#cbfs

[shotmrmiller]

tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

-

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

-

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who specifically always demands his managers to reserve a spot for you at every single one of his games.

you always go to support him, with him insisting he needs you there as some sort of “lucky charm” (he won’t actually admit he thinks those superstitions are bullshit), so imagine his shock when he finds out that your seat is empty on the day of one of the most important games of the season—the game that will decide who gets to compete in the german cup.

it’s ten minutes before the game starts and despite his coach’s pep talk to the team, all kaiser can focus on is your empty seat and the absolute betrayal you’ve bestowed upon him, your supposed “best friend.”

he hasn’t realized it—nor will he admit it if he ever were to come to such an epiphany—stubborn as he is, but the reason as to why he does so well in games that you’re present at is because of the fact it gives him more motivation to win and impress you rather than just solely being dependent on the faces of despair from his opponents. a unique sort of euphoria that he gets whenever he can spot you jumping up and down in your seat with his number #10 jersey on, that your praise belongs to him and him only.

so when he steps out on to the field and sees that your seat is still collecting dust, he seethes silently to himself, gritting his teeth, pissed that he even called you his best friend to begin with. because what sort of friend doesn’t show up to one of the most important games in germany’s football?!

he’s still planning to win, of course. he’s michael kaiser—he’s famous for doing so. and he plans to use all his rage that you’ve caused to do so, just in spite of you.

because he’s michael kaiser, number ten of bastard mündchen. he doesn’t need your help. he never did.

(see, what he doesn’t know is that you’re simply home sick with a cold and that you’re still dressed in his jersey, just also with a sweater and bundles of blankets on top to stay warm, but regardless, you’re still watching and cheering him on from behind the tv screen. you’ve sent him some texts and voicemails telling him so, but none have received a reply back yet and you can only imagine what this drama queen has in store for you once he wins the match.)

[machveil]

ChildhoodBestFriend!König that holds your hand when you’re out and about. it started when you both met as children, he was a little too big compared to his other classmates, a little nervous to talk to his peers. you had come up to him, the new kid at school, and smiled. you tried talking to him, showed him the cool bandaid on your elbow from you tripped the night before. König had been too shy to meet your gaze, so you sat down next to him and took his hand in your small one

CBF!König that became friends you from then on. it took a while before he spoke to you, you’d only really hear him talk to teachers and school staff. it was okay though, you’d hold his hand to and from classrooms, sitting on the playground, on the way home. it didn’t stop when you got to high school, the only thing that changed was how he’d talk to you in depth about the military and wars in your history books. you held his hand all the way up until he volunteered for service - only letting go to hug him before he left

CBF!König who holds your hand when you see each other. comfortable, like nothing ever changed. he likes the weight of your hand in his, letting his thumb drift to your pulse - you’re alive, you’re here. he’ll squeeze your hand when a loud noise startles him, pulling you to his chest when he hears a car backfire, shielding you from what he registers as an explosion. he’ll absently bring your hand up to his chest, resting it over his heart while you watch tv together in your pajamas

CBF!König that always hesitates to let go. it’s silly sometimes - parting ways when you say you need to go to the bathroom, pulling your hand away so you can open a window. he still sees you, you’re physically here with him, but holding on to you eases his nerves. as long as he’s holding your hand he knows you’re okay, that he’s okay too. König hesitates to let go of your hand when he has to go back to base. he knows he should go, beat the traffic while he can, but five more minutes won’t hurt, Liebling

[fawntastic]

Why do they call them the nine houses when there are only eight of them? Are they stupid? (Face paint alt for the 9th I didn’t like as much below the cut)

[melancholyangel333]

everytime i want a bf i just remember that i actually have to talk to him

[moongreenlight]

Childhood best friend!Gaz

Who you had the biggest crush on growing up.

Who always bitched about not being able to take girls from school on dates because they all thought the two of you were an item.

Who gave you all of his jerseys to wear to his sporting events and made you swear to come to every single one. Insisted you were his good luck charm- even if he lost. “Can’t expect me to play well when I’ve got such a good looking cheerleader to focus on.”

Who took you to formal and took your virginity in the same night. You still have the corsage he gave you tucked away somewhere in a sentimental shoebox in the corner of your closet.

Who is always your date to weddings. So frequently so that people have started addressing the envelopes to the both of you.

Who calls you at least once a week to catch up and chat, even after moving away from home and joining the service.

Who sometimes whines his way into a video call with you. Both of you in darkened rooms, trying to mumble your way through a rushed rendition of phone sex when he’s got fifteen minutes to himself on a mission. Moaning about how he can’t be fucked to sift through a porn website. “C’mon, darl. Call it a favor. Nobody can see. Don’t even have to talk. Please, darl.”

Who still comes back home when he’s got enough time off the base.

Who insists you come stay at your parents when he’s at his.

Who still sneaks over in the middle of the night to watch movies like he did in high school even though you’re both far too grown. Still sneaks in through the small window in the basement despite fully being allowed in through the front.

Who practically moves his shit into your flat every time he’s got a week or two off of work.

“Jus’ a few weeks, darl. Won’t even know I’m here.”

You’ve stopped protesting at this point, but he still likes to make a scene about it when you make a sarcastic snark about his commandeering the entire living room.

“Couch is a bit cramped, though. Could let me sleep in the bed. We can play house like we used to, yeah? Mums and dads are s’posed to sleep together. Mums and dads are s’posed to do loads of things together.”

[gooseinsoup]

save me nanny ashtoreth.... save me

saw this dress on instagram and then the worms in my brain took over :D

if anyone has a dress theyd like to suggest to see a femziraphale in... send it thru my askbox or dms cause im on the hunt too :3

[silver-tongued-deovel]

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Just getting back into writing, so warning: potentially ooc Ghost.

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- cbf! Simon, who reaches out to an old acquaintance to send his first paycheck to you. He has the barracks and mess hall and knows you have no such comforts.

- cbf! Simon, who finds you left town as soon as you turned 18 from said acquaintance.

-cbf! Simon, who can't seem to track you down no matter how hard he tries. It's just like you disappeared. He can't even find any semblance of an internet presence.

-cbf! Simon, who lets it haunt him. The memories of your friendship and the absence of knowledge regarding your current life pop into his head at the worst times.

- cbf! Simon, who believes he's cursed. That he'll lose everyone he loves.

-cbf! Simon, who eventually accepts that he'll never have a bond like the two of you shared. Sure, he has his teammates. But they don't care for each other the same way you two did.

-cbf! Simon, who eventually learns to live with your absence. He even befriends his other teammates and (eventually) the tf141.

-cbf! Simon, who sees a girl eerily similar to what he imagined you'd look like, all grown up while out celebrating a successful mission with the task force.

-cbf! Simon, with a concerned Johnny, asking if he's okay as he stares at the girl with glazed over eyes.

-cbf! Simon, who hears your laugh, coming from the girls mouth. He immediately stands up to push Johnny away and head towards the bar.

-cbf! Simon, who approaches you with Johnny hot on his heels.

-cbf! Simon, who sees the confused look in your eyes as he approaches you and feels an ache in his chest.

-cbf! Simon, who has to make sure it's you. He calls out your name, and there's recognition on your face. Towards the name, not him.

-cbf! Simon, who's crushed when you ask, "Do I know you?" As if seeing the hurt in his eyes, you add, "Sorry. Can't really recognize you with the mask on mate."

-cbf! Simon, who doesn't think twice before ripping his balaclava. He thinks he hears a gasp come from Johnny. But all that matters is the look in your eyes.

-cbf! Simon, who almost collapses as he hears you mumble, "Simon?"

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If this does well, I'd like to make it into a short fic:)

Thoughts would be appreciated.

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

being besties with Soap (x)

[diejager]

It got deleted again 😂

Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.

He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.

Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.

Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.

He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.

You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.

“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”

[shotmrmiller]

y'all know the ghostface mori from dbd?

that's how cbf!simon takes a picture with you during sex on your own phone to send to your ex.

this wasn't supposed to be smut, but it is now. so. oh well.

cbf!simon had met him before, obviously, and didn't even acknowledge his existence the first time— only spoke to you, with his large body shielding you from your then-boyfriend. he was a worthless slip of a boy who walked around unawares with you in his arm, sat with his back toward any entrance and he even let you walk on the edge of the sidewalk.

unacceptable.

the only reason his face hadn't ended up on a milk carton was because when simon questioned your relationship with him, you swore that it had only been dates, and pecks on the cheek.

regardless, when he watched you get ready for a movie date night, simon decided that enough was enough.

he started coming around more, goading your boyfriend while still not addressing him.

"love, you got one of my old shirts around here somewhere?"

"pet, you remember that one lake i took you to and camped overnight? heard it's drying up, that true?"

it's comical if it wasn't just so fucking pathetic how your boyfriend just took it, like some sort of cuck. if it had been simon, he would've ended up on the stretcher in the very first meeting.

and then it clicked.

it should be him, not this meritless imbecile.

so, while he was waiting for you in the living room to take you out for dinner, the very first sentence that your boyfriend hears from simon is, 'ya wanna know why she's not sleepin' with ya? cuz i'm the one fuckin' her every night. sorry, pal.'

simon had been sitting on the couch, legs manspread, and his arms stretched out, lax, on the backrest when he said it.

the very definition of unbothered.

when you come out in your pretty burgundy button up, and tight black pants, simon was very glad that he ran that fool out the door— he doesn't deserve you.

you get a 'this is over' text in minutes, and simon tells you that he wasn't good enough for you anyway. just get comfortable, wear his shirt you love to sleep in, and put on a movie— he'll be back with a couple bottles of wine.

2 and a half bottles of wine later, and you find yourself under him, his tongue entangled with yours as he bullies his fat cock into you for the first time ever.

simon coos into your ear when you hiss at the pain of the stretch, whispering that you can take him because you and him are meant to be.

"it won't hurt the next time we do this, pet."

your mind is warm and fuzzy with the alcohol that courses through your system, and it gives you courage to ask, "promise?"

simon finally bottoms out, and your mind goes blank at the feel of him hitting a spot inside of you that no one's ever reached before.

"i promise. for you, anything. i swear it." he's babbling, but he doesn't care because you're finally his, and if he has any say in the matter, you'll only be his.

your pretty pussy will only ever know him.

he starts to move, long, slow thrusts, and the burning sting starts to melt into a toe-curling pleasure at the edges, and the liquid fire that started in your belly starts to spread through your veins— a scalding ecstasy burning you from the inside out.

you try to wrap your legs around his waist, but he's too wide, built like a tank— so you give up, and plant your feet down, opting to meet his hips with yours. the flared head of his cock rubs so deliciously against this one spot inside of you, and your vision begins to spot as your belly tightens, muscles tensing for what's to come—

when simon pulls out roughly, and a sob escapes your lips. you were so close, god, why is he being so mean to you?

simon lets out a pained grunt as his cock twitches and slaps the side of your thigh with his heavy hand, chuckling.

"i know you were, love, i swear i'm not trying to be mean, i almost just came in this sweet cunt. i'm not done with you just yet. turn around, on your knees."

your reaction is visceral, and you flip over so fast your stomach churns. you lower your head until the carpet is digging into the soft skin of your cheek, and sensually arch your back.

presenting yourself to him, your glistening, swollen pussy begging to be filled.

"'s tha' wha' ya want, love? hm? f'me to stuff ya full of my cock? beg me, then. beg me like the pretty slut you are— to fuck ya the only way i can. only me and no one else."

the words spill from your lips like water does a faucet, slurred with pleasure. "please fuck me, si, fill me with your cum, i promise i'm a slut jus' f'you, only you can fuck me the way i need, i swear i'm yours, only yours."

something in simon snaps when he hears you profess how you're only his. he sinks to the hilt in one smooth stroke, bends his left leg to deepen his angle and fucks.

you don't even try to stop the sounds that come from your mouth, too far gone, cock drunk. every thrust of his hips punches the air from your lungs, and your arousal is renewed with fervor, this time painfully so. it hurts, how bad you want to come, you just need a little more, a little—

"y'wanna come around me? lemme feel you then." simon's hand curls around your waist and his fingers start to draw cruel, tight, precise circles on your neglected clit, and your climax slams into you so hard, you might just start crying from the relief.

"thaaaa's it, pet. cream all over me with tha' tight cunt o'yours."

simon doesn't stop rubbing your bud, nor does he stop thrusting into you, dragging out your pleasure, almost to the point of oversensitivity.

"'m not pullin' out, y'hear? you're mine now. and i'm gonna cum inside what's mine, clear?"

you dumbly nod, bobbing your head up against the rough carpet, and he picks up the pace, his hips slamming into your hips, jarring your spine.

he finally comes in you with a growl, spurting thick ropes of hot seed onto the entrance of your womb.

your body is limp under his, and while still inside of you, he languidly reaches to the side for your phone. he knows the code for it too, and when he unlocks it, smirks at your background photo.

it's a selfie of you and him— you are posing with two fingers by your face, and simon's arms around your shoulders.

he finds the camera icon and opens it.

it's time that idiot knew you were simon's too.

simon leans forward, his front to your back, and pulls your head up by your tangled, sweaty hair with one hand, and holds the phone with the other directly in front of your face.

"say cheese, pet."

the bright flash of the front camera goes off, and then asks you what that dumbass' name was.

he snarls when you say it, but quickly finds it in your contacts and types a quick message.

'delete this fucking number. if i ever see you around here again, i'll kill you.'

then simon presses send. and then he also sends that picture to his own phone. that fucked stupid look on your face is something he needs as his screensaver.

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[machveil]

ChildhoodBestFriend!König that hasn’t seen you in years. you’ve kept in contact with each other, but not seeing him physically since he enlisted was still a bummer. he’s taken leave to visit his hometown, his mama and father - his siblings if they’re there, but you’ve always just missed each other

CBF!König that finally, finally, coordinates with you to physically meet up! he’s sorry it took so long, Schatz, but he’s excited to see you! you both decided it’d be easier for you to fly to him, well— after König insisted on paying for your flight. he’s already at the airport waiting for you, an hour early in case your flight magically comes in. he’s ditched his sniper hood for a simple, black medical mask. instead of an old t-shirt covering his copper hair, König’s wearing an old baseball cap

CBF!König that, when he sees you, chuckles when you don’t immediately recognize him. he sees you pulling out your phone and smiles to himself when he gets your text. ‘where are you?’, and he can’t help but snap a photo of you in the distance, sending it to you with a simple ‘around’. he nearly belly laughs when he locks eyes with your wide ones - he might have failed to mention how tall he had grown since his teenage years

CBF!König that scoops you up when you rush over. he’s lifting you off the ground for a bear hug, masked face pressed your neck as he closes his eyes. you’re still how he remembers, that same charming smile, that same awe struck gaze when you look up at him. you’ll stay with him, cozy in his apartment, hand in hand while you catch up on his couch. and, while you’re smiling and laughing, König hopes that, just maybe, he could convince you to stay. he doesn’t know if he can let you go again, to not have you around to make his heart beat faster

[karvviie]

it’s a girl thing

[lustjunkiie]

thinking about cbf!simon who is best friends with your parents. him and your mom sassily side-eye your new boyfriend, and he always calls your dad to complain about the new development in british politics (“damn tories”). he proposed to you in grade school and he’s still trying to hold true to being your husband but your silly little boyfriend is getting in the way! :( good thing you two break up and you find yourself crying in simon’s flat, and he makes you a bowl of ice cream while happily texting your mom.

[lordfries]

early flynn os tron my beloved