with the lack of game and crops and now this never-ending blizzard. But fear not, your village leader and others have come up with a solution that will surely save us all from this torment.” 

Applause erupts throughout the church at this news. For some reason, you feel a sense of dread overcome you at this news. Something about this whole situation does not sit right with you. Why is Philip staring at you so intensely? Why was it so important that you come to this meeting, and why are Simon and Johnny blocking the exit like that? All these questions run through your head, causing you to break out into a cold sweat. Shepherd once again starts talking, making everyone stop their applause. 

“Now, I know you all must be wondering as to what the solution to our problem is. Philip and I have been scouring the old texts, trying to find anything that might be of help to save our village from this ongoing turmoil. After a many sleepless nights, we finally came across this.” 

Philip holds up an old leather-bound book with a small bell engraved on the front; the pages look worn and old, as if it hasn’t been used in decades. Placing the book down in front of Shepherd, who continues his speech, “In this book, we discovered a chapter that describes exactly the events that are taking place before us today: no food, endless winter that ends in nothing but death for all of us unless we act now! This book tells of an ancient being, whose name shall not be uttered here, that is the cause of all this. Apparently, we have managed to anger him last Christmas during our festivities, and he is now taking it out on us. To appease his wrath, we must give him an offering. There was a list of rules that must be followed or else the offering will not work and just invoke more devastation upon us. After careful consideration, there is only one person who fulfills the demands.” 

Shepherd locks eyes with you, you feel your heart pounding in your chest, the room suddenly becomes too hot, sweat beads down your face. You see his mouth moving, but you can hear nothing over the ringing in your ears. Everyone in the conjugation is now staring at you, waiting for what you aren’t sure. Stumbling, you stand up, still facing the front of the church, and slowly begin backing up towards the door, but before you can make a run for it, hands wrap around your arms on both sides looking to see who has you in their grasp; you see Simon and Johnny with solemn looks on their faces. They begin dragging you to the front of the church. You try to pull your arms from their grip, but is it no use; kicking your feet, trying anything to free yourself,  tears flow freely from your eyes. You look around at the people of your village pleading with them hoping that someone, anyone, will help you, but as you make eye contact with the people you grew up with they simply turned their heads looking down at the ground a guilty expression on their faces. Reaching the front of the church, Philip grabs you from the grip of the two butchers; Simon whispers an solem apology in your ear as they hand you over to your inevitable demise. 

Your back is pressed against Philips's chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you in place. He rests his chin on your head, “Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal once the demon has his offering! Return to your homes and await the glorious rewards that will be gifted upon us all!” He yells out, his chest rumbling against your back. You let out a whimper. as you watch everyone slowly rise from their seats and make their way toward the entrance of the church, leaving you with Shepherd and Philip. “Please don’t do this, there must be another way!!” you yell out desperation clear in your voice, but it is no use; the front doors slam shut as the last of the villagers return to their homes. 

Shepherd grabs a rope from his pocket and stands in front of you, “Ah fear not. Think about the good your sacrifice will bring to the people of this village, all the lives you will save.” His gaze moves towards Philip, “Take her to the back for them to get her ready.” He pulls your wrists together in front of yo,u tying them tightly together. Once the rope is secure, Philip lets go of you and grabs the rope, binding your hands together pulling towards the back of the church. Sniffiling you let Philip drag you down the dark hallways leading to the offices. Opening the door to Shepherd’s office, Philip throws you inside the room, causing you to fall, hitting the ground causing a shockwave of pain through your body from where your knees and elbows slam against the wooden floor. 

“Here, get them ready,” Philip says as he shuts the door on his way out. 

Pulling yourself to your feet, you see who he is talking to. Valeria stands in the center of the room, a bored expression on her face, her arms crossed in front of her chest. The room is empty, apart from a single chair and table in the middle of the room, a red silk robe, a veil, and two small boxes. Sighing, she steps forward, pushing you to sit in the chair in the middle of the room.

 Grabbing her arm, you try to plead with her, “Please, Valeria, you have to help me. They mean to use me as some sort of sacrifice to a demon, please.” She rips her arm out of your hands, slapping you across the face. A disgusted look crosses her features as she replies, “Shut up, your sacrifice is what is best for the village. So stop crying. You are only going to make this worse for yourself and ruin the work I am about to put into making you look presentable for him.” 

Your face now burning the slap, you sit in defeat, feeling all forms of fight leave your body; even if you did manage to escape from this room, there was nowhere you could go, the other villagers already showing you that they don’t care about you if you went back home they would just find you and drag you back to where you are now, and if you tried to run for it, you would surely die due to the elements. 

Valeria grabs the silk robe, scrutinizing at your hands that are still tied together, “No funny business, understand. Just put this robe on.” you solemnly nod in return; she grabs your hands and begins to untie them, placing the red robe in your hands. You stare at her, waiting for her to turn around so you can change, but you quickly realize that will not be happening. Trying to save the little dignity you have left, you take off your sweater, putting the robe on, hoping that she will let you keep your warm pants on but she snaps and points to your pants. “Just the robe. It is the rules.” Taking off your pants and placing them in the small pile of clothes on the ground, as you are done, she immediately grabs your hands, tying your wrists back together much tighter than they were previously.

Every movement you make now causes the rough fabric of the rope to rub against your skin. Looking down at the robe you are now wearing, you quickly realize how thin the fabric is. It is definitely not something you should be wearing during this kind of weather, probably to make it more convenient for the demon to kill or eat you. Valeria motions for you to sit back down in the chair with her hand as she opens one of the small boxes laying on the table inside was filled with small paints usually reserved for weddings and other important ceremonies, she begins to draw strange symbols upon your skin, leading from your face, down your arms to your chest. Once she is satisfied with her work, she reaches for the matching red veil, placing it upon your head; you are still able to see through the fabric of the red veil, though it does give everything a strange blurry tint. 

All that can be heard in the room is the occasional sniffle coming from you, trying to hold back any more tears from falling, knowing that Valeria would not be happy with you if you ruined the writing she had just finished putting on your skin. When the door opens and Philip and Shepherd both enter the room, “Are you finished yet?” asks Philip, walking to where you sit inspecting Valeria’s handiwork. 

“Just have to put on the necklace, and we are all set,” she says as she grabs the remaining box sitting on the table, opening it to reveal a beautiful golden necklace with a small pendant that looks very similar to the bell that was engraved on the front of the leather book that they were referencing during the emergency meeting earlier. She places the necklace around your neck, fastening it in the back and tucking it underneath the robe you were forced to wear.

 Everything started to feel too real at that moment. What was about to happen to you setting in, causing you to let out a whimper, but before you could begin pleading for your life, hoping to somehow change their minds, Sheppard pulls out a small piece of cloth, “Now we can’t have you making all that noise, the demon would not appreciate that.” He lifts up the veil, shoving the cloth in your mouth and tying it around the back of your head, effectively silencing you and placing the veil back over your face.

 Shepherd claps his hands together, taking a step back, “Thank you for your help, Valeria. Alright, Philip, grab them and let's go.” Philip grabs the rope around your wrist, dragging you off the chair, the rope squeezing your wrists, causing you to let out a pained gasp that is muffled by the cloth in your mouth. They drag you back out to the sanctuary of the church towards the front door, where you see Simon and Johnny once again holding the lanterns. Once you reach them, they open the doors for you all, dragged out in the snow wearing nothing but the thin robe the freezing air immediately making goose-bumps form on your skin, you let out an involuntary shiver, the ice, and snow covered ground causing your feet to burn with every step. Johnny and Simon now lead the way with their lanterns. Shepherd is in the middle of them telling them which direction to go in, with Philip following close behind, pulling you along with him into the dark forest. 

—-

Walking for what felt like hours, you can no longer feel your legs, you're pretty sure your wrists are now bleeding due to the rope rubbing against your skin, causing it to break. Every intake of breath hurts, the cold air burning your lungs and throat. As you all reach a clearing in the middle of the forest where only a single tree stands surrounded by small torches sticking out of the ground, everyone stops walking. 

Philip yanks you towards the tree, pulling out another rope from inside his fur jacket, and ties one end of the rope around the rope, holding your wrists together. Once secured around your bound wrists, he throws the other end of the rope around one of the lower hanging branches of the tree and pulls the rope until your arms are straining above your head and your toes are barely scraping the ground. You let out muffled groans of pain and fear. He secures the rope around the trunk of the tree, stepping back and joining Shepherd, who stands in front of you. Johnny and Simon are walking around to the torches, lighting them with the fire from their lanterns. Shepherd reading through the leather-bound book, a look of malice taking over his face, muttering to himself, “This time, we will get him.” 

Once the last torch has been lit, and all four men all standing in front of you, Johnny and Simon looking anywhere but your face. Shepherd says, “This is where we leave you. Thank you for your sacrifice.” before turning with the others and leaving you to your death.

 As you watch them all walk away, the light from the lanterns slowly fades away until you can no longer see it. You begin to try to free yourself from the tree. Tears run down your face and neck, causing the writing on your skin to smear, bleeding into the fabric of the robe tied around your body. You try and scream to the best of your ability, but the cloth in your mouth muffling your shouts sounds more like a wounded animal. Flailing around trying to somehow untie the ropes on the tree or your wrist, but all you end up accomplishing is tightening the knots, burying the rope farther into your skin, the blood from the open wounds on your wrists running down your arms. You are now sobbing uncontrollably, resigning yourself to your inevitable death, whether it be freezing to death, the demon or whatever it actually is killing you, or some wild animal finding you first. 

Running out of energy from the walk here, crying, failing around, screaming, and the cold that has turned your entire body numb, you begin to feel tired, struggling to keep your eyes open, thinking to yourself hopefully your sacrifice will not be in vain and the people of your town will be saved. Until, from the darkness, you begin to hear the distance sound of bells jingling closer and closer. Eventually, you hear the crunch of snow as if someone or something was walking towards you. 

You try and blink the tears from your eyes to clear your vision, but with the veil still covering your face, your vision still remains blurry, a huge figure emerges from the trees, standing nearly seven feet tall with twisted horns protruding from underneath the dark red hood covering his face and body. With every step it draws closer to you, you catch small glimpses of the jingling of bells hanging on a chain wrapped around his torso from underneath the red cloak. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, fear overtaking your body, causing your adrenaline to rise, once again trying to pull your arms free. He stops right in front of where you are hanging from the tree, even dangling in the air, the top of your head barely level with his chin. The soft glow from the torches circling you gives off an eerie glow to whatever is standing in front of you, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, though you swear that you can see eyes staring right through you. Realizing that this is the end for you, you let out muffled whimpers, not caring how pathetic you must seem right now. 

“Warum bist du hier draußen?” The demon in front of you utters, staring at you expectantly for your answer. 

Even if you were somehow able to understand what he had just said, you would not be able to answer him anyway, so you just shake your head, replying with a muffled what. You see its head tilt to the side in confusion before a gloved hand reaches up and pulls the veil off your head. Your vision is no longer obstructed, and you are able to make out the being in front of you more clearly. A flicker of the light from the torches illuminated the masked man in front of you. 

The mask peeking out from under the hood had twisted horns sticking out of the forehead, where the eyes would be were two holes his eyes shining through the darkness, and the mouth was open with sharp teeth and a long red serpent-looking tongue carved onto the front of the mask, reminding you of the old stories your grandmother used to tell you when you were a small child of an ancient demon who arrived during winter to steal and punish the naughty children. Your eyes widen in realization, muttering, “Krampus.” Even with the cloth still in your mouth, he must have understood you, as you hear a small chuckle in return. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me then. It has been a while since I have been called that, just call me Konig.” His accent is thick as he speaks, reaching for the cloth impairing your ability to say. He pulls the fabric out of your mouth, letting it hang around your neck. “Now, let's try this again, ja. Why are you out here?” 

Sniffling and your teeth chattering because of how cold you are, you manage to say “They said I was supposed to be some kind of offering to save the village. I…I don’t know anything else.” Sobs rack through your body. Looking back up into the eyes of the demon before you, you notice that little black dots begin to swarm your vision, the ringing in your ears was back the cold, pain,  and everything was begining to seem so far away. Using the last bit of strength you had left before you passed out for what you assumed would be for good, you mumbled, “…I don’t want to die.”

Your head lolls backwards, causing the necklace to be pulled out from underneath the robe, catching the eye of Konig whose eyes widen at the pendant hanging from your neck. He quickly pulls out the hunting knife from its sheath on his belt as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling to the ground. He cut the rope around your wrists, your unconscious body falling forward into his chest. He feels the cold from your body seeping through his gloves and cloak. He removes the cloak from around his body and wraps you up in it as best he can to hopefully begin warming you up. He cradles you in his arms as delicately as he possibly can as he whispers to your sleeping form, “Es wird alles gut. Ich werde dich beschützen.” 

—---

You feel warm; whatever you're laying on is soft and fluffy. Peeking an eye open to take in the surroundings, you notice that you are on a bed of thick animal furs in some sort of cabin. The room you are in is small, with nothing really in it besides the bed, a small lantern placed on a bedside table, and a large mirror placed next to the door. You sit up in the bed, and you notice that your wrists no longer hurt, you look to find that both of your wrists are delicately wrapped in bandages. Hearing noise coming from the other side of the door, you pull back the furs covering you to slip out of the bed and make your way towards the door. Once you are standing, you look in the mirror so that you get a better look at the new outfit you are wearing. A red knitted sweater you now wear with black wool pants; examining your arms, face, and neck, you don’t see any traces of the strange writing Valeria placed on your skin. When the sounds of movement behind the door once again grab your attention. Walking towards the door, you slowly open the door walking out into what looks to be the main room of the house. 

Stepping out of the room, the first thing you notice is the Krampus or Konig you vaguely remember him saying is his name, he sits in the corner of the room with his back facing you, hunched over a crafting table lined with various tools on the wall. Along with the tools hanging on the wall, you see the mask Konig was wearing when he found you in the forest, placed gently on a small hook. 

As you walk further into the area you look around the room you are now in what you assume is the living room with the front door next to the small room you just exited, a window on the other side of the door, a small fireplace in the center of the room with a cozy chair facing it, two other doors on the opposite side where Konig sits, and a corridor that look as if it leads into what you assume in the kitchen. You let out a small hum, this house is much smaller and cozier than what you would have assumed an ancient demon who abducts and punishes bad children would live in. During your observation of the house, you failed to notice that Konig had stopped working and was now standing facing you, the mask back on his face. 

“I was starting to think that you would not wake up.” His voice startling you in the otherwise silent house. 

“How long was I asleep?” you ask tentatively, thinking that it was probably just a couple of hours, seeing that it was still dark outside, judging by the lack of light coming in from the window near the front door of the house. 

“A day, I feared your wounds and the cold was too much for you. I tried my best, but my powers are not usually used for helping people.” Seeing him in this light was very strange, even though he still towered over you, he seemed to be trying to make himself appear smaller, probably trying not to scare you, after all you think that you have had enough excitement for a lifetime.

You glance down at your wrists, then gently brush your fingers over the bandages. "Oh... um, thank you for helping me," you say quietly. "Does this mean... my village won't be saved after all? I didn’t think it was possible to fail at being an offering."

He lets out a cruel laugh at your question, his accent even thicker now. “Your village..” he spits out venom in his voice…”They are lucky that I just leave them to fend for themselves during this winter and that I don’t take revenge for what they have done to you by slaughtering them all. I have done more for much less.” 

Nervously, you absentmindedly bring your hand up to the jewelry that still lays around your neck, twirling the small bell pendant between your fingers, Konig’s eyes tracing your movements. “But..but why they said we had angered you last Christmas and this was the only way to put an end to the suffering you have plagued us with, the…book it said-” He cuts you off by walking towards you, his hand wraps gently around yours holding the necklace, careful of your wounds caressing your hand.

“I was not angry then but I am now, anyways that is not how I work. I do not know what lies they have told you, but I have no control over the crops, animals, or weather, that is not my doing.”

As he goes to pull his hand away you grab his wrist pleading with him, “no, that is not right. The only reason they left me out there like that was because the book said an offering to you would save the village. Why else would they do that to me?” you whisper the last part mostly to yourself, not seeing any other reason for the actions of the people in your village.

 You see his eyes soften from behind the mask, stepping closer his presence only a breath away from you now, cupping your checks and wiping away tears that you did not realize had fallen. “The book you speak of is an ancient book of an offering; this is to be given to me yes, but not for sacrifice or as a way to save a village from misfortune. It speaks of tying someone to me. Bonding their soul to mine forever. I do not know why but I assume they wanted someone to blame for their misfortunes, and I was it. By leaving you to me, writing the runes upon your skin…” his hands now trace your checks down your neck, and your arms where the writing was previously written, “ and wearing my necklace, and since I accepted the offering when I brought you back here with me, we are now linked together forever.” 

You stare into his eyes, looking to see if he is telling the truth, finding no lies within his eyes you take a deep breath, your head beginning to hurt with all this new information thrown at you. “I think I need to sit down for a moment,” you say in a breathless whisper.

 Konig guides you to the cozy-looking chair sitting in front of the fireplace, placing your head in your hands you lean forward, your elbows on your knees, closing your eyes trying to make sense of everything. Instead of being killed by Krampus like you originally thought you being a sacrifice for the good of the village and everyone in it, they tied your soul to his, making you his soulmate. No matter how long you thought about it you just couldn't make sense of it, how would this solve anything? Why would giving the being they thought responsible for all their troubles a soulmate solve anything. 

Lifting your head up from your hands you look up at Konig, who is walking back over to where you sit now holding a glass of water, he must have gone to the kitchen while you were deep in thought. He wordlessly hands you the glass of water, you take a long sip of water not realizing how thirsty you were until that moment. Gasping you say, “Thank you. But I still don’t understand how would this solve anything for the village then? Why would they essentially be rewarding you, if they thought you were the bad guy?” 

Taking the now-empty glass from your hands, he lets out a deep sigh. “Once your soul is bound to mine, I have a weakness. Through me, you will have an immortal life, not aging another day as I, but you are still human able to be killed, if you die, I die with you.” 

At the sudden news, you jump up out of your seat, craining your head to look up at him but before you could say anything, he adds “do not worry they cannot find you here. No harm will ever come to you, especially not while you wear my necklace. Plus, even if they somehow managed to find their way to my forest they would have to make it through the elves first, and they do not play nicely.” His eyes shine with a knowing look like he knows exactly what would become of anyone who makes there way here without his permission. 

Before you could say anything else your stomach starts growling, causing your face to feel warm with embarrassment. Konig lets out a chuckle, “Ah, how rude of me. You must be very hungry, ja. Let us get you some food. Come.” 

He reaches his hand out in front of you. You slowly place your hand in his, he gently pulls you to your feet and starts leading you down the corridor to the kitchen. Now that his hand is in yours, you can feel the rough callouses on his skin from years of use. Upon entering the kitchen, you did not expect to see the table already full of delicious-looking food, gasping you look at Konig in question, who simply shrugs his shoulder in response pulling out a chair at the table for you to sit at. 

“Do not be shy; have as much as you like.” He says as he sits on the seat on your right, making a plate for himself and piling it high with meat. You begin making your plate, putting a little bit of everything on it, wanting to try everything as most of the food before you is something you have never seen before. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Konig reach up and grab the mask obscuring his face and taking it off and place it in the spot next to him on the table. Your eyes rake over the scars on his face, he must have felt your gaze on him because he turns his head to stare at you. 

Giving you a sheepish smile, he apologizes, “I am sorry. I know I am not very nice to look at, but it is difficult to eat with the mask on.” 

Shaking your head, “No, you have nothing to apologize for. You just didn’t look how I expected Krampus to look; you are handsome.” 

Not knowing how to respond to your kindness, Konig just gives you a grateful smile before continuing to eat, you shortly following his lead. 

—-

You've been living with Konig for a few weeks now, and in that time, you've learned a lot about him. He makes toys—though they're unlike anything Santa would create—and the strange creations often come to life, causing chaos wherever they go. He's also started wearing his mask less frequently around the house, especially when it's just the two of you. Still, every now and then, a quiet worry creeps into your mind about the people in your village. You can't help but wonder if they managed to survive the blizzard and the food shortages.

Today, Konig was teaching you how to create snowglobes at his workstation. It turned out to be much more difficult than you’d expected, especially when it came to crafting the perfect sculpture to fit inside. Though you weren’t the best at it, Konig seemed to enjoy teaching you, and that made it all worthwhile.

“Look, Schatz,” he said with a proud smile. “It’s us.”

You stopped what you were doing and turned to see the small sculpture in his hands—a perfect replica of you and him, standing side by side. You gasped in awe. “Wow, that’s beautiful!”

Konig handed you the sculpture, and as you ran your fingers over the intricate details of the hand-carved masterpiece, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth.

“I still have to add color, so I am not done yet.” He sheepishly adds, rubbing the back of his neck at all your praise.

Sudden bangs and the chaos of shouting erupted outside the house, the sounds of a violent struggle growing louder. Konig stands up, grabs your arm, and pulls you up beside him. He begins dragging you to his bedroom. Once inside, he gently places you in the middle of the room and grabs his mask off the nightstand where it usually stays now. 

“Stay here, Liebling, do not come out until I come back for you.” Even with his face now covered, you can see the concern for your safety reflecting in his eyes. 

Konig turns to leave the room, but before he can make it out of the door, leaving you behind, you run up behind him and grab ahold of his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, “Konig, what’s happening? Don’t leave me alone.” 

Pausinghe turns to face you, fully reaching up with both hands on your cheeks. He caresses your face, softly rubbing his thumbs over the apple of your cheeks, “Everything is going to be okay. Just stay here, please.” 

Staring into his eyes, wanting to beg him to stay with you and just let his elves handle whatever is happening outside, you know that he does need to go out there; he is Krampus, after all, and is more than capable of taking care of himself. You nod, your face still in his grasp. He leans forward but pauses as if he is second-guessing himself. Letting out a deep sigh from his chest, he put the mouth of the mask on your forehead before walking towards the door, giving you one last glance over, ensuring your safety before he leaves, and shutting the door to his room behind him. You can hear his heavy footsteps throughout the house, the front door open and closed shut, leaving you all alone in the house. 

The noise outside has yet to stop; maybe it was just your nerves, but you feel as if, every passing second, he is out there. Something bad could be happening, but you know he is a demon and only truly has one weakness. Which is why he told you to stay in his room, where he knows you will be safe. Trying to clear your mind from the turmoil outside, you begin pacing around his room, counting the number of steps it takes to walk from one corner to the next. You continue to do this for the next couple of minutes while all the noise outside seems to have died down, allowing you to hear some muffled yelling. Right now, you can only make out Konig’s voice, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go out into the living room so that way you can hear more of what is happening. 

Quietly, you open the bedroom door, the hinges squeaking, causing you to flinch. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you walk out into the living room towards the front door, placing your ear upon the cool wood. Konig is yelling at someone; his accent becomes thicker the angrier he gets, which sometimes makes him harder to understand. After a brief moment of punching sounds, you hear someone who sounds vaguely familiar, “You killed her, didn’t you, you monster!!” 

You gasp, covering your mouth. You throw open the door, rushing outside in the cold, not thinking about grabbing the fur jacket Konig made specially for you. You run down the stairs on the porch. You see Konig standing tall and menacingly in the yard. His elves are all lined up facing him. They are all holding weapons of some kind, looking as rowdy as ever, the bells on the chains wrapped around their body jingling in the wind. You run as fast as you can to where Konig stands, where two elves are standing out from the crowd holding two prisoners hostages, making them kneel before Konig. 

Sensing you, Konig whips around his body language, immediately softening at the sight of you, “Liebling, it is too cold for you to be out here.” By the time you reach him, he has already removed his thick red cloak throwing it over your shoulders and wrapping it around your body. 

You place your hands on his chest, bunching up his shirt in your grip, “No, Konig! Please don’t hurt them. They are from my village.” Motioning to where the two elves are holding a beaten and bloody Simon and Johnny. 

Johnny and Simon are drenched in blood, from head to toe, and you can only hope it’s not all theirs. Their arms are covered in cuts, and their faces are swollen and bruised from what looks like repeated punches. Chains are wrapped tightly around their upper bodies, and the elves standing behind them keep a firm hold, forcing them to kneel in the snow.

At the sight of you in Konig’s arms, Johnny and Simon struggle in the chains, causing the elves to tighten the chains, making them let out pained groans. 

Johnny speaks first, “You’re alive!! We went back to the forest that night to save you. Simon and I decided that we couldn’t just leave you out there to die, but when we arrived back at the sight, you were gone, nothing left but the rope.” Guilt fills his voice, looking at you for forgiveness. 

Simon moves to stand up, but the elf kicks his leg, causing him to fall back on his knees; looking over his shoulder, he glares at the elf, cursing under his breath. He tries again, jerking his shoulders forward to create some slack in the chain. Once standing, he takes a half step towards you; seeing this, Konig steps in front of you more, making you peek around his back to see what Simon has to say. 

��When we got back to the village and told everyone about how we were unsuccessful in rescuing you, everyone started rioting, blaming Shepherd and Philip, saying there should have been another way. They…they told Johnny and I that the book said there was a way to save you. We just had to find Krampus’s hideout and kill him.” Simon glances at Konig, seeing his protective stance around you, and begins rethinking everything he was told by the village leaders.

A loud clapping coming from behind all the elves draws everyone’s attention; Shepherd appears from the darkness, clapping his hands together slowly. Konig moves forward, growling, “What are you doing here?” 

Shepherd lets out a loud mocking laugh, “I told you before, Konig. I would get my revenge for what you did to my family. I have been planning my revenge for years. Did you not think I wouldn’t notice you watching them every year and becoming attached to them, so when I was finally able to get my hands on that necklace, I knew this was my chance.” 

Konig rolls his shoulders back, standing up to his full height, with hatred in his eyes. He watches Shepherd slowly walk closer to him through the elves who were anxiously waiting for the word to attack. “They were on my list. It is the rules, bad children, and adults who need to be punished. But they have nothing to do with this. Your quarrel is with me.” 

You move to step forward to take comfort behind Konig when you feel someone wrap their arms around you from behind, placing a knife at your throat. You fearfully shout, “Konig!” 

Hearing your cry for help, he turns around but pauses when he sees you in danger, his breath catching in his throat. “Let her go!” he growls. You have never heard him like this before; it sends a shiver down your spine. The elves are holding up their weapons behind Konig, ready to kill for you. 

A laugh rumbles from the chest of the person holding you, one that you used to enjoy hearing the sound of, but now it just sends a sick feeling to your stomach. Philip rests his chin on the top of your head, digging the blade into your neck, causing it to break the skin, a little trial of blood running down your neck. This causes Konig’s entire body to go rigid at the sight of it. He clenches his fists at his side, and you can see the gears turning in his head on how to rescue from his grip without hurting you. 

“You didn’t really expect us not to retaliate against you. I think us giving you a little soulmate was mighty nice of Shepherd and me. I mean, we even gave you some time together before sending in those two as a diversion…” 

He points the knife over at Johny and Simon before placing the knife back at your throat,  “So you wouldn’t suspect us, and we could just waltz on in here and grab your soulmate, killing them essentially killing you. But I really did not expect it to go so easily.” Philip laughs, tightening his arms around you. You silently plead with Konig to do anything. 

Shepherd, having made his way through the horde of elves, pats Konig on the back condescendingly, “Now you will know what it is like to lose everything, but you’ll be joining them shortly.” 

The chains around Johnny and Simon had slackened considerably due to the elves' concern for you and Konig’s safety. Simon used the slack of the chain to throw it around Shepherd's neck, pulling back into his hold. Shepherd’s hands immediately go to the chain around his throat, trying to keep it from choking him, but to no avail; Simon is not letting go, no matter how much he struggles. 

Philip removes the knife from your throat to point it threateningly at Simon, “HEY! You let him go now!” 

With the knife no longer about to end your life and Philip distracted, Konig sees the perfect opportunity to strike. Konig rushes forward, grabbing Philip’s hand that holds the knife, bending his wrist back with a sickening crack, causing him to scream out in pain, dropping the knife in the snow. Konig’s other hand wraps around Philip’s throat. He lets go of you in favor of trying to pry off Konig’s hands off his throat. You fall to the snow and crawl out of the way. One of the elves comes up behind you, pulling you in their embrace to keep you safe. Your head is pressed into their chest to keep you from seeing anything that is happening behind you. 

Konig now has both hands wrapped around Philip’s throat, lifting him into the air, his feet no longer touching the ground. Philip is clawing at his hands, gasping out for breath, his face turning colors due to the lack of oxygen. Konig leans forward, whispering in his ear, “Do not touch what is mine.” A loud crack resonates throughout the forest; Philip's hands fall to his limp, throwing his body down. Konig sprints to where you are cowering in the elf's grasp. 

“Liebling, are you okay? What hurts?” He places his hand on your back, trying to access any more damage on you. Feeling Konig’s comforting touch on your back, you throw yourself into his awaiting arms, tears flowing soaking into his shirt. 

“I was so scared; I thought they were going to hurt us.” you sob into his chest; he rubs your back soothingly as you try to catch your breath. 

The familiar sound of the bells jingling causes you and Konig to look over to where Shepherd now lays wrapped in the chains at the feet of Simon and Johnny, who hold both ends of the chains. “Should we kill him?” Johnny asks, looking at Konig. 

Konig stands up with you standing in front of him, wrapped safely in his arms, turning to face them both. “Nein, I have a better idea. Elfen bringen ihn in die Grube.” 

With their orders now given, a handful of elves move forward, snarling and laughing, grabbing the chains from Johnny and Simon and begin dragging Shepherd’s screaming body through the snow towards the pits. 

Konig walks to Simon and Johnny, stopping in front of them with you still with him. Simon looks at you, then Konig, “What are you going to do to us?” asks Simon, sighing regrettably. 

Reaching up and removing the mask covering his face, Konig puts one hand on both of the men's shoulder’s, “You both helped me. Distracting Philip, so I was able to act. Thank you. You are free to return to your village, become the new leaders, and do a better job than those two. Though I must warn you once you leave my forest, you are never to return, or else my elves will not be as kind to you next time.” 

They both nod their heads at Konig in agreement and turn to leave. The rest of the elves make a path for them to walk through, none of the elves messing with either man as per Konig’s wishes. However, it did not stop the elves from keeping a close eye on them until they were completely off their territory. 

Konig kneels down in front of you, placing his head against your stomach, “I was so scared when I saw you in danger. I thought I was about to lose you forever, and I panicked. I am so sorry.” he says, his voice muffled from being pressed against you. Running your hands through his hair, you move his head up to look at you. 

“Konig, you have nothing to be sorry for. I should have listened to you and stayed inside; it was all my fault. I am sorry, but thank you for saving me.” You pull him up and give him a hug. 

Leaning your head back, you look up at his face, staring into each other eyes. He slowly leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath fanning your face, standing on your tippy toes, you press your lips to his, feeling your lips on his. He immediately kisses back, placing one hand on the back of your head and pulling you closer to him. 

Cheering and laughter erupt in the background, causing you to pull away from each other. Seeing all the elves going crazy at the sight of you and Konig kissing causes you to throw your head back, laughing before you bury your face in his chest, making him laugh in return. 

“Come on, Liebling. Let’s go back inside.” 

—-

The next day, you and Konig are sitting cuddled up together in the living room in front of the fire, enjoying each other’s company. Konig stops rubbing your back and turns his body to face yours fully, his face full of nervousness. 

“If you want, you can go back to your village. I will understand if you wish to leave, and I will hold no grudges against you or the town. I….” you stop him from talking any further. 

“And if I want to stay here with you?” you ask, looking down shyly, scared that maybe he was saying all that stuff because he did not want you here anymore. 

He places his finger under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him, “then I will spend every day of our life together doing whatever I can to make you happy. Trying to prove to you how much you mean to me.” He leans forward, connecting your lips together in a kiss.

The warm glow of the fireplaces bathed you both in a soft, calming light, casting a peaceful aura over the room. Above the mantel, the snowglobe, Konig crafted, an intricate, perfect representation of the two of you, sat proudly. Its glass shimmered gently in the flickering flames, showing the love and care he put into creating it.

-------

masterlist

[eyelambspider]

𝟎𝟐. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚 || 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Day Two of Kink/Creeptober! Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : könig x gn!reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : The two of you were sent in the dead of night to check up on a supposedly vacated enemy facility. Strange reports and sightings of men had worried KorTac, they couldn't afford to have someone occupy the space. Turns out, the scary Colonel hates 'supernatural' stuff. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.4 k 𝐚/𝐧 : shane & ryan duo ifykyk 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff? funny/comedy?, horror, mentions of guns, swearing, reader is sarcastic, cryptid (mothman appearance :)

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.

You groaned softly. An exaggerated sound that made the Colonel hit your shoulder with the butt of his gun.

"Keep quiet, there may be enemies," he scolded you quietly, having to glance down at you with those disapproving eyes of his. The two of you had just barely touched the door and you were already complaining.

"This fucking sucks and you know it," you whispered back harshly. The two of you chose a respective side of the metal door to stand against. Lowering your guns only for a moment to finally lower the night vision goggles onto your faces.

König only grumbled again, muttering curses and German under his breath like he liked to do when you pissed him off. A sound that made you huff in response to him.

He acted like you were the irrational one. But the fact was: Every thermal scan of the facility reported nothing. And the old building was monitored day and night since local reports came in of 'shadows in the window'. No one on watch duty reported seeing anyone or anything come in or out of the doors. Any of them.

This was bullshit. It just sounded like a squatter to you, but the Austrian Colonel—who you had been paired with to double check the situation personally—was all protocol.

"Don't," he warned, turning his head towards you and pointing a gloved finger His night vision goggles already peering back at you through the darkness. You didn't even need to say it for him to know what you were thinking.

So you didn't, waving your hands up in sarcastic surrendering gesture, strapping your own goggles to your head with a huff. Waiting for him to take the lead then.

So he did, opening the metal door quietly. An actual wonder for how rusted the hinges were. You had to give it to him at least- König was a good fucking soldier. Just... this whole mission felt like a damned excessive ghost chase. Yes, there could be enemy presence back in the facility... but there was a better chance of seeing a rat scurrying around.

König led the way through the darkness, your eyes on the green light casted from his back. The night vision working perfectly. Watching his back and peering around for any sign of life.

The facility was some sort of old textile factory, or you supposed, was one back in the industrial era.

The roof was beginning to cave in, water dripping over concrete and metal railings, rusting everything in its path. Long ivy's crawling up the walls. Only remnants of dust and the occasional scrap of fabric had been left since KorTac had cleared it out over a year ago. It was a wonder you didn't see some sort of zombie wandering around making little clicking noises.

An amused sound slipped from your lips and König stopped dead in his tracks in front of you. Standing up straight, merely glancing over his shoulder in warning. The green glint of his goggles giving you a look that said 'Keep quiet.'

Yeah, yeah. You waved his concern off. There was a job to do despite protests.

The two of you continued on quietly, stalking through the darkness, sweeping the first floor with little to no problems. Guns held close, strapped to your vests and held tightly. The green ghoulish glow of your visor reflecting everything back to you in an eerie way. But nothing seemed out of place. No activity, not even a sound besides the crystal clear clink of water dripping from somewhere overhead.

König reached a hand up to his right ear, speaking quietly into his ear piece. "First floor clear." His voice, echoed softly into your own comm link.

"Continue to secure the building," a tired voice spoke back from the base. Operators watching the small sweep from the cameras on the left side of both of your helmets. Seeing what you both saw, hearing nothing except the staticky feedback through their screens.

Protocol.

With the first floor cleared, the second one seemed like it would go without a hitch too. There was no sound except the soft huffs of your breathing and the rustling of military uniforms as you both continued down the decrepit hallways. Up the rickety metal stairs, the two of you cringing as it groaned and tapped under the weight. Boots on metal, guns clutched a bit closer now that the two of you were making noise. Just a little bit more alert than a few seconds prior.

It was like the air had suddenly changed. No shift that the operators back at base could see, but König could feel it on his skin. Goosebumps prickling up his pale neck as he finally reached the crest of the staircase.

When he stopped, you waited patiently for the Colonel to move. Through the visor, all you could see was him standing there, clutching his gun and looking acute around as if something was wrong. Nothing you could tell though, no matter how much you tried to follow his eyes.

Left to right, there was only the pitch black hallways filled with faded paperwork and offices. It was so quiet in fact, you could probably hear a pin drop from down the hall.

"Colonel," you whispered almost imperceptibly, waiting for his move.

He seemed to tense as soon as the sound left your mouth, but he stayed firm. Only able to see his back and the hand he lifted up, finally signaling you to keep following him with a curt wave.

You got out of the stairwell, the pair of you moving more cautiously. The air swarming with uncertainty as König stopped at the corner, peaking around just to tense up at what he saw. The sound of his gun clinking in his hands as he squeezed it.

It made you tense too, readying your gun and holding the sight close to your eye.

König didn't say anything, just stood frozen with his back against the wall. His chest rising and falling a bit more obviously than it had been a moment ago.

"Colonel! What is it?" you whispered, almost frustrated. Never in all your years of working with him, had he ever frozen.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you whispered again, a bit more loudly before he grabbed your bicep to stop you. Squeezing so hard it made you grit your teeth.

If he wasn't going to move, then you were.

You shuffled quickly around him, your side brushing his front as he stood there. And despite him still trying to stop you, you peaked around the corner, gun at the ready.

"What the-?"

There were little flecks of fine... dust? floating around the end of the hallway. Glittering and reflecting back into your visor, green and a bit... odd.

You stepped out from around the corner and began walking curiously towards it. Only a step out before König tried to stop you again. "Halt um Gottes Willen!" he whispered, trying to grasp at you before he stopped, as if the corner had an invisible barrier he would not cross.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You whispered back, turning to glance over your shoulder at him.

When he had nothing to say, you sighed and continued on without him.

He tried to call out your name to stop you, watching as your form began to go deeper and deeper towards the swirling flecks.

You lowered your gun curiously as the little cloud of dust enveloped you, swirling around from the disturbance. There, on the wall was a dark smear, as if someone had wiped the finest ash over it. You reached a gloved hand out, only to stop when König scolded you again from down the hall.

"Bist du verdammt dumm? Don't you dare touch that!" he ordered, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him.

"Come over here and stop me," you called back, finding yourself smirking at that. "We have a fucking mission," you reminded him. The two of you quietly shouting in the hall now. "Its protocol to sweep the area. Now get your ass over here!" you waved, trying to coax him out.

He couldn't argue and you both knew it. The building had to be checked, and despite his gut telling him otherwise, he rounded the corner and made his way towards you slowly. So tense he seemed to be moving mechanically.

You took your glove off finally and tucked it into your vest, running your fingers through the inky smear. You gasped quietly, rubbing the fine dust between your fingers. It was the softest thing you'd ever felt. And the strange material flaked off your skin, becoming a part of the little cloud that surrounded you.

What the hell was it? Just dust?

König finally came up next to you, watching over your shoulder with the same bad feeling in his stomach.

That's when the soft sound of scuttling startled the both of you.

Your gun shot up and König nearly jumped out of his skin. The two of your looking up in comical sync just in time to watch a shadowy figure crawl along the ceiling and disappear down the corridor in an instant.

"Was zum Teufel!" König yelped, a cold shudder running through his body like lightning.

You kept your aim forward, gun trained now towards the ceiling. The sight only enticing you to take a step further and investigate whatever the fuck that was.

"Stop! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" König was now visibly shaking, not even clutching his rifle anymore, instead reaching out to stop you. There was no doubt he could just throw you over his shoulder and get the two of you out in less than a minute.

"I'm going to clear the area," you said in confidence, like it was the most obvious answer you'd ever given.

The more you moved towards the darkness, the more König tried to stop you, his hands clamping down on your shoulder to swing you around the other way.

"Stop! I said stop! Halt! You damned lunatic!"

"Colonel!" You hissed, stepping towards him before he even had a chance to grab you. "This is a fucking mission, pull yourself together," you reminded him. Yet, he still looked like a damned deer in the headlights, trembling, and too afraid to move in the darkness. Glancing at you with a nervous uncertainty.

Then, he watched as a smirk slowly began to spread over your lips. The green-glow of the night vision making you look more like the imp he envisioned you to be in the moment.

"Colonel? Are you... scared?"

He didn't like your tone, and his grip tightened into a white knuckle grip on his rifle.

He was fucking terrified.

"Come on," you huffed, relaxing as you led the way down the hall, following after the shadowy form. And fuck if König was going to be left alone with that thing roaming around the building.

With you leading the way, the two of you stalked through the next hall. König's breathing was coming out in short puffs, and although it felt like his legs struggled to bend, he followed anxiously. The small flecks in the air getting denser, more frequent the further you went into the building.

The roof was still leaking, but the tip of your gun traced a particular drop. More viscous and stringy than water, dripping down from the ceiling in a long gossamer strand, forming a bubbly puddle on the floor. It-It looked like spit.

Another deep fluttering sound emanated deep from the last room in the hallway. Something clattering to the ground with a resounding boom. Your gun instinctively pointed towards the noise.

"Gott im Himmel erbarme dich..."

The muttered sounds of German had you quickly glancing over your shoulder. König was dead frozen, his gun rattling in his hands, unable to move further, only shaking his head back and forth as if he couldn't believe it.

"Are you... Are you praying?!" You asked quietly, mind torn between disbelief that the man who dominated in warfare was fucking cowering behind you and the animal that was in the room.

You turned to König, putting a hand on his shoulder, your eyes still pointed cautiously towards the door.

"König, you're almost seven foot tall and have the biggest gun I've ever seen in your hands," you began quietly, trying to smack some soft words to reassurance into his head. "You'll be fine."

Even though he nodded, his legs still had that tremor in them.

This was reality, you told yourself, nothing but a fucking raccoon or stupid flock of pigeons fumbling around in the dark. The boogeyman didn't exist.

You lifted a hand to your ear, pressing the piece to speak quietly, relaying back to base. "Going in, hold."

"Copy Bravo."

König couldn't even protest, the words, nothing but German-English gibberish tumbling out of his mouth. Watching in sheer horror as you continued on, his feet moving on their own accord to stand behind you. To afraid to be left behind, too afraid to leave you behind.

Once you made it to the withering doorframe, König held his breath, feeling like icy had shot through his veins as you rounded the corner sharply.

In an instant of horror, your eyes landed on it, shuffling in the corner of the dark office. Fuzzy like a blot of ink, writing against the breeze that hushed through the broken window and picked up the tattered curtains.

Soft kissy sounds came from it, and the thing wrung its neck to glance at you. Green orbs, as big as your head peered back through the night vision goggles locked onto your eyes. Its massive wings, like sails, fluttered like a military drone. Goosebumps lurched down both of your bodies as it dropped from the ceiling and stood up so tall that it hunched to fit the room.

Before you could see anymore, you turned on your heel and ran, grabbing König's arm to get his ass moving. "FUCK THAT!"

Only screams filled the quiet room back at base, the operators watching in collective confusion as the pair of you ran for your lives in a blur of sheer hysteria.

[last-starry-sky]

this hungry thing inside me - pt. 1

price x reader - gaz x reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 4.7k, established relationship (price and reader are married), domestication/traditional gender roles, price is a good man but occasionally a terrible husband, relationship problems, arguments, mentions of manipulation, alcohol and smoking mentions, infidelity, dry-humping, kissing, biting, dirty talk, begging, fingering, oral, edging, reader is assuming the worst of her husband through-out most of this part with minimal self-reflection so have fun with that!]

Title is from THIS poem - also, happy 600 followers to me! 🥳

It’s a tragedy in three acts.

You love your husband and you know he loves you. That was given, unquestionable, the foundation you built upon. You wouldn’t have married him if that wasn’t true. That was the form of the first tragedy. Somewhere along the way, in the long years growing more and more familiar with each other, of planning your futures, of just living life, you grew complacent. Bored.

The walls of the nice little house his promotion had bought for the two of you was meant to be your freedom. That’s how he had framed it.

“Know you didn’t have to work anymore if you don’t want, love. Can do whatever you please now,” your husband had said soothingly that first night as he held you in his arms once the passion between you had cooled to a simmer. “Take care of me ‘n the house,” he paused before continuing, “kids, too,” he said with a small laugh, “when we finally get around to makin’ ‘em.” There was a long pause between you. You watched as the gauzy curtains blew lazily in and out. You house breathing in the cool summer night air. “Won’t have to worry over you when I’m away. I’ll know you’ll be here, safe,” he mumbled, a bristly smooch tickled your ear, making you smile. “I’ll be home more now, too.”

“Promise?” you whispered into the dim, blue light of your bedroom. The fumes of new paint wafted up from downstairs. The smell of new beginnings, of hope. He squeezed your hand.

He promised.

You took his offer but, just like any offer that seemed too good to be true, there were catches. You had kept up your end. You quit your job, taking up typical housewife activities: cooking homemade meals, scrubbing baseboards, going for early morning walks followed by falling asleep on the couch to some trash afternoon TV drama. All the usual things. It was John that couldn’t keep his end. While you tore through novels trying to keep from texting him for the fifth time when he would be home, he was just gone.

His new position kept him busy with confidential work most of the time, which also kept him on base. Strangely, you could have dealt with that. You could have grown used to feeling him slip in bed late at night and leave before breakfast the next morning. His job was important to him. He was respected. Most importantly, it afforded you a life most would cut their arm off to have. So, you tried to be patient. Grateful, you told yourself. You should be grateful for the snippets of time you were able to share. Even though he was dog-tired most of the time, spending long hours relaxing on the couch or sprawled across your bed.

You let yourself become a new thing entirely: soft and plain and domesticated. John, though, John remained the same. He still returned home with rough hands and skin tanned from days under an aggressive, blinding sun. Black grease and gun powder wore into the cracks around his eyes, and, most worrying to you, scars collected across his body. He told you when you met that men in his line of work had to be half-crazy to make it; adrenaline junkies, nomads, and it hurt you that he still lived like that. He was your husband, but he was a warrior too. A man without a home; without a reason to live.

You stopped doing things together almost entirely. You cooked dinners for one and ate them alone. You went to the shops alone. You worked out and wandered the city alone. As John put so eloquently in one of your arguments: “You’ve all the time in the world to do that shite when I’m not here. Why are you nagging me on my days off?”

An image came to mind when he said that. The image of the ball-and-chain, of the frazzled, ungrateful housewife, seared into your mind with his words. It rattled you so much that the argument stopped right there, dropping it as you walked away into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room. You didn’t want to be that to him. Couldn’t stand even thinking of it. If that’s how he felt, you told yourself, then . . . then you would stop nagging him. It was a bitter pill, but you swallowed it because you loved him. You cared about what he thought of you. The last thing you wanted was to drive him away now with your petty little problems. You loved your husband, you told yourself as you lay awake in the dark, so you pulled away. You threw away your “honey do” list. You deleted websites saved with holiday plans. You did your part. You stopped bothering him.

John relegated himself to the guest bedroom that night while you waited upstairs, wiping away the bitter, intermittent, tears that streaked down your face. You waited for the sound of his footsteps as they creaked up the stairs, for the door hinge to whine, announcing his entry. If he was good at anything these days, he was good at apologizing.Not with words, naturally, but physically. What John lacked in social skills he made up for with stamina and determination. It was hard to continue a fight with his face between your legs and you couldn’t stay angry for long at a man who could chain together orgasms like he was pulling taffy. Fucked out and sated, you would wake the next morning all the more forgiving and happy.

There was a creak downstairs. Footsteps. The TV turning off. Your heart began to race the second you heard it. You lay still in bed, facing the window as you continued to listen. More footsteps, but they were toward the front of the house. The opposite of where he should be heading. Shuffling. Soft thumping. The shuffling of a coat. The jingle of keys. You held your breath in the quiet dark, unwilling to face the truth of what your senses clearly told you was happening.

The door opened then closed softly. The deadbolt slid into place. Then, silence. Dreaded, nerve-fraying, silence. A few minutes later, long after you knew he had left, your phone vibrated at your side. A message from John. The first one you’d received unprompted in a long time.

“Lads invited me out for a drink. Be back later.”

-

Action and reaction. That’s the form of the second tragedy.

What’s the saying? “Don’t get mad, get even.” Whatever it was, you thought as you artfully lined your eyes, that was your new mantra. You stared into the vanity mirror and saw a new woman staring back at you. Not the old you, not the happy, professional woman always smiling next to her buff, military husband. No, you were a different animal entirely now. Newborn from the cocoon of the drab, boring housewife he’d transformed you into. You were reformed from months of dishpan hands and laying about on the couch. You would no longer allow yourself to crumble away, mentally and physically. You blotted your lipstick and gave yourself one last look in the mirror before you stood up.

If John couldn’t see how hot his own wife was, then you weren’t going to waste your time chasing after his attention anymore.

You wouldn’t lie. You felt guilty as hell the first few times you went out alone. Guilty that you’d left the little bubble of safety he’d constructed for you. The one he’d abandoned you in and visited rarely. Guilty that you left your wedding band and engagement rings in your jewelry box. Guilty that you were having fun on your own, letting the alcohol melt away the awkwardness of standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers in a strange bar. The music was good though, and so was the beer. You remember snippets of conversations, carrying on with the bartender, whomever was seated next to you, the girls fixing their makeup in the bathroom. You felt young again. Carefree and untethered. You remember leaving, walking home along the dark streets. The thick, syrupy, ball of happiness you’d built all night suddenly plunged into cold water, forming a hard, cracked surface as you steeled yourself at the front door.

John could be in there, you thought. He could be angry. Worried. Disappointed.

You pushed the door open. The empty hook where his coat usually hung and the space where his shoes sat in the hall the first two places your eyes nervously landed on. Empty, you saw. Still gone. Still alone. You checked your phone for the hundredth time that night just to be sure you hadn’t missed a call or text. Nothing. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. You had gotten away with it.

Was that a stupid way to look at it? Absolutely. The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous you felt. You were a grown woman. You could go out without your goddamn absentee husband’s permission. So, you did. You tried to make yourself irregular, harder to track. Random times, days of the week, always a different bar in a different part of the city. Sometimes you even hopped on the train to see what the adjoining towns had to offer. You always came back at the end of the night though, giddy with alcohol and buzzing with excitement, but home. A drip of guilt rolled down your spine. Yours and John’s home.

Still, before you left you would stand in the hall, hand still on the doorknob, keys in your other hand. This was the first hurdle, something within you told you. A part of you that knew better, probably, expected more. A part of you that looked and acted a hell of a lot like your husband. It asked you: If you had known where this road would lead you, this journey of revenge and self-discovery, would you have still done it?

You finally answered that question when you let your first hookup take you back to his place. In between sloppy kisses laced with the alcohol you’d let him buy you and the nicotine he’d shotgunned down your throat in the alley outside, you’d managed to string two brain cells together to tell him enough. He’d agreed quickly. Being under the same influences as you plus the aching erection he pressed against your jeaned thigh, it was a no-brainer.

You followed him back to his apartment, a nice little flat only a few blocks away, wrapped around him the whole way. It wasn’t until then that you realized how much touch you craved. John had been distant since his promotion. Sex had become less spontaneous, less fun. His lingering touches disappeared and the almost daily lovemaking had slowed from a stream, to a drizzle, to drops, before shutting off entirely. Now that you had another man, and a stranger at that, returning your nuzzles against his chest with loving strokes of strong, rough fingers through your hair, you could have sang. Could have cried.

He asked you what you wanted once he got you inside. Deliriously fuzzy and half-drunk, you were confident. You asked him to undress you and he followed your instruction without question. You closed your eyes and drank in the feel of his calloused palms against your skin: the way he reverently kissed your neck when he tossed your blouse to the floor, how he squeezed your ass in both hands after peeling your pants down your thighs.

“Bet your pussy tastes as good as you look, luv,” he breathed in your ear as he ground his trapped cock against the soaked silk of your panties. You whined, pulling him out of your neck by his short curly hair to stick your tongue down his throat. You couldn’t remember the last time John had talked to you like that and fuck me if you couldn’t get used to it.

“’s that what you want?” you slurred, hands roaming boldly up under his shirt. He had a gorgeous body from what you could feel; all planes of hard muscle from his groin up to some nicely defined pectorals. His biceps bulged under the grip of your wandering hands, making you flush as he groaned. His fingers wound in the fabric hugging your hips, threatening to use just an ounce of that strength to rip them away, to be done with it already.

“I want . . .” he said, lingering to a pause as he pulled away. His brown eyes half closed as he ran his hands appreciatively up your curves. Even in the weak city light, mostly blocked out by haphazardly-drawn blinds, you could see the warm brown of his skin. His hands stopped under your bra. Whatever thought preoccupied his mind until then had run through, prompting him to lean back in and place a kiss on your clavicle.

“Want whatever you want,” he said as he pulled away, trailing a line of kisses back up your neck. You were putty in his hands, uselessly moaning, pinned between him and the wall as you let him touch you as he pleased. “I’s just . . .” he trailed off again, hand swiping up your clothed pussy, making you squeak. “You’re actin’ like you haven’t been touched in years, luv,” he breathed against your ear with a biting kiss. God did you wish he wasn’t so bloody close to the truth.

You thought you saw sparks behind your eyes as he hitched your leg up around his hip. He effortlessly supported you, letting you wind your arms around his neck.

“Can’t have that,” he said soft yet authoritative, pressing a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. The tickle of his mustache faintly reminded you of John. You whined, rocking forward, searching blindly for pressure; for any relief for the need throbbing hot and wet between your thighs. He kissed your cheek, then your nose.

“Now now,” he soothed gently, a hand cupping your flushed cheek. “Stay with me. Tell me what you want,” capping his sentence with a kiss that sucked your top lip between his teeth. You groaned at the difference between the sharp pain of his teeth as they nipped again and again at your lip and his bubblegum-soft words filling your head. The way he held you so sure and strong but wouldn’t take anything from you. Not until he was told.

You didn’t think they made guys like him anymore. Your half-drunk brain swirled as he paused, the two of you breathing the same air. How the hell had you gotten so lucky?

“Kyle,” you breathed, light and airy. Your arms flexed around his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m so close,” you whined pitifully, eyebrows pressing together. “However you want to do it, just please,” you trailed off with another whine. His hands pressed divots into the soft flesh of your hips, a small betrayal of his slipping control. You sucked in a shuddering breath, willing yourself to continue; to get it all out. “Then . . . then I want you to fuck me,” you rambled out, tears welling up every time you blinked. He looked down on you with dark satisfaction, a pleased hum vibrating between his lips. “I need it. Fuck, do I need it, Kyle. Whatever you want. I can take it,” you begged against his lips, voice cracking. “Promise.”

-

You walked home wrapped in a daze, only noticing Kyle had left you a few blocks later. It took another block or so to piece everything together: he’d kissed the top of your head, squeezed your shoulders in a hug, asked you something you barely remembered, then pushed you forward across the crosswalk alone. You looked around, strands of sweaty hair itching at your skin. From the landmarks and style of houses you guessed you were near your own neighborhood. The functioning part of your brain kept your body walking on autopilot, forcing yourself forward. The rest of your mind was still occupied, reliving the wonderful night you’d just passed with him. With Kyle.

He’d given you exactly what you’d wanted, no further begging required. Pinned between the wall and his warm body, his strong fingers had efficiently worked an embarrassingly quick orgasm out of you. Boneless and panting against the cool wall, he’d chuckled into your neck; leaving little love bites as he waited for you to come down from your high.

“’s all you got, luv?” he’d goaded, gently stroking your already sweat-slicked thighs, “Tappin’ out already or are’y ready f’ more?”

Your hands around his neck weakly grabbed at his head, nails barely catching the close shaved curls at his nape. It was only now that you realized he must have been acting, just letting you think you’d pulled his head out of your neck in order to speak face-to-face.

“More,” you’d groaned, no bite left to your voice, as both of his hands palmed your ass to lift you away from the wall, “Need it.”

The street names became more and more familiar as the sun broke through the clouds, scattering the early morning fog. Around and around you traveled until you came to the familiar turn that marked your road. Your quaint, quiet little street lay in front of you. Thankfully, it was far too early on the weekend for anyone to be up and about. Every house you passed still had their curtains drawn, windows dark. As you drew closer to your home you instinctively reached for your house keys, finding them right where they always were, tucked safely in the first pocket of your purse. Your purse, you thought, your keys. He had made sure you had everything before you left.

Your stomach flip-flopped as you paused on your front step, key in hand halfway to the lock. He had been far too wonderful to just be a one-night thing. You blushed as you shoved your key in the lock with a shaking hand. The phantom of a thought crossed your mind that this could be yours and his house. He could be coming home to you. As you opened the door and crossed the threshold, you snuffed out the thought. Breathing in the familiar air of yours and John’s home; scented with his favorite laundry detergent, the mix of his colognes and your perfumes, the faint smell of lavender wicking into the stale air from the oil diffuser, it felt almost sacrilegious to think of another man like that.

It was just a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fling and nothing more.

You shook your head at yourself as you stripped off your jacket and shoes, your purse discarded haphazardly on the table. You checked the space where John’s jacket and shoes usually were. Still gone. The house was untouched from how you had left it last night. Strangely, it didn’t bother you that you had slept with another man. You searched your heart for guilt as you robotically went about your usual routine, but it just wasn’t there. You should have stopped right there, questioned yourself, maybe even called your husband to work through what should have been a turning point; a huge breach to the contract of your relationship. You didn’t, though. In that moment, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

John had hurt you. He was growing more and more emotionally distant by the day. He had cut you off from your friends and family when he moved you out here and then severed your last tie to the outside world when he convinced you to stop working. You had been such a fucking fool to fall into his trap. You had nothing and he had everything. Money, power, control, it was all in his hands. Fuck him, you told yourself as you pushed open the door to the downstairs bathroom; the one John used when he slept in the guest bedroom. He did this to himself, you fumed. He deserves it.Deserves to be hurt for once.

Kyle, though, Kyle had cared about you.

You struck the invasive thoughts from your mind as you shut yourself in the tiny, tile-lined bathroom. You needed to take a shower, to wash him from you and be done with this petty journey of revenge. You needed to be cleansed of the outside world to return purified into this one again. Stripping off your clothes, though, you were struck with the sinking reminder that it wouldn’t be the easy task you’d imagined. Your thighs were marred with irritated red blotches and tiny, almost imperceptible, semicircles of dents. Plain evidence of the bites your fling had scattered around your sex.

He’d stopped to do that every so often; pulling away just as he’d worked you to that delicious, spiraling peak right before you tipped over into bliss. The wet heat of his tongue on your clit replaced with sharp nips of teeth that had you begging please let me cum please please, Kyle, please.

The band of his arm was iron-fast around your middle, his hands strong around your thighs. He had you right where he wanted and seemed more than satisfied to keep you there for the time being. He bit at the skin of your mons, right above your clit; right where you really wanted him. Through your squirms and whines, he simply held you down and shushed you quietly – soft and gentle kisses replacing bites as your pleasure receded – until your pleas faded into sighs and his bedroom fell silent once more.

You scrubbed shampoo through your hair, unaware how long you’d been standing under the cool spray. You rinsed and quickly worked conditioner through the ends of your hair before slathering yourself with body wash, intent on finishing your shower before the last of the hot water ran out. You couldn’t afford to stand in the stall any longer: daydreaming about how many times he brought you right up to that blissful high before cruelly pulling away just to work you back up again. You needed to wash him off of you. His heady, slightly sweet, cologne. The smoke and nicotine that decidedly wasn’t your husband’s cigars. Needed every particle that wasn’t your own, normal smell gone before-

There was a sound from somewhere in the house: the shuffling and clicking of something achingly familiar. You shut the water off in a panic. Over the dripping from the shower head you could barely hear it. The front door closing. The little sounds continued: shoes dropping onto the boot tray, keys jangling as they clattered against the counter, a jacket softly shuffling as it was dropped over a chair and not on it’s place on the empty hook in the hall. Everything added up to only one possibility: John was home.

Fuck, you swore over and over as you scrambled out of the shower; at yourself, at him, at the guy who fucked your brains out last night, at god. Someone had to be to blame for the royal mess you were in. You toweled yourself semi-dry in a whirlwind, stopping only to listen with baited breath for where John was, what he was doing. Nothing unusual, from what you could hear beyond the bathroom. You wiped off the mirror, glaring back at the misty reflection that greeted you like you were both Medusa and Perseus. You checked both sides of your neck quickly. No redness. No bites. You breathed a sigh of relief that somehow wasn’t relieving at all. Still, you grabbed John’s ugly plaid robe off the back of the door and rolled the collar up until it dusted your jaw. You couldn’t be too careful.

Chucking your towel in the bin with your clothes, you finally made your exit. With an extravagant plume of steam following you, you opened the door intending to quickly steal upstairs where you could dress and avoid your husband for the rest of the day. He was waiting for you though. Eyes soft and full of love, slouching lazily against the back of the couch to catch you as soon as the door opened.

“There she is,” he purred, gathering you in the inescapable embrace of his arms. You let out a gasp at his suddenness as he kissed the wet crown of your head, a hum of satisfaction on his lips. “There’s my lovey,” he said stroking down your back, as if he was trying to convince you this is how he was, how it always was. “How was the shower? Relaxing?” he asked, loosening his grip. You took your opportunity, possibly the only one he would give you, and slithered out of his grasp.

“Fine!” you called behind you as you thudded up the stairs.

You didn’t stop running until the door to the master bedroom slammed shut behind you. You lay your back against it; panting and heart hammering in your chest as you waited. John didn’t follow you. You heard him walk around downstairs; making something to eat in the kitchen before turning on the TV. He probably thinks you’re still mad at him, you told yourself. Good. You dressed in your usual lounging-about-the-house clothes while inspecting the rest of your body for any errant love-bites or marks you might have missed before slipping back downstairs.

You and John shared a terse, awkward morning. You floated around each other, never lingering too long in each other’s presence. If you entered a room, he left it. Beyond that, he followed his usual routine: laundering his bag of gross gym-clothes, making up the guest bed, paper, lunch, out for a smoke, a football match. It wasn’t until he wandered in the kitchen while you were making dinner for the both of you – by force of habit – that he spoke to you again.

“’m sorry f’ how I’ve been lately,” he said laying his large hands on the stone counter top behind you, the one he wanted, his shoulders squared forward. His apology was a shock, making you pause at the food in the pan you were stirring. You looked back at him, waiting for something else. What else, you didn’t know. You suspect he didn’t know either, because his pale blue eyes plead with you to shore up the difference, finish his own apology because he’s not good with words, love, go on ‘n make this right to yourself.

You turned back to your mushrooms sizzling in the thickening gravy. Silence fell for only a moment before John sighed behind you.

“I know it’s hard, love. Trust me, I know,” he said, the counter creaking as he leaned against it.

You steeled your back; not answering, not turning around. Oh, he knew what it was like to be left alone now? That was rich. He was the one always leaving you. Promising you he would be around more once you got married, once you bought the house, once he got his promotion. Promises, promises, promises. How much longer would it go on? When would you be able to believe him? Once you had your first child? Your third? In five, ten, fifteen years? Or would you be a widow by then?

His hands skimming your hips interrupted your stewing. He groaned as he pressed himself to your back, a gentle kiss ghosting your ear. “Miss you so bad, love. Miss bein’ home with you.”

Miss you. Miss you. Miss you. You thought, body drawn taught and dangerous under his wandering hands. So easy to be missed, John, when you’re never fucking here.

You clicked off the burner, shoving the bubbling skillet of gravy away as you slipped out of your husband’s arms for the second time today. He didn’t fight to keep you there. You knew what he was planning, knew all of his old tricks already. He would butter you up with soft words and half-apologies, pour you a few glasses of wine while watching your favorite movie for once before whisking you upstairs to make it all better in bed between your thighs. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Everything would be back to how he liked it: his nice, pliant wife happily tucked away in his bungalow while he was out saving the world. If even that was true.

You weren’t out of the kitchen before John was sputtering, “But what about-”

“Not hungry anymore,” you muttered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you ran back upstairs, emotions rapidly fraying apart. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t let him touch you. Not now.

Not anymore.

-

[tac-the-unseen]

Stalker König

CW: talks of mental health, concerns not taken seriously, stalking, talks of Guns, Reader is doing their best, you better be ready to Google the meaning of flowers 💕

Your eyes shift to the oven's clock.

1:23 am

You huddle in the corner of your kitchen, silently crying, and shaking with every bone of your body. You desperately clutch a kitchen knife while praying that….that thing goes away.

For the past three months the shadows have been terrorizing you. You Know that when you look into the dark, something is looking back at you. Everybody you've talked to has told you, you were crazy. You've been called paranoid, and a few days ago someone called APS on you. They'd decided that you weren't in any immediate danger, but said they'd come back to check on you.

Tonight you couldn't sleep. Your body shuddered with terror with just the thought of closing your eyes. It's been a combination of little things that has built to this.

At first it was just small things going missing. Pens you left out, the sticky notes you doodled on, jewelry you didn't wear often. In fact the only reason you noticed things of yours was going missing, was because you wanted to wear a particular pair of fancy earrings to a company event. You looked for 30 minutes before just wearing another pair.

Then your favorite book disappeared. After a long day you were really looking forward to reading that book in bed before you passed out. But when you entered your room, the book wasn't on the shelf. You looked up and down, but you couldn't find it anywhere. You throw one of your other books across the wall out of frustration and left it there for the night. When you woke up that book was gone too.

Then things you've never owned started to show up in places you frequent. A red beaded bracelet you've never seen before showed up next to your kitchen sink. That new lipstick shade you've been wanting to try, You found it in your medicine cabinet when you went to brush your teeth. All that is spooky at best, but what really frightened you was a single bullet left on your office desk.

You told your boss you were sick and went home for the day…or at least that's where you told him you were going. You went straight into a public area like the women of your past have told you too, if you think you're in danger.

Kidnappers never take their victim in a crowded area.

Safer in numbers.

Cry, scream, kick, but never stop fighting.

You walked into a casual sit down restaurant and spent all night looking up what kind of bullet you were clutching in your palm.

A 9mm, just a small hunk of metal.

But you've never even held a gun, let alone own one.

You want to believe that a coworker accidentally dropped it on your desk, but it was perfectly placed. It was set up underneath your computer monitor, just out of sight for those passing, but when you sat down at your desk only you could see it.

This was deliberate.

This was not a coincidence.

But why? Why would you leave a bullet on someone's work desk? Is this a death threat? Is someone threatening your life? That thought alone made you crumble faster than you expected. You fought back tears while trying to think of who you might have pissed off.

The Receptionist you at your office? All you said was that you wouldn't be attending her baby shower. And anyway she got her revenge by ‘accidently’ eating your lunch.

The Uber driver you gave two stars too after he made a creepy comment about your chest? He just gave you a one star review a few minutes after.

That one girl in highschool that didn't like you? She peaked in highschool, you doubt she'd have the guts to pull off this stunt.

By the time you're ready to leave, it was night. You felt the fear fraying at your edges, the shadow’s non-existent eyes watching you, so you called one of your friends to pick you up.

You faked being drunk on the ride home. When she asked you about work, you said that they cut your shift without telling you and that you didn't mean to get wasted.

You're not sure she bought it, but she never brought it up.

When she pulls up to the house, you thank her, and pretend to stumble out of her car. She made sure you got inside before leaving and you haven't spoken since. But you couldn't worry about that now.

Your paranoia creeped in and made you check every corner of your house. Afterwards you crashed onto the couch and watched Judge Judy until you fell asleep.

When you woke up one of the blankets from your bed was wrapped around you.

You don't remember doing that.

You've never done that before. That panic in your stomach quaked and you got up to do another search around your home.

You found nothing, but called in sick anyway.

Two days later, and back at the office, you were clacking away at your keyboard when one of the mail distributors knocked on your door. The carrier was 17 if you remembered right, he was one of their nicer carriers. He was always kind to everyone in the office and was always telling jokes.

This time instead of carrying a letter or a stack of files, he was holding a large bouquet of Coral Roses, Anemones, red carnations, and Heliotropes. It was a gorgeous assortment of warm tones with just a little cool tones to balance everything.

“Caught someone’s eye?” The boy asked playful. You stand up to accept the gift. “Does it say from who?” You ask curiously. “Nope, just that it's for you.” You pick up the flowers and set them onto your already crowded desktop. “Someone has a secret admirer!” The boy teases and chuckles at his joke. “At least they're not cheap. I've delivered flowers to people before, but nothing this big before. Who ever it is, they really like you, or really need something from you…” he pause for a second “Well, it's a nice jester non the less.”

“I suppose it is…Tell you what, if you snag me an extra muffin from the community breakfast tomorrow morning, I'll make sure to update you if anything else comes up.” you hold out your hand to him. He thinks about it for a second before shaking your hand. “Deal!”

By the end of your day, you gently placed the flowers into the passenger seat. You've spent all day thinking about the flowers and who sent them. Just like the bullet, you didn't have a clue, But it was still nice to be appreciated like this.

No one's gotten you flowers before.

Because this was your first ever bouquet you dislodged some flowers and tied them upside down into your closet. You also persevered some in salt. You put the rest of the flowers into two glass bottles with some water.

You thought about persevering more, but you felt like that was a bit excessive. Besides you don't know where or who they're from….what if they are from the same person that left the bullet?

Those are two very different messages…

Soon enough You begin to spiral down a rabbit hole of anxiety and theories. deciding to (hopefully) sleep it off, you crawl to bed and bury yourself in your blankets.

Suddenly your body jolts you awake.

Through the sleepy haze you don't know what caused you to wake. You look at your phone, that You apparently forgot to charge, and realize it's 2:56 in the morning.

You try and rack your Brain for an answer to your sudden consciousness.

Then you hear it.

Glass.

Glass sliding across the floor in another room.

You look at your phone again.

3%

You figure it's better than nothing, plug it in, and dial 911.

“911, where is your emergency?” A female voice asks through the phone. Then your breath hitches in your throat.

Yes, you know Where you are. But you don't know Where the danger is. You don't even know if there is danger. And even if you did the house is silent, any noise you make could alert whatever is in your house.

You quietly breathe over the phone and slowly lay back down.

“Hello? Is there anybody there? This is 911, what is your emergency?” The woman asks.

You just breathe over the phone and quietly as possible.

“Is there something there that makes you unable to communicate?” The woman asks, finally understanding.

You hum a quiet yes, As inaudible as you can manage.

“Okay. I'm going to find you using your phone's pinged location. I need you to stay on the line with me so we can find and help you, okay?” she asks in a more hushed tone.

You just hum again and strain your ears trying to hear any sound.

You realize that the glass sound has stopped. And quiet footsteps start shuffling around your home.

You can hear doors opening and closing.

Soft breaths.

It's then you make another realization. It's now right outside your door. You can see two large shadows on the bottom of the doorway.

In a panic you turn your phones volume all the way down and hang up. You slide your phone back onto your night stand and pretend to be asleep.

And just in the nick of time too.

Your door softly creeks on its hinges.

The air is still and heavy, making it almost impossible to breathe.

You know you have to keep an even and low breathing pace. One of the tips you picked up in health that randomly stuck in your brain is that sleeping people use less oxygen.

If you wanted to sell this fake sleep, you'd have to force your body to deprive itself of its most valuable resource. Only for a little bit. Just until whatever, whoever is standing in your doorway leaves.

It moves forward

You only know this when they step on the only creaky floorboard in your room.

Whoever is in your room is dead silent.

You have to remind yourself not to furrow your brow when they continue their movement.

The air is still again

It lingers

You hear the sound of fabric shifting and stretching right next to you.

The terror in your chest scratches at your ribs when you feel the gentle movement of your hair sliding behind your ear.

You have not idea what to do.

What do you do?

You rack your brain for what normal people do when they sleep.

Snore? No, if you start now it would be a dead give away.

Mumble? Mumble what? What do people mumble in their sleep? Nothing you can come up with on the spot, that's for sure.

You decide to make a bold move and as lazily as you can shift your body's position.

That's what people do.

You push deeper into your pillow and raise your knee to about stomach level. It's a totally normal sleep position and almost everyone moves in their sleep.

A knot in your stomach churns. You fucking hate yourself. What if they don't buy it? What if you're digging your own grave? For fucks sake you don't even know if the intruder is armed.

The intruder chuckles softly and the shifting of fabric once again is dangerously close.

You think they just stood up?

Whatever, if they're moving, they're likely leaving.

Suddenly you can hear the faint sounds of sirens. They sound only a few streets away.

Your admirer clearly hears the same thing and swiftly makes their move out of the room.

It still terrifies you how quiet they are.

You hear the glass in your hallway slide once more only followed by the sirens getting much closer.

It's only when you hear a pounding at your front door and the announcement of police, do you peel open your eyes and take a deep breath.

When you reach over to retrieve your phone do you feel something else touch your hand.

You readjust your vision and your eyes widen.

A flower

Or flowers

Bright, vivid red flowers.

One stalk, several flowers.

They take hours looking through your home, questioning you.

They tell you to find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

Like you'll ever sleep again.

You put on shoes and walk to a late night convenience store and wait out the stars there. You explain yourself to the cashier and they let you loiter in the store.

But you can't keep the flowers out of your head.

Your phone is only at 28% so you don't have much time to mess around on there.

It takes about 8 minutes but you finally find the flowers that were ‘given’ to you…

Red Salvia…

You really weren't crazy…

Thanks for reading <3

Totally forgot I wrote this.... My bad gang...

Also don't worry about the inconsistencies, I wrote this like 6 months ago and only updated a little bit.

[girlwitheconverse]

YOUR BEAUTY NEVER EVER SCARED ME

╰┈➤ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Genre: romance, fluff, a little angst

Story type: two part story, short story

Part 1 | Part 2

Word count: 870

TW(s) for this part: insecurities, mentions of face scars

Simon fan art credit: @shkretart

masterlist

taglist and requests masterlist

God, being Ghost’s girlfriend surely isn't easy. He has a lot of boundaries, like a lot: no hugging, no intimate touches, no sudden touches…But the most important one was the mask stays on. Always.

Even though you two have been together for almost a year you’ve never seen Simon’s face apart from his lips since he sometimes felt comfortable enough to kiss you, even for a split second, but you’re glad even for that little moment.

You understand how hard it is for him to open up to people, and you’re glad for every single moment that you get to spend with him.

Today was your one year anniversary, and you happily hand Simon the gift you’ve got him, he looks at you with wide eyes and from the movement of them you understand that he’s smiling under the mask. He opens the little box and looks inside: you’ve gifted him a necklace with the date of the day you two got together imprinted on the pendant.

“Do you like it?” You ask anxiously, choosing a gift for him was so difficult.

“I love it, darling” he says in a soft tone, the tone he reserves to you only. From the moment he entered your room today you had noticed that he didn't have a gift with him, but you didn’t care: you two had made it to one year of relationship, that was already a gift for you. “Darling…I wanted to get you something too, but…I didn’t know what to get you…” He says as he looks down at the necklace still in the little box.

“You don’t have to worry about this kind of things, really.” you say with a soft smile, he walks to your bed and sits down, making you stand between his open legs.

Like this you’re just one or two inches taller than him.

“But, in the end, something came to my mind…” he says almost in a whisper as he takes your hands in his and places them on his cheeks, you look at him confused. He isn’t wearing his skull balaclava, just a normal ski mask, you could feel the soft, black, fabric against your fingertips.

“Simon? What…?” You ask confused as you cup his cheeks in your hands over the soft fabric.

Simon takes a deep breath and looks directly in your eyes as he leans in your touch, he loves the way you touch him: like he’s made of crystal and at the same time he’s precious to you but you’re still afraid that he could break at any moment. “The mask, you can take it off.”

Your heart drops and your eyes widen.

“W-What? A-Are you sure? If it’s for the gift, don't worry, I-I–”

“I’m sure, darling…I trust you, I want you to see my face…But I can’t promise that it will be a good view.” He tries to laugh it off, but the truth is that he’s filled with anxiety: what if you don’t like the way he looks? What if you find his face hideous (just like he does)? Will you – the first person he has ever trusted and loved – leave him?

“We need to work on your confidence.” You chuckle slightly, “are you sure? 100%? 1000%? If I lift this mask I won’t find another one right under, will I?”

He chuckles at your excitement, “I’m sure and don’t worry, under this mask there’s just my face.”

“Okay then.” You smile and kiss his lips through the mask one last time before slowly lifting his mask up, the first thing you see are his lips and you kiss them softly.

Then the tip of his nose, youI kiss that too.

You take a deep breath and, as Simon closes his eyes, you take the mask off completely. Simon continues to keep his eyes closed as you stare at his face, the first thought that goes in your mind is: so his hair is light brown.

Only after you notice the scars that are all over his face, he has one on his upper lip, one on his left cheek, one on his right eyebrow and two on his forehead.

“See? I told you…Definitely not a good view.” He whispers as he slowly opens his eyes, only to see you smiling down at him with a few tears on your face, “Hey! Why are you crying? Am I that ugly?”

“God, no…You’re so handsome…” You whisper as you gently touch his face. “I’m crying because I’m…so happy right now.” You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I…Am handsome?” Simon asks, shocked as his cheeks become red, a shy smile forms on his mouth.

You nod happily, “I just want to…Kiss you all over your face.”

“You can do it.” He says shyly, you don’t waste time and immediately start to leave lovely kisses all over his face while he chuckles.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You repeat between each kiss, Simon looks at you with a smile. He feels so loved now, loved like he has never felt in his entire life.

And for the first time in a year, he says it: “I love you.”

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