Johnny was supposed to be home yesterday. It's fine. He must be caught up with a debriefing or paperwork. Usually, he'll text you if he's going to be late coming back from deployment, but you're sure that everything's okay.
You've been trying to busy yourself by tidying up around the house. You've vacuumed, watered your plants, straightened the couch cushions, remade the bed, and dusted.
You even started baking. You were making chocolate chip cookies (with extra chocolate chips) for when Johnny got home. You set aside some of the dough, salmonella be dammed, you and Johnny both love eating raw cookie dough.
There's a firm knock on your front door. Odd. Johnny doesn't usually knock... he just walks right in. Your heart stops when you open your front door.
It's not Johnny. It's never going to be Johnny. He's not coming home.
The Captain's holding Johnny's dog tags and his sketchbook. You're not sure who, but someone catches you before you hit the ground. You're guided to your couch.
Captain Price informs you that Johnny's already been cremated because of the state his body was in. It sounds like you're underwater. You barely even realize that you're crying.
Lieutenant Riley tells you that Johnny didn't feel any pain, that his death was instant. You don't care. He's dead. Johnny's dead. You want him back.
The funeral is unbearable. You're surrounded by Johnny's massive, grieving family. You can't even look his mother in the eye. You can't look anyone in the eye.
Men in their dress blues keep coming up to you, offering their condolences, telling you that Johnny was a hero, that he died keeping the peace.
You're presented with the flag of the United Kingdom by some General whose jacket is adorned with medals he probably didn't earn. You lost the man you love. All you get in return is a fucking flag.
— Figured I may as well touch this one up a bit & post it finally, alongside the other touched up piece. Both were done because I was inspired by my partner through our babbles & rps over the past few months. I adore these two because of them 💕
König had been excited to take you ever since you agreed. Christmas itself wasn’t too important to him, but visiting the German Christmas market he visited almost every year since childhood was. It had everything– music, lights, food, entertainment, and the particular one he liked had a skating rink in the middle.
When you originally told him you had no clue what a ‘Christmas market’ was, especially a German one, König was almost personally offended. He squeaked something in German, most certainly calling you something along the lines of being uncultured before he insisted you went with him the next time the markets were set up.
You had forgotten about agreeing to it until winter rolled around, and it was all König spoke about. There was an unspoken understanding that you didn’t have anywhere else to be on Christmas due to your… complicated family situation. König didn’t question you, nor did he judge you. If anything he was happy he could share something he saw as personal. __
“Sie werden es lieben,” He gleamed as he climbed out of the car. He walked beside you, leading down the concrete sidewalk toward the center of town. König was practically buzzing with excitement. Finally, the two of you turned a corner and the Christmas market came into view.
The German-architectured business buildings were decorated with large, intricately placed holiday lights, casting a warm, bright glow over the different booths circling a large ice rink. The booths had different types of holiday foods, drinks, and entertainment similar to a fairground except everything was lined with beautiful, bright Christmas lights. There was a large population of people, all with their own families, passing booths, sharing drinks, and holding hands while skating around the open ice rink.
“What do you want to do first?” König asked you, eyes twinkling from the bright Christmas lights as he gleamed down at you.
"Everything," you replied with a laugh, taking in the stunning view of the market. The sight was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you couldn’t deny that König’s excitement was contagious.
König grinned under his scarf, his eyes crinkling with joy. “Gut! Let’s start with something sweet,” he suggested, guiding you to a booth selling Lebkuchen, the traditional gingerbread cookies decorated with colorful icing. He handed you one shaped like a heart with the words Frohe Weihnachten carefully piped on top.
“Taste it,” he urged, watching your expression closely as you took a bite. The spice and sweetness melted on your tongue, and you couldn’t help the little noise of delight you made.
“It’s amazing!” you said, and König practically puffed up with pride. “They make them fresh here,” he explained, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “When I was a boy, my mother would buy me one, and I wasn’t allowed to eat it until we got home. Now, you get to enjoy it right away.”
You smiled at the story, warmth blooming in your chest. “Well, thank you for breaking your tradition for me.”
König laughed softly. “For you, it’s worth it.”
The two of you wandered from booth to booth, trying roasted chestnuts, sipping Glühwein—a warm, spiced wine that heated you from the inside out—and marveling at the intricate handmade ornaments and trinkets on display. König insisted on buying you a small wooden nutcracker, painted in vibrant colors, as a keepsake.
“You have to keep this,” he said, handing it to you after paying. “Every time you see it, you’ll remember tonight.”
“Like I could forget,” you replied, slipping the nutcracker into your bag.
As the evening went on, König kept stealing glances at you, clearly reveling in your enjoyment of something so dear to him. He seemed particularly proud as he led you toward the skating rink. “Do you skate?” he asked.
You hesitated. “Not really… it’s been years since I’ve even tried.”
“Perfect!” he said, already lacing up a pair of skates for himself. “Then I’ll teach you.”
The two of you stepped onto the ice, your movements wobbly and uncertain compared to König’s steady, practiced strides. He took your hands in his much larger ones, steadying you as he guided you slowly around the rink. You stumbled a few times, but König was always there to catch you, laughing softly and offering words of encouragement in German and English.
By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and your heart felt light in a way it hadn’t in years. As you stood by the edge of the rink, watching the lights twinkle above, König leaned down slightly, his voice low and gentle.
“Danke,” he said. “For coming with me. It means more than I can say.”
You turned to him, your breath visible in the cold air. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s… perfect.”
König’s eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the bustling market around you faded away. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wrapped box. “Frohe Weihnachten,” he said, handing it to you shyly. “I got this for you.”
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a single charm shaped like a snowflake. You stared at it, touched beyond words.
“König, it’s beautiful.”
“It reminded me of you,” he said softly, his voice almost shy. “Unique and… special.”
You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, the charm catching the light as you smiled up at him. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
And as König beamed down at you, his eyes shining with warmth and something deeper, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.
"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus."
"What does that mean?"
"Love is rich with both honey and venom."
"I suppose that is true."
Or which in König finds you broken in the mountains. A (brief) retelling of Cupid and Psyche.
König | Reader
tags: no tw for this chapter, eventual smut, eventual death, idk yet
request a fic here | buy me a coffee so I don't have to work overtime and can write more
a/n: we will not delve into the full cupid psyche story this month. this is just part 1. the rest will come later.
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3
The days pass slowly. You rotate through reorganizing and cleaning König's house, hands searching for something to keep them busy and from worrying about where your fiance could be and running errands for Oma. On the tenth day, it finally happens. You're trying to figure out what to cook yourself for dinner when a knock on the door startles you.
The policeman, the same one König spoke to just eleven days earlier, waits for you outside, hat held tightly in his hand. He doesn't look you in the eye. Beside him is another man, one you've never seen before. When this new man speaks, his English is quick a hint of a British accent behind his Austrian one.
"I am so sorry ma'am."
They help you up from the ground; you don't remember falling, but you know that his words have taken everything out of you. They help you settle into the chair by the fireplace before the man starts speaking again.
"I know this is difficult, but we do need to…ask you some questions."
You barely hear them, as they ask about the hiking trip, about your fiance's job, about how you got separated from the group that day. It isn't until the questions are over, that your brain starts to move again, and starts to ask questions again.
"Where is his body? Can I see it?"
The policeman who is speaking English shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and whispers something to the second policeman before speaking again; this time he can't look you in the eye.
"I am sorry, miss. But his body was taken by the United States government. We told them about you and how you were here with him, but," he pauses, clears his throat, "we were told you didn't have permission to be with him on his trip to Austria and that the government has no need to get you back home because you shouldn't be here."
For the second time, the floor falls out from beneath you.
When König arrives back home the next day, he finds you on the couch. You're wrapped in a blanket and fixated on the empty fireplace. He doesn't speak to you, doesn't even acknowledge you on his way past.
The shower kicks on from down the hallway; the sound grates on your nerves and you curl in tighter to yourself. When König arrives back into the living room he brings the scent of cedar wood and clary sage and underneath it a scent of something heavier and iron-tinged. You can feel his eyes on you, boring into you but he doesn't speak. Instead, he goes to the kitchen and starts banging around, pots slamming onto the stove and the sound of the gas clicking to life.
He doesn't speak to you until he sets down a bowl on the floor in front of you, the scene of garlic and tomatoes pulling you from the cocoon of blankets.
"I have heard what the police said, and I am sorry Taube. "
At his words, you start crying again - you can see the panic behind König's eyes and he presses himself into the chair, trying to get as far away from you as possible. You finally catch your breath enough to choke out what's been eating at you for the last 10 days.
"König I'm a terrible person."
" Nein, Taube . Why do you say that?"
Everything that has been bubbling inside you since you woke in Oma's house finally breaks through, and you sob between your words.
"I'm horrible König, I didn't even care that he was lost in the mountain - I just wanted to go home. And now I can't, now I'm stuck here the government didn't even care they just left me here. And now I will never get home; it's my punishment for not caring about him."
When König speaks to you, it's quiet, calculated.
"Why did you not care about him? He was your fiance?"
You press your hands to your face, trying not to puke all over König.
"I was only marrying him because I didn't know what else to do. He asked and I said yes, I thought it was what people just did. I thought I could love him, but I couldn't make myself feel it. And now he is dead, and all I feel is grateful that you found me and that I'm able to live."
You're hyperventilating, you can't breathe. Your hands press painfully into your face, trying to push the thoughts away from you. A pair of large hands wrap around your wrist, and König pries your hands away from your face slowly. He's knelt down in front of the couch, eyes trained on yours.
"You are not terrible, Taube. Trust me when I say this. I know you are upset you cannot go home right now, but you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I know it has been nice for Oma to have you around when I was gone."
This makes you cry worse, and the crushing feeling of being a burden grows around you.
"Hush, Taube. I will take care of you."
You let him wrap the blanket back around you, and let him use the corner to wipe your face clean. He presses the bowl of food, spaghetti with so much cheese on top it's nearly ridiculous before he leaves you again to start the fire and warm the room up.
You don't know how long it takes you to calm down, but your heart feels lighter, finally admitting the horrible thoughts you'd been having for months.
The relationship had started innocently at first; you'd met your fiance at work. You did IT work for a banking company and he was a customer who had accidentally wandered into the wrong part of the bank. It had been a whirlwind, him sweeping you away and convincing you to quit your job and move with him. The entire relationship had been rocky, but you had no way of knowing how to leave, and when he finally asked you to marry him you didn't know how to say no. There had been the worry that if you did, you would have nowhere to go - you didn't even know where your dad was asking him to come to get you (not that he would, but it had always been a hope). And then there had been dress fittings, and cake tasting. Finally, the trip to Austria, a honeymoon before the wedding because your fiance would be gone for work the day after your wedding.
To finally admit to someone how you felt was liberating, even if it did make you feel like a horrible person.
You don't know how long you sit there before you finally manage to eat. The pasta is cold, but the sauce is still amazing. König sits in the chair, eyes boring holes into the wall before turning towards you.
"You've never said, how you speak Polish."
You stir the leftover sauce in the bowl around as you think back.
"My grandfather was from Poland. He immigrated to the United States after the Nazis started taking over. His father sent him to the United States alone, he was really young too. Anyway, he lived in the United States for the rest of his life. My mom died when I was born, and my dad left me on his doorstep before I could even cry for help. So my grandfather raised me. We only spoke Polish at his house."
"And he is dead now, no?"
"Yeah. He died when I was in college. He owned an orange grove and, I didn't know this, but he was selling off parts of it to send me to college. So when he got sick, there was no money to pay for his treatment and no land to sell for it either."
"I am so sorry, Taube. "
You set the bowl down beside you, changing the conversation to something that isn't eating you from the inside out.
"What does that mean? Taube ?"
König shifts in his seat, slouching down so that his legs are spread out in front of him and his head can rest on the back.
"It is just a polite word for a young woman."
"But-"
"Enough, Taube. "
The weeks at König's pass by easily. You find yourself slipping into a comfortable pattern, the two of you rotating around each other like planets caught in each other's orbit. When König is gone, you figure out how to entertain yourself: helping Oma take care of herself, developing your film in the dark room König set up for you, and selling the prints of the local scenery in one of the local cafes.
When König finds you after his last work assignment, you're in the dark room, developing your recent prints. You don't speak as he folds into the room and presses against the doorway.
"You know König I don't have a disease. You don't have to keep yourself so far away from me."
He doesn't speak to you as you clip your next print to dry, solution dripping down your fingers. You're taken back to that day in the mountain when the rain fell onto your skin, and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself against the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to break through. You turn your attention to König to distract yourself.
"Are you going to speak, or are you going to stay there staring at me menacingly?"
"I am not staring menacingly."
"You wear a mask König; you are the definition of menacing."
König grumbles but doesn't say anything to refute you. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you turn to stare at him, hip cocked against a table to mimic his pose. König shuffles his feet, eyes turned down at the floor. His hands are behind his back; his forearms are tight.
"König what is wrong?"
"I was," his voice catches, "I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner tonight so that we did not have to cook."
His voice is cracked, lilted in a way you haven't heard before. You frown at him, trying to figure out what is wrong. In a second, his demeanor changes; he shrinks in on himself and gives you a curt nod.
"I will leave you alone then."
He's out the door before you're able to catch up to him, hand wrapping around his elbow to stop him. His eyes crinkle on the edges when he looks down at you, and you know he's frowning beneath the mask. His muscles are rope tense beneath your hand; you realize with a skip of your heartbeat that this is the first time you've ever touched him.
"What's up with you? Of course, I want to go out with you."
The muscles under your hand relax incrementally and you expect König to step away from you like he always does. But he leans just an inch closer when he speaks.
I just love the idea of Gekko's creatures feeling, that there is something between Y/n and him, and them wanting to have your attention, help you or protect you... my heart. God.
The moment you defused the spike, you finally could let go. Your head felt dizzy, you could feel the gunshot wound burn on your thigh. The team would be there soon, so you sat under the wall, putting pressure on the wound, waiting for some help. Suddenly though, everything started to fade black.
Your eyes opened the moment you felt something poking your thigh, making weird noices. You've noticed it was Gekko's Wingamn.
"H-hey buddy, what are you doing there?" You murmured quietly. This little creature immidiately jumped closer to you, as it heard your voice. He was scratching your chest, as if he was trying to keep you awake.
It wasn't long after that when you've heard Gekko's voice. "Oye! Wingman, found something?" And when he noticed Wingman and you under the wall, he immidiately ran straight to you.
"I got you, it's okay..." He kneeled before you, scanning your whole body. You smiled at him, patting Wingman on it's head. "I'll be fine!"
There was a bit of worry in Gekko's eyes, but he could tell that you'll be fine. He hated to see you in pain, and seeing you there sitting, barely conscious, felt like hell. You were so important to him, he would do anything to have you safe and unharmed all the time. He only didn't know how to say it.
"Come on, let's go patch you up" He said, reaching his hand to you, and you grabbed it. When you stood up though, you faltered forwards, but Gekko has cought you in his arms.
"Easy... easy..." He said. Wingman of course tried to help you stand, by grabbing your ankle. It didn't support you at all, but the view of him trying his best was so adorable"
"Awww" You started, looking at Wingman "He's never done that before, what happened?"
At this question Gekko's face turned a little red. He knew that the creatures could feel his emotions and react to them. They perfectly understood who you were to Gekko, and wanted to support you as they support him.
"Brbrbrb?" It was Dizzy, who showed up behind Gekko's arm.
"She'll be fine guys!" He explained, grabbed you from under your knees to have you on his hands, making sure he avoided any hurt areas. "God, I thought you won't be this heavy."
"Oh, excuse me? I thought you wouldn't be that strong" You teased him.
"Brbbrrbrt?"
"Yes Dizzy!" You both answered, which made both of you giggle. Suddenly though your head felt heavy again, and you didn't even notice making a quiet groan.
"Hey-hey, stay with me there alright? Let's go." Gekko then took you to the rest of the team, where you could get the help you needed from Sage. He held you tight, and you wondered, how come you've never been in his arms before.
Girls need to shoplift regularly because our brains are optimized for foraging and when we're denied the chance to engage our natural impulses it triggers a stress behavior known as girlblogging
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