#bully game x you

[imagine-workshop]

Imagine #17

Year made in?:2023

A/N:I do not know the artist as Angel got it off of Pinterest and it didn’t have the artist’s name. Here the post and if you see the artist’s signature please tell me so I can add it! Post here. Also none of Angel’s stuff is proofread!

Extended version:Everyone knew Johnny was a greaser and didn’t listen to anyone…anyone but Y/N L/N. Y/N is the only person he’ll ever listen to. “Johnny..please, I know you love her but you can’t blame every guy she flirts with because she’s also to blame! The more pissed you get, the more she’s gonna use that!” That’s what made Johnny start to stop giving a shit about Lola. “Johnny..do your work please” That’s what made Johnny behave a week before Christmas break. Those are just examples of how Johnny will listen to Y/N but currently he’s just resting his head on her.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind as Johnny was pretty calm. Lola was blowing his phone up but Johnny didn’t answer the call until the fifth call. “What Lola?” “Why haven’t you been talking to me!?” “Because I don’t want to!” “Oh please! It has to be that slut mes-“ “YOU DO NOT CALL Y/N A SLUT YOU WHORE! She’s done so much shit to help me out unlike you! So don’t you EVER call my mom a slut!” Johnny then hanged up and sighed. He then saw Y/N smiling which confused him. “Why ya smiling?” “You called me mom!” Johnny then realized what he said out loud and got embarrassed.

After that day though he did openly call her mom and didn’t let anyone disrespect her at all. He’s a mama’s boy at heart after all.

#imagine #extended #platonic imagine #female reader #fem reader #bully x reader #bully game x reader #bully x y/n #bully game x y/n #bully game imagine #bully game x you #bully x you #picture imagine

[theshippirate22]

listen st4 ROBBED us of so so so much, but really I think the the biggest travesty is the fact that we never got platonic Harringham. Like, of course, platonic Stobin is so perfect in every way- i worship it really- and i don’t mean to minimize that AT ALL but like.

Steve and Chrissy absolutely LOSING THEIR SHIT at a football game.

Steve and Chrissy having a crush on the same baseball player and arguing over which pants his ass looks better in.

Steve and Chrissy giving each other the same ??? look when Robin or Eddie say something nerdy.

Steve and Chrissy going to the gym together and losing track of whose basketball shorts are whose.

Steve and Chrissy bonding over the fact that their mothers hate them.

Steve teaching Chrissy to cook and slowly helping her get over her eating disorder.

Steve and Chrissy sharing tips for sore muscles and collapsing on the couch together with bags of frozen peas and corn after going a little too hard.

Steve and Chrissy going for runs at dawn together and getting back long before Robin or Eddie would ever dream of being awake.

Steve and Chrissy throwing the biggest super bowl party ever and screaming and grabbing each other’s arms every time there’s a touchdown.

Steve, who’s been having migraines since his first concussion, helping Chrissy out, who’s started getting headaches since Vecna fucked with her head.

Chrissy offering to drive Lucas to and from basketball because she’s going to the school for cheer anyway, and it’s one less thing he has to worry about.

Steve and Chrissy sitting in on a DnD game, getting bored a few hours in and going out to the driveway to play Horse (Chrissy has never won- she wants the challenge so she never lets Steve go easy on her and he respects her enough not to)

Steve and Chrissy side-eyeing each other when someone has the AUDACITY to say they like the Colts, knowing full well that they’re going to have to dish on the person the second they get in the car (They know the Colts are Indiana’s team. The Steelers are just… better.)

Steve protecting Chrissy from creepy ex-boyfriends who just want to take advantage of her, and Chrissy protecting Steve from creepy ex-girlfriends who just want to take advantage of him.

Chrissy convincing Steve to get back into swim, and him agreeing as long as she gets back into dance.

Chrissy wearing her whole cheer uniform to his meets and sitting on the edge of the bleachers every time he’s in the pool, palms sweating as he flies through the water- Robin and Eddie went to go get McDonald’s an hour ago- eyes darting from his silhouette to the clock and back again, muttering under her breathe, “Come on, Steve, come on!”

Chrissy screaming when he wins, running to the edge of the pool to grab him, even though he’s soaking wet and she spent so long on her hair and “Holy shit, you did amazing!”

Steve making his own sort of cheer uniform to wear to her competitions, always driving her to them so he can hype her up in the car on the way. Calling “You’re a god, you can crush ‘em with your thighs!” as they split up so she can go to the dressing rooms backstage.

Steve leaping to his feet in the audience to clap the second she’s finished, whether it’s a team dance or a solo, or a duo-She’s the only one worth watching- whistling and cheering for her so loud, it would be a phenomenon if she didn’t hear him.

idk

just let Steve have another bisexual jock bestie who won’t make fun of his interests. Who knows how much he wants this, who knows how hard it is.

idk.

#can you tell i’m sick of steve getting bullied #like oh my god leave him alone #let him watch the game of fetch for gods sakes it’s the least you can do #reblog with your own headcanons please i want to see what i missed #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #chrissy deserved better #buckingham #robin x chrissy #platonic stobin #platonic hellcheer #platonic harringham

[severussnapemylove]

(Severus and readers child going to Hogwarts)

Severus; “Daddy’s going to drop kick anyone who touches you.”

Y/N; “And Mummy’s going to bail Daddy out of jail.”

#Crack #But seriously #With the multi-generational bullying that happens in that school #It’s good you and Sev have a game plan to handle things #severus snape #reader insert #severus snape x reader #protective severus #dad severus

[bottlehawk]

the best thing about going through old posts from 2012 is remembering how people on tumblr and the internet in general back then spoke EVERY other WORD in CAPS LOCK while reacting to things they vaguely liked as if oh my god. OH MY GOD. IT WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER!!!!! while PUNCTUATING THEIR SENTENCES with EXCLAMATIONS!!! but never splitting apart sentences word by word with them as we do more often now and instead

using

the

enter

key

vigorously

for emphasis so that you end up reading everything very dramatically with lots of PAUSES and changes in caaaaaaadence~ and an. ti. ci. PATION!!!

with quirky visual references to accompany this fanciful theater kid julliard applicant text. 2012 was the year of the theater kids and everyone including the theater kids knew it. and nowadays online we're all just lowercase derailing train of thought no punctuation no excitement just mumbling quietly to ourselves snarky hipsters and even when we get exCITED@!!! like this it's intentionally bungled so it's less of you being genuinely enthusiastic and more of you putting on a voice so that you can have the copout of being satirical about being enthusiastic. and this is due to the post-2015 mass surgence of dave strider influenced transmascs being released to mingle with the rest of society coinciding with the great cringe culture epidemic of the mid-2010s. in this essay i will

#homestuck #bottlehawk text #seriously the mid early 2000s was peak theater kid culture. nowadays a hated breed persecuted by many. but they were king back in the day. #people will still get excited “like this!!” but as you can see it is way more chill without caps lock and also pretty girly #or “LIKE FUCKING THIS!!! FUCK YEAHHHHHH” so that the colorful swearing makes you sound socially acceptable and like you're at a sports game #but just read a couple of 2013 posts talking about how X fandom is actually rlly cool despite what the bullies say FUK DEM I WILL HUG U >_<! #and you will see the difference

[whaleofatjme1920]

gahhhh i love your work sm!! perhaps reader comforting the 141 + König and Horangi if possible? something along the lines of like you were away on a mission for too long, you nearly died, they had a really tough mission, or maybe even that they just a bad nightmare </3

Task Force 141: Real World Nightmares

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: Hi love bug, I only accept 5 characters per ask so I'm only doing Task Force 141. Also thank you so so much!! I also don't,,, know about about Horangi at this moment and I'm a certified Konig hater /lh]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Captain John Price

It's hell waiting to see if you're still alive. Pacing the halls, unable to think straight and far too aggressive with anyone that even asks if he's doing alright. Price doesn't handle your life being on the line very well.

He's been waiting for correspondence from you. Hours feel like weeks. You're supposed to come back to him. He hasn't bothered to change out of his gear, not when he's posted by the door hoping you'll walk through it.

When you do? He feels the world roll from his shoulders. He holds you tight. He's not emotional in the sense of crying, I don't think any of them really would, but he does that thing where he like, chastises you for taking so long to get back to him.

He checks you over, quickly, just to make sure you don't have any life threatening wounds. You're okay, rough, but generally okay. He can't let you go, won't let you go.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

A bit more neurotic when making sure you're alright. He almost gets lost in his head when waiting for you with bated breath. The moment things start to go wrong for you, he wants to figure out plans to help and get you out. Kyle isn't so clouded by his emotions that his judgment goes to hell but he's not the best at decision making either.

Price will tell him to sit down, might argue with him just a bit, but overall, Kyle listens to Price. Price knows you'll handle yourself, and even though the situation it awful, you'll be just fine. You're slippery and intelligent. And they're working on helping you.

Kyle, naturally, is the first to actually find you in the heat of it all. Slides up beside you, thankful he's at your side while the two of you are pinned for a moment or so and all he can think of is protecting you. You look a little worse for wear, but he knows it's nothing too bad physically.

You'll both make it. Eventually, after managing a tricky escape, he holds you. He's much more affectionate and spends more than enough time saying how much he loves you but it's for good reason. He can't bear the thought of actually losing you.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Instantly wants to come get you. Hearing you've been captured makes him lose most of his rational thought. He has to be held back from just storming in. And it's not that Johnny is a bad strategist, he just really can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you when he could have been doing something rather than sitting around!

He eventually reels himself in and gets the others to come up with a plan, still working quicker than what's considered sane after getting confirmation you're 'okay.'

Coming to get you makes him feel everything all at once. He's focused on being disciplined and deadly accurate. He won't play around with your life.

Seeing you is the biggest relief. He holds you so tight, squeezes you and doesn't let you go. He's so sweet in making sure you're alright without smothering you in the same way others might.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Quite clinical! He tends to care so deeply about other people it hurts. Doesn't know when to reel in his own empathy despite hiding it so well. You hold his entire heart, and if anything happens to you, it'll break. To protect himself, but more importantly you, he needs to keep you safe.

He's got plans about everything brewing in his head. I think Ghost likes to think of every possible route in case things go wrong, and unfortunately that means he was also expecting something like this. He's on it, everyone else is on it.

You're... he's afraid you won't make it through the night once he finally gets you in his arms. He sees the loss of his loved ones flash in his eyes as he holds you when you make it out of surgery to recover. Squeezes your hand, rests near you and gives you space while also clinging so tightly to you. He knows he won't and can't live without you.

You eventually fall deeper into sleep. He watches. His eyes are stuck on you, can't look anywhere else. Won't look anywhere else. There's still a chance you won't make it. He hates that his nightmare might finally become true.

#don't bully me I haven't stared at this game for a hot minute or two #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x you #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[areallycoolanduniqueusername]

Michael Afton is a comfort character to me because I know I could tell him all my darkest secrets and he would be like "I mean I've done soooo much worse, so like....eh"

#michael afton #NOT x reader or self-shipping but like interpret it how you want #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fr tho I love his arc of going from like #the bully character in fnaf 4 #to turning out to be the protagonist #for the entire series #and it makes me go crazy thinking about how he must have developed #and how the games have never fully explored that #which sucks #but also the cruuuumbs #THE CRUUUMMMBBBSSS!!!!

[the-friendly-entity]

[ ~"Long Time"~ ] - Pokemon

Is been so long since your first adventure in Kalos, a lot of things happened and a lot of adventures you have all around the world, but things go as you never expected, you go back where your adventure started, finding a familiar face

What contains? Vent, Sensitve Content

Can be visualized as? Family Relation Ship, Friend Relation Ship

Professor Sycamore was always busy, as a Professor, he always needed to check all new information about Pokemons, and help out new trainers in their adventure, teaching them and giving them all the resources for they adventure, is a hard job, but something he was happy about it, all the memories and new face he meets, is there always something to remember and smile about, that what he love about his job

but, is always important to take a rest, and Professor Sycamore did after finishing checking all the information and helping out, going out of his lab, to take a walk, and enjoying the sun and the surroundings of Kalos, after all, he most of the time he inside the lab, is something he needs, taking a deep breath and sigh with a smile

as he walks, he looks around, the people, pokemon, the stores, and cafes, just enjoying his surroundings, the smell of all kinds of foods and desserts makes his tummy rumble, and he does a small laugh, he knows this gonna happen, thinking what to order for a small meal, something for sure he will order a coffee

as he got near one of the cafes, something caught his attention, an instinct of something familiar near him, confused about this feeling, looked around the entrance of the cafe where there were tables outside where very low people enjoying the food, one of them, he noticed a familiar face

it was You, he was surprised to see you, it had been so long, he remembered you when was younger, when you chose your first Pokemon, and all your journey, all the memories were passing fast in his mind, and now, look at you, you grow up but still remember you

he was happy to see a familiar face after so long time, he slowly go near your table and called your name "[Y/N]! is been so long" Professor Sycamore says, you finally noticing him "Look at you, you grow up eh?" he chuckles "It's very nice to see ya back, how you have been?"

You were nervous, Sycamore noticed that, but at first he can understand, it's been so long since saw each other faces, it was almost like the first time, so he let you talk in your peace, as you two talked, and you tried to respond his questions, he can't stop noticed, that odd feeling annoying him back on his mind, like you weird attitude, trying to almost avoid some normal questions or not even responding about it some of them, your voice, almost so quiet and forced to talk, almost that hint of sadness in it, and mostly, the eye contact, avoiding see him in the eyes or even face, is not like you uncomfortable to see someone in the eyes but, is like you scared of being someone you close with, hiding something you dont want to say, he can notice that, and as more you two talk, more that feeling is overwhelming him, something is wrong with you and he need to help you, after all, is what a professor must do

"Is everything alright?" Professor Sycamore asks, surprising you "I dont know what is happening but, I can make sure, I'm here to hear you, whatever is making you feel that way, I'm here for you kid" he says, looking at you with worried but calm expression, giving you a confident smile to make you understand everything will be alright

Your eyes slowly tears appear, you can't hold it anymore and hide your face on the table covering it with your arms and crying, trying to make the low sound as possible to not make attention, this worries Professor Sycamore, he never sees you this sad before, so hurt and broken, he was worried about what happen to you, but for now, he gently caress you back, "There there, let it all out, do not hold any single tear" he say, letting you cry and make all does feeling out

as you finally finish crying, feeling less heavy holding does feeling, you slowly explain to Professor Sycamore about what your feelings, he was mostly quiet all the time letting you talk all you need and mostly understand what happened to you, he was sad about what he hearing, "life was showing you the worse face eh?" he said, there a sad tone in his voice, is not something new to him but not so common too, of trainers giving up due other trainers who as been very rude to them for unjustified reasons, even the point being dangerous, he sighs

"Being a trainer, can bring a lot of good things, but a lot of bad things too, people often forget being a trainer is not just to show who the best of all around the world, but is also the journey, the friends you make in the way, the pokemons you meet and discover and join in your team, and most of all, the memories" Professor Sycamore carefully hold your hand, trying to give you comfort "I'm so sorry all this happen to you, but none of it is your fault alright? No matter what the other trainers as been say to you, all does words will never be real, I understand is now hard for you to feel the same way you felt in the past, are no longer the same eyes as people ruin your vision....but I can understand it"

"You not alone [Y/N], there a lot of people there who have been feeling the same as you, due to you are different from other trainers' vision and motivations, but that does not make you be less, alright?" Professor Sycamore looks at you, hoping he could comfort you from all you have been holding on your back, even was just simple words and talking, you feel relief, you need it, to someone to hear you, and you never feel you could do it due the trainers' vision as been show, as if your problems is just something dumb and not important, but Professor Sycamore as showing you it was not, he was there for you

he invite you to a coffee and desserts, to make you feel calmer and better and takes the time to pause the talk, he feels disappointed of how some people treat others because they do not follow what they want a like, everyone has they decisions and motivations in life and no one is in the right to change that because is not what you like, but the hit of the competition make people act in ways are not even human, to the point to break others with any excuses to show them they are 'better', a real trainer knows this is not the right way

after a snack, you feeling now more calm after that, Professor Sycamore is was happy to see you better, you still talk low but less nervous and more free away, he promise he will help you to front go on help you deal with this

he can see you struggle with anything related to Pokemon or even pokemons itself, almost like a phobia, afraid to be hurt by anything related to it...even he is sad about how the other trainers treat you to the point you even develop fear, that will not stop him to help you

Slow steps will be made to help you in this new journey, he will not force you to like Pokemon again, but will help you to make your life easy, to front does traumas and fears, to make you back to smile

You are very thankful to have someone like him to help you with this, you was feeling lost and almost like you do not belong in this world of how people make you believe, but Professor Sycamore shows you the opposite, you belong, and even if things will never be the same, you will slowly being yourself, no longer being influence from what others people told you/treat you

#A vent front myself #I normally dont show vents public but i think i made this expetion knowing there people out there who as been in the situacion as mine #As also a good reminder to everyone to please let people enjoy what they feel happy in what saga #And let them enjoy these game or shows as they like not everyone is for the battle or competicion #just becuse people dont have the same vision as you does not mean is incorrect that the way they enjoy things #Pokemon #Pokemon Y and X #Pokemon Y #Pokemon X #Professor Sycamore #Kalos #Reader #You #Y/N #TW: Vent #TW: sensitive #TW: Bullying #TW: Trauma Topics #TW: Phobia Topics

[black-and-yellow]

You had better read this.

If it’s a hit, I’ll continue it. If not, it’ll probably get abandoned. Which is OK cause you already know the story from the comics. But yeah if you give it a read let me know what you think. 

#back at it again with the cringe x #if I'm self aware it's not cringe right #if I ever have to tell anyone in real life that I wrote a BNHA fic I'll start crying #I'm not even joking #I'm glad I'm not in college anymore I'd get bullied so hard #bnha #mha #villain!mic #loudspeaker au #named after that one bit in Two by Mother Mother #which is a very Loudspeaker song if you haven't heard it #I love the backing vocals #not named after the indie horror game where you turn into a giant amalgamation of human limbs and go on a rampage #although that game is super wicked so maybe it should be

[offantasiesandreams]

Ok I just have very adorable adorable idea for tall player so imagine batter was overworking himself and the player is worried . They told him to take rest but he always said that he will do it later . Then they decided to take the matters in their own hands and just picked them up like and goes to the shop which was empty fortunately and nobody is there except for zacharie. They went there and set down in a corner and just cuddle them . Batter was confused about it and was going to ask until the player falls asleep and he finds that he is struck with the cuddle monster XD.

Bonus if zacharie comes closer to have a better view the player garbs him and cuddles him alone with batter . All of them fall asleep together

You can ignore the request if ya want

How could I ever possibly ignore a request where I get to bully Batter with Zacharie, love and cuddles! This is brilliant! I had fun writing this, plus it made me sleepy as well, haha!

Tall Player Cuddling with Batter and Zacharie

“Batter, take a break, right now.”

“My Player, I appreciate your concerns, but I must finish off this foe before any more harm shall be done.”

Needless to say, you were entirely unimpressed by Batter’s excuse. Beaten and bruised, panting and pained, even a warrior like him had his limits, a blind person could see that. No matter how stubborn he may have been, you cared about him. He was more than just a puppet. Friend? Lover? That was yet to be seen, but what was important is that he would - and may god himself give you the strength needed for that task - need to be put to sleep. Sighing, you crossed your arms as you watched this absolute buffoon get hit by a standard spectre. Naturally, he defeated it, eventually, but he had gotten more injured than he should have.

Having returned to you, his half open pair of eyes gazed upon you, emotionless as always, clearly expecting something. Whether it be your praise or simply your being in motion was unbeknownst to you. Even so, what he expected he shall not get, for you had other plans. Even at his tall height, you still towered over him, and with that difference, you hoped it would intimidate him into doing as he was told. But alas, he had faced meaner foes. Perhaps it was time for him to see just how mean you could be yourself.

“Batter, go the fuck to sleep.” If looks could kill you hoped he would only have been knocked out.

“No, we must-” But alas, he was cut off by his own surprise upon being hoisted over your shoulder as though he was a sack of potatoes. “A-ah? My Player, what is the meaning of this?” Whether he was aware of this or not, Batter’s voice contained some form of shock he had never felt before. Truly, as much as he loved you, he had underestimated you when it came to pure strength. He may have been lean, but was muscular enough, after all. Where did your muscles come from?

“Batter? Shut up for once, will ya.” In spite of his early struggles, although it was obvious there was no intention of him actually desiring to leave your grip on fear of hurting you, Batter soon gave in to your will, as he usually would, and simply watched the world pass him by as he was carried as though he was a little child. From afar, it seemed as though even the spectres were chuckling at him.

What seemed like thirty minutes of pure surprise and shame had finally passed and he was put down on your lap. Stiff as a board, not knowing how to react or what to properly do, he simply looked around. No spectres, no Elsen, just an empty building.

And someone’s chuckling.

“My, my, if it isn’t the Player and their cohort. However may I serve you, even in a moment like this?”

“Zacharie, shut it. Or - even better - why don’t you come here? Take a gander at this tired fella.”

Batter felt as though he was an animal at an exhibition, but what was he supposed to do? Still, something in your voice was weird. It seemed as though there was playful danger in it. Were you teasing Zacharie at this moment? Pulling down his cap a bit, Batter did his best to try and hide his embarrassment, which, in turn, only made him more susceptible to Zacharie.

And, just like you told him to, Zacharie approached the two of you, crouching down to see eye to eye with Batter. What the merchant did not anticipate, however, was you suddenly reaching out to grab him. Another well planned surprise of yours. While Zacharie may have been quite a bit shorter than you, he never expected you to be able to pull him down that easily either. In the end, both boys were sprawled all over your lap, with you holding them close to you. Zacharie was nice and toasty, with Batter being the opposite, but neither of them seemed to openly protest.

“Hmm, that will cost you extra, I’m afraid.” You could literally hear the cocky grin in the merchant’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah, you can get one cookie from me, and that’s it.”

Zacharie was the first to snuggle into you and Batter. How long has he gone without any friendly touch? Well, that wasn’t a question you had ever considered up until now. Either way, he wrapped his arms around both of you, while Batter rested his head on your shoulder and Zacharie’s forehead. The warmth of two people was a lot to take in. But for some reason, it felt so nice. Feeling your heartbeat where he had put his hand, it was… pleasant. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to stay asleep for too long. What if the ghosts and ghouls were to attack?

Ever so gently, Batter tried to slide out of your grip once he was certain you were asleep. Yet, there was one thing he failed to consider: your massive strength. Truly, he was trapped in an embrace of yours and Zacharie’s. No matter how much he struggled, he was only met with hushing and shushing, there was no end in sight to this cruelty. All he could do was forfeit and give in to his fate of snuggles and cuddles.

#off (game) #off x reader #batter x reader #batter x player #zacharie x player #zacharie x reader #Batter is cat confirmed #wants cuddles but doesn't want cuddles you know? #either way hug these two nerds and bully them #they're perfectly hug shaped #and hug size #but boy howdy does writing comfort and fluff make you tired #especially when listening to the bangers of SDV

[darsynia]

Find the Word Tag!

Tagged by @residentdormouse and I sure am delighted! My words are: Playful, Energy/Energized, Exhausted, Delight/Delightful, Sorrow, and I'm putting the first one second because it's smutty :) It was HARD to find 'sorrow' in my stories! Edit: and somehow no Steve! Whoops. Tag me again :P

I'd like to tag: @ronearoundblindly @themaradaniels @peyton--warren @baba-fett @sobeautifullyobsessed @bakerstreethound and @deepbatched (spreading around the fandoms/characters hehe! I hereby state that if you don't have many WiPs to use stories you already have published!)

Your words are: Tear/Tearing, False, Blanket, Sweet, Ground (any form)

From 'Joined By the Waters of Time,' Anthony Bridgerton/OC | ENERGY

“I beg pardon, Lady Bridgerton, I did not see you,” Cara said hastily, rushing to stand so she could dip into a greeting curtsey.

“Do not be concerned,” Lady Violet said with a brisk head shake. “I was pleased to see you awake and looking well, but you seemed contemplative, and I did not wish to disturb you.”

“I have bad experiences with thunderstorms,” Cara explained.

“Meanwhile, my brother loves them,” Daphne laughed. “He will probably jest that your dislike of them is part of your ‘involuntary resistance.’”

“What is this?” Lady Violet asked, setting her sewing aside and walking over.

Daphne looked disconcerted. “His remarks were made in frustration, of course, with an eye toward explaining his lack of success, but…” she paused, brows furrowing. Cara imagined she was searching for a diplomatic way to explain their conflict.

“Until recently, I was engaged in a campaign to match your son with my cousin. As such, I exerted my energy in redirecting his attentions away from myself whenever possible.”

She had to congratulate herself on her forthrightness, which would hopefully take any pressure off of Edwina if there was still any question of their match. What she hadn’t expected was Lady Violet’s surprise. It hinted at the idea that their invitation had always been centered around herself, and not a choice between cousins.

“So is there voluntary resistance, as well, then?” Lady Violet’s voice was amused, and she broke out into a wide smile when she saw Cara’s attempt to prevaricate. “Poor Anthony.”

From 'Iron Helix,' Tony Stark/OC | PLAYFUL

“A judicious retreat. People respect a decisive leader, but not one that clings to a losing position. Give in.”

He was definitely moving incrementally nearer. She yearned to close the distance, but his words were weighted. The only thing that would be worse than being rejected, Evie realized, would be to have been rejected after she got to have this. That’s why she followed Tony’s example and grabbed a handful of the blanket on the bed beside her and looked him right in the eyes.

“Which option are you asking for?” she said, feeling like she had a responsibility to signal her certainty that he’d reject her. 

Tony’s nose brushed her cheek, and his breath danced across her lips.  “The one where you trust me,” he whispered, hoarsely. “Yield, Hyacinth. It’s easy, watch--”

--and with that, his lips met hers, one hand tearing away the bunched-up blanket at her hips to drag her underneath him. Tony went from teasing to beguiling, putting all his sensual powers of persuasion to bear on her. 

Evie was on board, raising her bare leg and angling her foot across his backside, locking him in place. He ran the flat of his hand from her hip, across her chest, and along her arm, linking their fingers together and slamming them into the mattress.

She loved kissing, and it was obvious Tony did too. He was really good at it, dominant but not domineering, playful, not afraid to show her he was affected and enjoying himself. And if she’d thought his ability to wreck her without using his hands was heady enough, she was completely seduced by him now. Their combined hands were a proxy of the push and pull of their bodies; Evie rolled her hips in response to the drag of his lips and tongue, and he ground against her, pressing his hardness right where she wanted it.

From 'Trust Fall,' Tony Stark/OC | EXHAUSTED

It’s not long after takeoff when a flight attendant comes over and asks Emory if she’s the person pictured in the article on her phone. She’s already shell-shocked and exhausted after telling her friend and colleague that the organization he’s been risking his life for is infiltrated by literal bad guys. She’d told Clint while still hanging underneath the helicopter, but once they were inside, the atmosphere was too tense to tell anyone else. Agent Rumlow and his team had lost two guys and a few more were wounded. They’d all been furious and demoralized, and that was without knowing the secret about HYDRA’s infiltration.

“Miss?”

“I’m sorry, it was a long day,” Emory says. She feels stretched, like keeping a secret this impactful can multiply in a person’s system until the infection takes them down from within. “Yes, that’s me, but what--”

“You were the one in the cave with Tony Stark?” The young woman’s excitement dampens as she frowns at her phone. “He-- he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No!” Emory says, deeply confused. “What--”

She grabs the phone, and it’s a testament to what she sees written there that the flight attendant doesn’t protest.

From 'Diminished Seventh,' Stephen Strange/OC | DELIGHTED

“Surgeon. You did say that.” Amy let her legs slide down from where she’d drawn them up against her chest. “Why aren’t you anymore? Were you looking for a way to cheat death?”

The question was fraught, but the words had already left her lips. Explaining why she wanted to retract them would be more painful than pushing through.

“No,” Stephen said. The word bore more weight than it ought to, she noticed. “I was injured. My hands.” He didn’t hold them up, instead toying with the tubes of the stethoscope absently. He shrugged, and again, she sensed weight there, a great loss bandaged up in shrugs and sarcasm. “I lost that job, needed another one.” 

His hidden sadness made Amy again yearn to see what he looked like pleased, contented, happy, joyful, delighted. She wanted to collect his emotions, mix and match them, be able to conjure them on demand. The strength of it shook her.

While she was reckoning with that, Stephen leaned over and pressed the stethoscope to her chest. Amy seized up, too vulnerable to want him quite so near, not with those thoughts only a breath away.

“I thought you said you were feeling bet--” He cut himself off, pulling his hand and the medical device away. “You are afraid of me.”

“I don’t know how to feel,” Amy said defensively. It was the honest truth, and as such, felt too revealing by half.

From 'A Solution More Beautiful,' Remus Lupin/OC/Sirius Black | SORROW

“Soup would be a great dinner idea,” Remus said, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Even though Sirius detests soup. It’s almost as if his mother trained him to be some sort of anti-soup crusader.”

“Which actually means she fed him soup every day while yelling at his technique, more like,” Elodie said, laughing.

Remus looked at her with a curious expression on his face. “Sirius talked to you about his mother?” he asked, clearly very surprised.

Elodie’s heart sank. She’d slipped up with her unnatural knowledge again. She decided to deflect with the truth. “No, he didn’t,” she said. “I just remember the subject of his mother came up, once, and his reaction was so negative I just extrapolated from there.”

Remus made a wry face and looked down at where his hand was playing with a fraying thread from the couch. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up there, but he’s got a lot of baggage from his parents, and it would be a powerful thing if he felt he could unload some of it.” He looked up at her, and she could see the depth of his caring for his friend reflected in the sorrow in his eyes. “He had a warped view of family dynamics even before Azkaban.”

“We’re his family now,” Elodie said. She had tried to say it with firm conviction, but she yawned halfway through. “Damnit. I meant to sound more badass there. Like a final line before a commercial break.”

“The funny thing here is I can’t tell which is a typical Elodieism and which is a product of pain medicine and sleep deprivation,” Remus chuckled.

Trust Fall and Diminished Seventh are here on Tumblr!

#love this game ty for the tag!! #hope i didn't bully you into it lmao #anthony bridgerton x oc #tony stark x oc #stephen strange x oc #remus lupin x oc x sirius black #raise your hand if you're surprised exile wasn't in there? yeah i'm obsessed whoops #ask delightfulness

[strifethedestroyer]

anyway i started playing ac brotherhood.

#assassin's creed #its really cool so far i like it #brotherhood spoilers ahead i know all of you have played it but im putting this here for unsuspecting eyes just in case! #i stopped at the part where we move in the studio into the sanctuary #i missed ezio sm #and also claudia footage!!!!!! when i get farther in the game i mayyy be able to write that claudia x courtesan reader for ayame #wow desmond's pronounciation of altair ibn-la'ahad.. 😭 #i forgot how bri'ish shaun is like goddamn #why are we casually brushing off the fact that DESMOND SWAM IN A SEWER. #also im starting to like lucy more?? i didnt like her in the other 2 games but she's growing on me #UNCLE MARIO'S DEATH MAKES ME SO SAD EZIO YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED THE POPE #anyway i finally saw cesare in action. im still gonna bully leo for liking his design but i may just be in denial becuase he's kinda.. #also cesare showed a gun and said that ezio's friend fashioned it for him. does that mean that leo betrayed it PLEASE tell me leo was #forced to do it I DONT WANT LEO TO BETRAY EZIO PLEASE

[sage-nebula]

i saw your tags u mentioned u didn't play sonic heroes. which sonic games have u played?

In order:

Sonic 1 (16 bit)

Sonic & Knuckles

Sonic 2

Sonic 3

Sonic 3 & Knuckles

Sonic R (PC)

Dr Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine

Sonic 3D Blast*

Sonic Adventure 2: Battle

Shadow the Hedgehog

Sonic Generations (console)

Sonic Colours

Sonic Mania

Sonic Forces

*I never actually finished 3D Blast for two reasons: 1.) it made me feel nauseous if I played it too long, and 2.) I literally could not figure out how to progress. I'd just run around the big 3D globe thing with flickies following me like ??? So I played it, but never got anywhere with it.

As you can see, once we left the Genesis era my access to Sonic games became somewhat spotty. But I have Frontiers pre-ordered for release day delivery, and since Ian Flynn is writing it, I'm super excited! I never read much of the Archie comics at all (I read one issue, I think, back in the 90s), but I've read everything IDW has put out so far and I've loved almost all of it, so I can't wait to see what Ian has in store for us in Frontiers.

#anonymous #my consumption of non-game Sonic media is even more spotty #the only animated series i've seen all the way through is SatAM and AoStH #i have read every single IDW Sonic comic that has come out so far but #i didn't read any of the Archie comics except for this one issue where Eggman put a mind-control chip in Sonic's brain #and made him beat up the Freedom Fighters (he was fine by the end of the issue) #and also that one stargazing issue with Sally and Nicole #i watched a few episodes of Boom but didn't keep up w/ it & I haven't seen Underground or X #and idk which comic series it is but some comic (Fleetway maybe? Sonic the comic? idk) has Sonic bullying Tails & that's a HARD no from me #so i haven't read that either. #i have seen both of the movies but idk if I'll watch the Knuckles series since I don't want to pay for Paramount+ #and also I'm too lazy to pirate things nowadays lmao #i guess this makes me a fake Sonic fan but you know what! idc! #i've loved Sonic almost as much as I've been alive even if I haven't consumed every bit of Sonic media #so that's all that matters to me. idc what others think #sth

[nekodani]

#bully #x men #x men cartoon #cartoon #bully game #you me and him

[somethingaboutvampires]

To the assholes in my office: I'm not 12, can't relate.

#de work #community seating no assigned desks right? been legit bullied out of 4 seats in 5 months #im the youngest person in here i think and most of these out of pocket ppl are in their 60s. i knew i hated gen x for a reason #so i took the largest desk in the area. in the back away from them. if it gets worse or a mirror of yesterday then im thinking of reporting #damn get a life we're not even in the same reporting tree. I got heated then i reminded myself some ppl don't grow out of middle school #not 12. can't relate #and in case you were like 'de how tf you get bullied out of a seat?' lmty. Seats 1&2: ppl assign themselves seats & you can't do #Shit ab it. Seat3: the b next to me loudly declared to her team that she didn't know who i was and wasn't comf sitting next to me #Instead of being a decent human and idk introducing herself to me she's just been weird af since. I left at lunch that day #To wrk from home. seat 4: I've been there a few months. there's a dude who uses this desk sometimes. i left a hello note in the cube #telling him he could use my tissues and whatever and introduced myself. he never wrote back. yest he tried to sit in the cube but #I was there. He didn't introduce himself or talk to me just made a deal ab having to sit behind that cube. then he & this other #dude who literally refuses to say hello or good morning back to me came in my cube and started talking ab what was on my screen #which was a meeting. rude af. not okay. at fucking all #I've complained to my mgr 3 times ab this shit but my team's in another state and they dgaf. Im in my 5th seat rn and just trying not #to care. My boss did say she's heard my office is clique-y. I've been told there's theft here. I'm just trying to get my check #i don't play these games

[gremlingottoosilly]

Can we get some Sugar Daddy König X Sugar Baby Bimbo!reader that actually is a little oblivious to the fact she is a sugar baby, "oh the colonel? He's just a fwb who likes to pay for dinner and buy me expensive gifts that's all, he's just like really nice"

Konig really doesn't know where to put his money. He bought a house, a car, and a collection of guns that already go over legal limits. He was thinking about buying a second house somewhere warm, but then he thinks about having to take care of that property too, and his head starts to hurt. He wants to put his money into something nice - he has investments, usually something that Hutch is telling him to invest too because he knows more about tech and crypto and other useless stuff. And the colonel still has a huge chunk of money lying around every month. He didn't even notice that he started to pay for your...everything, at first. Even when you were just friends, you were playing this perfect little game of him bringing you money and you never taking your wallet out of the bag. He likes to spoil you. Gifts, food, new clothes - he doesn't knows anything about clothing brands and expensive gadgets, but you start to chirp about wanting new heaphones or a brand of lip gloss that is sooo trendt eight now, and he likes to listen to you speak. Maybe he is playing his old-school fantasy of having a hot, popular girl actually talk to him instead of bullying and yelling. Maybe he is trying to compensate for his lack of female attention. Maybe he is trying to buy you. He knows that you aren't using him because, by god, your pretty little head is too empty to conjure such a scheme. You're always so surprised when he brings you gifts, and you thank him so cheerfully. Bouncing on his cock like a good girl, not because he is asking you to, but because you really just want to cheer him on. Sucking his cock and spreading that expensive lip gloss all over because he is such a cool dude, much better than your friend's boyfriends. Your friends are so jealous about you having such a great sugar daddy, but you don't even realize that Konig is one. Honestly, if you weren't the one initiating sex, he probably wouldn't even ask you to. He brings you gifts and pops a boner whenever you hug him, and then you get sad because he is lonely and rich and so so miserable, you'll just straddle his hips and ride him until you both see stars. He never asked you to have sex in exchange for gifts. You just...like to accept them. And you like sex. Konig simply likes you too.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala. 

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before. 

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts. 

You wished you were only a tourist. 

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time. 

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed. 

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you. 

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted. 

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman. 

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll. 

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket. 

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again. 

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways. 

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better. 

That was when you first saw him. 

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came. 

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark. 

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable. 

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head. 

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?” 

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words. 

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact. 

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering. 

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee. 

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long. 

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble. 

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that. 

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone. 

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different. 

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place. 

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms. 

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures. 

You were always kept on the ground floor. 

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED 

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress. 

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well. 

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp. 

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched. 

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain. 

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again. 

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing. 

There was someone….out there. 

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with. 

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen. 

A yell. 

A scream. 

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass. 

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still. 

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet. 

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence. 

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you. 

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.' 

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort. 

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls. 

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you. 

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct. 

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting. 

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English. 

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.” 

Military? Raid? 

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood. 

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise. 

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway. 

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull. 

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.” 

That certainly got the attention that was needed. 

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind. 

Home.

Did you even have one of those left? 

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it. 

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver. 

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over. 

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie. 

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light. 

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”  

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible. 

Blue-gray. 

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter. 

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock. 

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates. 

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it. 

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt. 

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?” 

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision. 

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would. 

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.” 

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?” 

Again, you shake your head. 

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch. 

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.  

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.” 

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street. 

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer. 

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree. 

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.” 

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward. 

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall. 

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you. 

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.” 

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more. 

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.” 

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears. 

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus. 

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment. 

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.” 

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you. 

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal. 

You can’t help but smile. 

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases. 

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door. 

It nearly made you cry. 

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly. 

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?” 

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?” 

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return. 

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way. 

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room. 

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning. 

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so? 

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it. 

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling. 

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it. 

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope. 

Tap-tap, tappity-tap. 

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood. 

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala. 

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving. 

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay. 

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva. 

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you. 

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings. 

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick. 

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it. 

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten. 

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation. 

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid. 

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself. 

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder. 

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain. 

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in. 

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open. 

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them. 

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks. 

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse. 

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.” 

 “Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck. 

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?” 

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns. 

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?” 

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock. 

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.” 

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?” 

You watch him before nodding tinily. 

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?” 

 Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly. 

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?” 

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin. 

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.” 

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs. 

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.” 

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet. 

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost. 

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked. 

You take a long, deep, breath. 

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course. 

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go. 

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on. 

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword. 

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat. 

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.” 

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer. 

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold. 

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head. 

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat. 

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable. 

Enigmatic. 

König’s reverential face is soft with care. 

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material. 

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17. 

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone. 

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses. 

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after. 

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you. 

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.” 

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope. 

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side. 

Live well. 

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness. 

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it. 

 ‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.” 

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.” 

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat. 

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them. 

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry. 

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device. 

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering. 

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact. 

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women. 

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?” 

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

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