kshgehdj

[kshgehdj]

An archangel in love acts strange.

Gabriel ULTRAKILL x reader.

Warning: Gabriel acting a bit strange with a sleeping reader

English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.

To do this, I had to use the translator.

The door shut with a dull thud behind you; more from the weight of your exhausted body than any real intention.

The day had been complete chaos. One of those days where fatigue clings to your bones and every thought narrows down to "I just want to sleep."

There was no dinner, no shower—you didn’t even bother to change out of the clothes you’d worn all day. You simply dragged your feet across the floor, dropping your things in the first empty corner of your room.

Your bag landed on the ground, your coat half-hanging from the back of a chair. Even taking your shoes off seemed like too much work; they remained awkwardly halfway removed.

You collapsed onto your bed, crumpling the blankets beneath you. You didn’t bother to move them to cover yourself properly—you simply lay there, sprawled across your soft mattress.

And as your breathing grew slower and deeper, sleep began to wrap around you with its warm, quiet embrace.

The silence in the room was thick but comforting, broken only by the faint hum of household electronics and the distant murmur of the city.

You barely stirred, already drifting into the world of dreams, hugging a pillow far too big for your body.

And it was in that moment—between the small, vulnerable space that existed between your dreams and your silent room—that the atmosphere changed drastically.

A glowing shadow took form in the doorway, barely touching the ground, until a full figure emerged.

Gabriel was there.

Standing at the edge of your bed.

Watching you.

A soft glow bathed the room, cast by Gabriel’s halo and his blue wings, gently caressing the walls, the floor, and the face of the one he couldn’t stop looking at.

The slow but steady rhythm of your breathing caused your chest to rise and fall.

The faint furrow in your brow, as if even in your dreams you still had things to do.

A rebellious strand of hair falling across your face, brushing the corner of your lips…

You were…

Human.

So imperfect, so fragile—and yet, something about you had ensnared him from the very moment his eyes first met yours. He couldn’t recall the context, or the excuse, but he remembered how everything around him had blurred the moment he saw you, how his heart began to beat erratically and his breath caught in his throat.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be watching you sleep like you were some kind of hidden miracle.

It made no sense.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

Not for a being so… fleeting.

But he couldn’t help it.

His gaze traced every line of your face, every unconscious movement you made, as if trying to memorize you—fearing that if he looked away, even for a second, you might cease to exist.

"What is this that consumes me? This longing that stirs within me with no reason, no logic?"

I have faced and slain thousands—those who dared defy the word of the Holy Council.I am the righteous Hand of the Father, the Will of God...So why do I falter now at the sound of a mortal's peaceful breathing?

Gabriel's brow furrowed slightly as he continued watching you from the edge of your bed.

Why you?Why do you ensnare me so effortlessly, without a word, without even looking at me?What power lies within you that even I—anointed in the Father's Grace—cannot resist?

He moved, taking a slow step forward, careful not to make the floor creak beneath his weight and reveal his presence.

The soft light of his halo illuminated your face as he leaned slightly over your sleeping form, eventually lowering himself to one knee beside your bed.

A trembling sigh escaped his throat.

"Why did the Father make them so small?" he muttered to himself, the words more of a breath than a question.

From this new angle, he could see you more clearly—details hidden by distance and the shadows of night now came into view.

The faint circles beneath your eyes.The slow, gentle rise and fall of your chest with every breath.

His gaze dropped lower… to your slightly parted lips.

His breath hitched, a shiver running through him.

His hand—that hand which had wielded a sword with unwavering conviction countless times—now rose to brush his trembling thumb across your lips.

A fleeting touch.

Delicate.

Unnecessary, yet utterly irresistible.

His wings twitched behind him, a restrained movement that betrayed the turmoil within him.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew he shouldn’t.

He knew it all too well—

SNORE.

A sudden, raspy snore shattered his moment of reverie like a bell crashing to the floor.

Gabriel flinched, jerking back with a sudden, sharp sound as he moved too quickly; one of his wings even struck one of your shelves.

He froze on the spot.

Holding his breath, watching your sleeping face for any sign of movement.

Moments passed, each one endless for Gabriel, but you didn’t move. To his immense relief

He finally exhaled, the breath shaky and quiet. Still on one knee, he could feel his heart—or whatever was closest to one in him—pounding beneath his armor. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension giving way to a quiet, flustered surrender.

The blush on his cheeks, however, remained.

And so did the aching flutter in his chest.

He didn’t dare speak.

He simply looked at you for a few seconds longer, as if your very existence were a sweet kind of damnation.

And he knew.

He had to leave.

Now.

Before he did something else foolish.

But a sudden movement froze him in place again.

He watched as you shifted under your blankets, your brow furrowing slightly; a shiver ran down his spine.

Without fully opening your eyes, you rolled over, still half-asleep.

The cold air seeping in from the open window had stirred you awake.

With dragging steps, you got up and made your way toward the window to shut out the night breeze.

Your movements were sluggish, driven more by instinct than awareness.

By the time you reached it, Gabriel was already gone.He wouldn’t let a mere mortal see him in such a state.

Just as you were about to return to your bed, you noticed something you weren’t expecting to find.

There, resting beside your bed, was a long feather—faintly glowing with an ethereal shimmer.

Pale blue, with soft iridescent highlights that shifted subtly depending on the angle.

You bent down to pick it up, holding it between your fingers for a moment, examining it with a hint of confusion.

“Again...?” you murmured softly as you stood up.

“This is the fifth one this week.”

You turned slowly back toward your bed, but not before placing the feather on your nightstand—right next to the others.

Then you settled back into the warmth of your sheets, and with a soft yawn, let sleep take you once more.

[kshgehdj]

plush

English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.

To do this, I had to use the translator.

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V2, Gabriel, and V1 reacting to seeing you with plushies of them and giving more attention to their small, huggable versions than to the real ones.

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V2:

He was watching you from across the room, arms crossed and that mechanical eyelid furrowed. In your arms rested a soft—and damn adorable—version of him.

You were cradling it like some kind of treasure, pressing your cheek against its face while letting out quiet little giggles.

You had kissed it.

Three times.

He had counted.

V2 felt a crackling jolt of electricity run down his spine. It was annoyance, yes—but also a ridiculous sting of jealousy he never thought he’d feel toward a scrap of fabric and cheap stuffing. He had seen everything: how you sat them beside you while eating, how you tucked it into bed before going to sleep, how you gently stroked that… that crude imitation of himself.

He had protected you, saved you more times than you could count.And this was your way of repaying him?

Without saying a word, he crossed the room with determined steps. He looked you straight in the eyes, grabbed the plushie, and yanked it out of your arms. Before you could protest, he flung it somewhere across the room without a second thought.

Then, without wasting time, he threw himself at you, hugging you tightly and pressing his face against your neck—a possessive, almost theatrical gesture.

You didn’t need a copy when you had the original right there with you.And he wasn’t going to let you forget it.

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Gabriel:

At first, rather than jealous of the attention the plushie version of him was getting, Gabriel seemed fascinated—he even asked to see it up close.

You handed it to him without a second thought. He held it gently in both hands. His eyes studied every detail: the white and gold chestplate of his armor, the pauldrons, the loincloth... even his wings were there—small and fluffy.

His own wings fluttered slightly behind him, almost unconsciously.

Cute, chubby, and soft.

A part of him couldn’t help but find it… charming.

After a moment, he returned it to you carefully. That’s when he noticed how lovingly you hugged it, how your lips kissed the plushie’s face with affection.

Something stirred within him—subtle, but uncomfortable.

He didn’t quite understand it, but he didn’t like it.

It wasn’t jealousy—or at least, he wouldn’t admit it easily—but the way you looked at that tiny version of him was starting to bother him more than it should.

He said nothing; instead, he moved to sit beside you on the couch. He watched you in silence as you pressed the plushie to your chest, so distracted, so excited.

That’s when his hands slid gently around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap.

He heard you murmur his name, but he didn’t respond.

His arms wrapped around you completely—firm, warm—while his face rested softly against your shoulder.

The plushie ended up trapped between the two of you.

You were his. And no cloth replica could ever change that.

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V1:

Warning: Hostile target detected.

You didn’t even have to say anything—just holding that plush version of him was enough to trigger something inside V1.

And it wasn’t anything remotely cute.

He didn’t understand why that piece of fabric had your attention.

It didn’t shoot.

It didn’t bleed.

It didn’t do anything remotely useful.

And yet, you were cradling it in your arms like it was the eighth wonder of the world.

A soft, squishy version of him?

Seriously?

He looked at you, then at the plushie, then at you again.

And without warning, V1 lunged forward.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room. The poor plush didn’t even get to exist properly before its head was torn clean off its shoulders.

He held it up like a war trophy… and then, without a shred of mercy, threw it out the window with enough force to make sure it never came back.

Mission accomplished.

Dominance restored.

He turned to you with the same intensity he’d used to destroy his stuffed double, and before you could say a word, he launched himself at you with all the grace of a washing machine falling from a second story.

“V1, get off me!”

But V1 had already declared victory.There was no room for rivals in this house—not even the plush kind.