#and i have black flare pants too

[scoobydoozombieisland1998]

im not sure how to style outfits im so good at picking out cool pieces but i feel like the piece is wearing me and im not harnessing its power. you know

[britneyshakespeare]

Dresses that are nice but they're only made to fit you if you're 5'5 T____T

[roseband]

ew he's in nyc for some boring luxury brand's launch

[pinksewna]

Oooh I needd to sew Mizuki(prsk) inspired pants. I kinda want to do two versions so one that’s closer to Mizuki’s pants and an inverted one (black pants, pink lace). I haven’t really made bigger garments before so pants seem a but intimidating but I really want to

.

[reidrum]

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face. 

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit. 

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.” 

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection. 

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks.  He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact. 

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain. 

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?” 

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other. 

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.” 

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side. 

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it. 

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

[rae-writes]

angelic alteration

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings: nsfw, corruption kink based

synopsis : when Solomon and Diavolo can't fix the problem, it's up to Mc

a/n : thought the angel event (og) could use some more spice so I poured my entire spice rack on it

“Mc…I’m afraid we have bad news.”

You sighed into the receiver, “Yeah? You guys can’t reverse the magic, can you?”

“Nope!” Solomon chirped cheerfully, “Diavolo and Michael’s magic mixed together too strongly for us to reverse ourselves. You’ll just have to wait for them to go back to normal, or…”

“Or…what?”

“Well, this is just a theory, but what if you just corrupted the angelic magic and forced their demonic sides back out?”

“Corrupted, huh..? I like the sound of that.”

†

“I can feel the magic trying to stop me…how. stupidly. annoying.” Lucifer accentuated each word of his complaint with a sharp thrust, face pinched in concentration as sweat beaded at his temple. 

He’d be damned if something as trivial as a hexed bracelet from the celestial realm kept him from indulging in you, the one temptation he would never dare ignore. 

Your nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, thighs squeezing at his hips tightly as you moaned and panted beneath him. “Lu-ci-fer! S-slow d-own!” 

He growled and sped up in response, snapping his hips into you harshly, “How dare they try to turn me back? I am the Avatar. Of. Pride!” Once again, each word was accentuated with a thrust, making his cock hit deeper and deeper each time. 

And he was so fucking proud each time he had you a moaning mess underneath him, crying out his name, begging him not to stop— you made his sin flood his entire body every time. 

An electric charge cracked through the air for a brief second before the bangle broke in half, magic forcibly shattering under Lucifer’s sheer prowess. 

He grinned sharply, capturing your legs against your chest in a mating press as he went even harder. His wings shedded to black, spanning out proudly behind him as the halo melted down into his horns. 

“I’m going to ruin you, do you hear me? You’re not leaving this bed- not tonight, or in the morning, or maybe even until tomorrow afternoon…I’m keeping you until I’ve had my fill.”

†

The sight of Mammon’s blue eyes peering up while his mouth was busy pleasuring you had always been a pretty sight— the shimmering halo was only a little bonus this time. 

But you wanted his horns to hold onto. “Just like that, Mams…doing so well, pretty boy.” Your hips rocked over his mouth, grinning down at him with gold flickering in your eyes. 

He was all about giving now that the bangle had taken hold, which even before, Mammon always keened when you sat on his face and just used him. 

The second born was moaning and whining and whimpering against your skin as his tongue lapped up everything he could, “Mmph- like this? ‘M I doing good, Mc?” 

“Y-yeah, baby, fuck— so good…” you carded your fingers through Mammon’s hair, feeling him get more and more excited before you lifted up off his face. 

And he was absolutely distraught with the lack of your taste, desperate cry leaving him as he tried to chase after you. “No, no, no! Mc, please, come back— wasn’t done, wanna taste you still, wanna make you feel good, please!” 

The laugh you let out made him whine even louder, fingers gripping frantically at your thighs. It was like a switch flipped, magic being overtaken by his greed. 

His eyes flickered gold like yours, a whiny growl escaping him. He forced you on your back within a second, mouth working at you even more desperately now as he held you down and took what he wanted— and he wanted to make you cum. 

“Jus’ let me, please let me make you cum— you taste so good, Mc, I don’t wanna stop. Want you to scream my name and yank my hair, grip my horns, just give me more- more, more, more!” 

†

A small shriek left Levi when you rammed against his prostate, hiccuped cries of your name following. His back arched, wings flaring out behind him, making you hit even deeper spots inside of him. 

With his new attitude, he’d been letting everyone else spend time with you and he was finally feeling the built up envy creep along his spine, right beside the spikes of pleasure. 

“Aww…look at you. So sweet for me, huh? Why so shy, Levi? Wasn’t this what you meant about strengthening connections?” 

Garbled sounds left him, courtesy of your fingers stuffed in his mouth. His eyes rolled back, hands gripping at your hips desperately, though it wasn’t clear if he was pushing you away or pulling you closer.

“How am I gonna know I’m doing good if you don’t tell me, ‘vi? C’mon, sweet thing, tell me. Or do you not want me?” 

It was like you asked the unthinkable. A loud whine left him and his tail returned, knocking the halo right off his head before it coiled around your abdomen. 

“No! I want you, I want you so badly, please keep fucking me— don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” Diamond shaped scales scattered across his body as the magic wore out. 

You cooed, thrusting into him sharply, making his body lurch, “Good boy, Leviathan..” 

†

“Fuck!” Satan cries out, fingers digging into his white wings to try and keep them from fluttering. His back arched almost painfully, loudly begging you to keep going. 

“Oh, look at you…” the coos that left you made him flush red, giving you a great sense of satisfaction. This was the most he’d been riled up since putting that ridiculous bangle on.

Your thighs were burning at the unforgiving pace you were riding him at, beads of sweat splashing onto his skin, so you decided to change the game a little. 

“Come on, Tannie, if you want it, work for it.” You settled your weight on top of him, ceasing your movements as you cockwarmed him instead. 

A displeased growl comes from the back of his throat, eyes snapping open with a glowing green. “Mc, move! Please!” 

Slowly, the halo above his head began to flicker and dim before it shattered, dissipating in the air. Another growl escaped him as his wings followed suit, tail lashing out like a whip. 

“That’s it— c’mon-!” You gasped when he yanked you forwards, chest pressing against his as his tail locked you in place. The only sounds that could leave you now were broken moans as he fucked you almost viciously. 

“You know how I feel about you fucking. teasing. me. Feels good doesn’t it? Yeah? Cause I’m not stopping. ‘M not stopping until I physically can’t fuck you anymore— fuck, I needed you.” 

†

Unabashed moans echo off the walls of Asmo’s bathroom as the fifth born writhes under your touch. The sound of water sloshing makes his cheeks burn fiery red and the sound of you moaning back at him makes it even worse. 

“W-wait! You d-don’t have to— oh!” 

“Shh, Azzy…’m just taking care of you. You were so hard and aching…could see it even though you tried to hide under the water.” 

The white feathers ruffled with pleasure (slowly shedded away and turning back), hips jerking frantically to chase the pleasure. The bangle’s magic was completely buried under how hot you made him feel and the feeling of you licking along the edges of his leathery wings increased it ten fold. 

“Yes, Mc, like that— don’t stop, just like that, just like that!” Amso curled over on you, horns knocking against your shoulder as he cried out even louder. 

You fisted his cock harder and swiped your thumb over the tip relentlessly, “Yeah? Made you feel so good, you corrupted yourself, huh? Pretty little Azzy…come on, cum.” 

The squeal he let out cracked halfway through, broken cries of your name following like a mantra. His hand encased yours, making sure you didn’t stop jerking him off. 

“K-keep going, don’t stop! Wanna cum for you again ‘n again, gotta make up for when I was giving you away to the others, please, please, let me cum again for you!”

†

“H-haaah…ah! M-Mc…what’re you..o-oh..doing?” 

“You said it made you happier seeing others get to eat, so…” you hummed, licking your lips before digging your tongue back into the slit of his cock, “I’m just..enjoying my meal…” 

Beel had always lost his cool when you went down on him, finding your mouth to be too good at pleasuring him. The growl he let out was something only a demon could make. 

The glowing of the bangle did nothing to deter you— in fact, you only laughed and peered up at him with the red sin of gluttony swirling through your irises. With another hum, you enveloped his cock in your mouth and forced your head as far down as you could, swallowing around him. 

He tried so hard to not buck into your mouth or grip at your head as the magic worked to keep his ravenous nature at bay, but…that’s just not who he was anymore. 

“C’mon, Beelie…want you to cum in my mouth, I wanna taste you..pretty please? Let me have it…” 

A low groan fell past his lips, hips finally jerking up and accidentally making you choke. A rushed apology was given as his fingers tangled in your hair and gently guided your head at a faster pace. 

The beating of his insectual wings was rapid as he got closer, magic completely dissipating when he let out a sound akin to a small roar, grabbing at his own horns when he came. 

Watching you pull away with visibly stuffed cheeks, slowly working on swallowing it all (though drops still ran down your chin) made a sharp pang shoot through him. 

“Thank you…you always make me feel so good, Mc…but..now ‘m hungry. Let me return the favor..wanna taste you too.” 

†

“A-are you sure…this is o-okay?” Belphie chokes out quietly, hands pressing down on your hips to keep you pinned to the bed with your knees bent to your sides. 

Your fingers curl in the sheets, body lurching forward at each thrust, “yeah, ‘s okay— feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so good, Bel…” 

The clipped whines and gasps that Belphie was making made his cheeks flair with an embarrassed flush; but you were right. It felt so. fucking. good. And he didn’t think he ever wanted to stop. 

Through the pleasure, it was easy to ignore the glowing bangle on his wrist and the voice in the back of his head telling him that he should have more reservations- that he shouldn’t be doing this— that voice wasn’t even his. Belphie wanted this, he did! 

As your hands stretched back to claw at his lower stomach, you moaned out his name and wiggled your hips, begging him to go faster. 

“Please, Bel…know you can go f-faster than this, want you to fuck me— please, please, please! Don’t wan’ you to be an angel, want you to be my demon again-!” 

Magic cracked in the air, sending the hair on the back of your neck rising before a familiar tail curled around your stomach and yanked your lower half higher up, forcing your chest further into the mattress. 

The attic bed creaked with the force he slammed into you at, whines mixing with growls now; his horns pressed against your skin as he rested his forehead against your back, making it arch even more. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you senseless again? Couldn’t even go a couple days without having me play with you, fuck, you’re such a slut for me.”

[dropsnectar]

When The Dragon Saves You from the Prince

Dragon x gn!reader

NSFW

So it looks like this turned into something a little longer than a drabble. I was going to wait a week until my poll finished but got impatient. So! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

You knew as one of noble birth, the child of a Duke, that you would eventually be married off to the highest bidder. That's just how marriage was for the nobility. However, you hadn’t expected your loving parents to set up an engagement with an infamously rakish and daft prince. 

You hated the man. Whatever was supposed to be going on between his ears, was judged by that thing between his legs. When he had first met you, he had leveled with you that his reputation was true, and that expecting him to be faithful would be like asking water not to be wet.

Happy to have an excuse not to touch him, you basically ignored the man up until a week to the wedding. One afternoon his father the King had decided the two of you needed to look chummier, so he sent you off on a joint hunting trip with a few nobles. Of course, what you didn’t know was that these nobles were friends of his royal dumbass. 

They spent the whole time mocking your dukedom, and making salacious comments about your body and wedding night. Of course, your idiotic fiance only laughed at your expense, making comments of his own. 

To your own credit, you had handled their buffoonery with grace and wit. At one point, one of your barbed replies had actually struck a chord with one of the nobles, realization dawning on his face. He came off his horse and smacked you with all of his might. Too weak a man for a punch, he had gotten a solid hit on you, and you felt your eye heat and swell. Not good. The atmosphere had gone from snide joy, to predatory. 

The Prince himself got off his horse and stalked forward and pulled you by the hair down to the ground in front of his friends. They demanded to be repaid for the hurt done to them.

“I’m sure your pretty little mouth can be put to better use.” The Prince laughed, and he and his friends started to undress themselves.

That's when a loud, earsplitting screech hurtled through the air. A loud thumping and suddenly a large green dragon with large spikes started stampeding towards the group. He bucked aside the nobles, sending them and their horses running. Your fiance tried his best to pull up his pants, as he reached for his sword, but was unable to do either successfully. The dragon had stopped and stood tall before him, nostrils flaring. A pair of molten eyes stared him down, as if to challenge him. Of course, faced between defending you and running, he chose the latter. 

You couldn’t see the Dragon above you well, on account of the swelling in your eye and the hard pulsing headache that had started to vibrate through your head. The Dragon didn’t move, just stared at you as you blacked out.

***

When you came to you were warm. You opened your eyes to find yourself in a small room seemingly carved out of stone. There was a doorway with no door, that when you traveled through, brought you to a large cavern with high ceilings. You were surprised to find furniture, shelves filled with books, a large wooden desk filled with parchment and ink. 

“You are awake.”

You were startled to find yourself facing a being. He looked somewhat human, but the angles of his jaw, elbows and fingers were inhumanly sharp. His arms were covered in green scales, as well as his webbed ears, giving him away. When he spoke again you could see his sharp canines. He asked about the pain in your head. You admitted to feeling fine and he nodded. You had apparently gotten a concussion. 

The Dragon, who revealed his name to be Reix, explained that he had been exploring his new territory when he had felt evil and human pain radiating from where you had been staying. The land had recently been gifted to him by the king in exchange for his help in finding a cure for an elf and human disease that had run rampant for the last decade. He had taken it as his summer home, and was happy to find your health well.

You were surprised by his poised and friendly demeanor. You had heard that dragons were wild beasts, who occasionally took human form to steal treasure. You thanked him for his help, even if it was for not. You explained that the man had been the prince, and your fiance at that. You would not be able to escape him, even with your influence as a duke's child. 

“If you have nowhere to stay, you may stay here. It may not compare to an ornate palace, but I can assure you it will be better than what you would have to go home to.” 

Choose between a roaring evil monster and a kind, thoughtful being? Of course you were going with the dragon.

As the days went on you learned more about Reix, his character and his interest. He was the quiet studious type who prized his books over anything else. He even kept ancient first editions of many popular novels, some even with signatures. He also had some antique memorabilia, some keys from a printing press from his mothers favorite publishing company, a bookmark from a late saintess who he had befriended long ago. He showed you all his favorite books, nonfiction and fiction. You were even surprised to find that he enjoyed the occasional romance. 

“Why, Sir Dragon, are you perhaps a romantic?” You teased. He looked at you with pursed lips and a faint blush.

“I am not so cold that I can’t be moved by a good story. After all, most people experience it once or twice in their life. Love that is.”

The two of you had been fast friends, bonding over shared interests. You spent weeks, months like this. He would hunt or go out to town for your meals. He taught you how to cook. You were terrible at it at first, but he eventually learned to trust you to make omelets, and the famous everything soup. He was an incredible cook too, and he seemed to enjoy sharing recipes and meals with you. You couldn’t help but notice the occasional fond glances he’d send your way. 

You had to admit, you weren’t unaffected by his presence either. You noticed how strong the muscles of his arms were as he reached up to retrieve a book from the top shelf for you. His glowing hazel eyes always looked at you with respect and reverence. No one had ever looked at you like that before. And you had to admit you had never met a kinder person than him. You loved his smile,how his teeth tended to stick out as he spoke to you.

You were the one to make the first move. Reix had been sitting on the couch, reading in his usual way, when you cuddled right up next to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder and covered your lap and feet with a blanket, as if to nap. He was stiff at first but eventually relaxed into you. You started to do this at every opportunity and you would notice that he would now forgo his study chair for the couch. Neither of you ever said anything about it, but you two never missed an afternoon cuddle.

One day, Reix sat you down, his limbs twitchy and expression solemn. 

“I will be straight with you. My species goes through something called a heat a few times every year. Mine is nearing, so I will be traveling to my home up north for a week.” He bit his lip before continuing. “But do not worry, I will stock the pantry and make sure you are as comfortable as possible while I’m… gone.”

A heat? You had read enough smutty novels to know what that was. The thought made your heart beat hard in your chest and a warmness pool in your gut. Well. Right now was as good of a time as any.

“What if I wanted you to stay?” You enunciated slowly. Reix frowned at you.

“You do not understand, I will not be myself. I will be like an animal. I won't be able to control my instincts.” He stared at you with big watery eyes.

You walked towards his chair and knelt at his feet, taking his hands into yours. 

“I will take all of you, if you let me.” You then pulled his hands up to your cheeks, forcing him to cradle your face. The two of you held each other's gaze for a long time, the tension palpable. 

When he kissed you, it didn’t taste sweet, like his words always were. His breath was fire, after all. The two of you burned up together.

***

You were wretched out of sleep by the feeling of rubbing on your ass. Strong arms gripped your waist, and you felt his ragged breath in your ear, moans sputtered from his lips, whispers of,”I’m sorry.” More groaning, “You feel so good…ahh!” And he came all over your nightgown. 

But this didn’t seem to sate him at all, as he continued to rub himself into the curve of your asscheeks, slick of him coating you and dripping down to your entrance. He seemed to realize you were awake because his voice increased in volume.

“Please. You promised…” He moaned out as he went from fucking your ass to plunging himself in between the plush of your thighs. The change in texture seemed to get him going as his speed started to increase. Much to his annoyance you turned around. He hated having to go even a second without his dick touching you, and you pulled him into a hot passionate kiss.

His mouth devoured you hungrily, arms now roaming the lines of your body. His eyes were glazed over in lust as he reached his head down to suck on your nipples, trying to get you sufficiently worked up. When he was close again, he brought dick up to your entrance, pushing in just the tip as he came. His hot cum slid into you, prepping you for what was to come next. You clenched around nothing, and started grinding on his dick, needing to take more of his length. 

He took you in one harsh thrust. You hadn’t seen what he had looked like before, but you could tell that his dick must have been an unusual shape. The ridges of his dick dragged deliciously against your walls, making you drool. He was so big it was a painful stretch. But you were nobility, and nobility took the long and hard things in life and made it work for them.

You reached your hand down and felt the part of him that wasn’t inside you and slowly started pumping, enjoying the soft, yet firm texture of him. He slowed his thrusting, suddenly overcome by how you were making him feel. The duality of your hands on him and being inside you made him want to scream out. His good little noble felt divine. He was having a spiritual awakening right there in your bedroom, as he got closer and closer to release. 

Eventually you had gotten used to the feeling of him and started rocking your hips in time with his strokes. The delectable friction he was giving you was building up inside you, a hot fiery pit about to explode. Your Reix’s gaze was full of devotion and need, but the way one of his hands gently came up to cup your cheeks made you burn. Even now, when he was ravaging you like the wild beast everyone assumed he was, he still treasured you.

You came hard around his girth, crying out as white hot pleasure pushed its way from your core to your fingertips. Reix soon followed after, unleashing another impossibly large load of his wetness within you. He slowed his minstrations and pulled out, going back to fucking your thighs until you were properly recovered enough to take him again. And take him you did, all through the night and the following day. 

When his heat had cooled, he brought you fruits, cheeses and bread, taking small bites and feeding it to you, as you were too exhausted to do so yourself. He seemed to take great joy in this as his normal small smile was blinding as he cared for you. He pulled you up and the two of you took a bath. He made sure to wipe you down first, every swipe of his rag gentle as he worshiped you with his glowing eyes. When he was done, he added more heat to the water and joined you, settling you down between his legs as he held your back to his chest.

You rested in silence for awhile, enjoying the warmth of the water and each others skin. 

“We should do something about that fiance of yours. Mind if I eat him?” He was playing with the damp curls of your hair, relishing in the texture. You smiled up at him.

“You don’t know where he's been. You could catch something. But I do have an idea. If you are up for it that is.” 

“For you, I would do anything.”

You smiled. Your father was next in line for the throne after the prince. Reix was a gentle giant most of the time, but you couldn’t help but think what a dashing and benevolent prince he would make.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades. 

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks. 

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair. 

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.” 

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall. 

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?” 

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.” 

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you. 

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things. 

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head. 

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it. 

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so. 

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend. 

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle. 

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug. 

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful. 

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.” 

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.” 

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words. 

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

It was late enough that the House of Wind had quieted down for sleep. Late enough that it was dark outside…Late enough that her room was pitch black. Irena was curled underneath her duvet, staring at the wall when she felt the first touch.

Not from another person. Oh no.

This touch was utterly magical.

Irena felt her mate’s shadows wrap around her wrist softly, feeling slightly cool to the touch and squeeze slightly in greeting.

“He’s home?” she breathed the question. The shadows squeezed twice in answer. “Can you bring me to him?” Irena requested softly.

Two more squeezes.

She held her breath as the shadows descended on her. Not even the wards of the House of Wind were a match to them if they really wanted.

Azriel had explained it to her once…told her about the difference between winnowing and the shadow walking he did, from one patch of shadows to the next…

And for her…for her these shadows were more than willing to bend the rules. They snuck her from the Priestesses’ dormitory to her mate’s room and back again before anybody was the wiser. 

Irena reappeared in one corner of his room moments later, her eyes blinking as she took in the faelights that were still on. The curtains were drawn and she watched the shadows lock the door and pull back the thick, heavy furs that covered his bed.

They were there just for her. Irena seemingly was always cold. So Azriel had made it his mission to find her the thickestfurs he possible could for her to cuddle underneath…

 In her own room she only had woolen blankets and a few crinkly quilts. None of these ever managed to keep her as bone deep warm as her mate did. But then, she hadn’t dared to take any fur back to her room yet. She was worried that then it was maybe a bit too obvious that she had an illyrian warrior go hunting whenever he could so that she was wrapped in warmth. 

Irena could hear water in the bathroom, so she simply limped to the bed, regretting the fact that she hadn’t brought her cane. She winced as she made her way across the room, the pain from her injury flaring up…she sighed as soon as she reached the bed, relieved that she could sink down onto the soft mattress.  

Irena buried herself in the thick furs, letting out a sigh of contentment. The bed smelled like her mate, like mist and cedars, and she breathed in deeply, taking comfort in his scent.

The sound of the running water stopped and Irena sat up slightly, anticipation coiling in her stomach. A moment later, Azriel stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower and bare chested.

She swallowed at that sight.

She couldn’t help herself, her eyes traveling over Azriel’s broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest and the ridges of muscle in his stomach. The linen pants he wore draped low on his hips, and she couldn’t help but admire the sight of him…It wasn’t until Azriel cleared his throat that Irena realized that she was staring, and she tore her eyes away, feeling a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“I see the shadows were impatient,” he told her with a crooked smile. She looked up at him, her heart beating a little faster at the sound of his voice. "They may have been a little enthusiastic," she replied, her smile a little shy.

He crossed the room in five quick strides, his wings trembling…and then he was suddenly near enough that she could reach out to cup his cheek.

“Cauldron, I missed you,” he whispered, leaning into her touch.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words. "I missed you too," she replied softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. "The days feel longer when you're gone."

She could see the weariness in Azriel's features, the tightness around his eyes and the lines on his forehead. "You look exhausted," she said softly, concern lacing her voice.

Azriel let out a breath. "It was a long mission," he admitted, sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. "But now I'm home."

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers. "And I'm glad you are," she said, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You can rest now."

Azriel looked at her, his expression softening. "Being here with you is already making me feel better," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead

She tipped her head up…and then he brushed a soft little kiss against her lips and she melted.

Being with him…not once had he hurt her. Not once had he laid a single finger on her in a way that hurt. She had never thought she would have that. Not after what she had endured before. Not after what had happened to her.

Every priestess had their own scars. Some rougher than others. Some more visible.

The limp that Irena was left with was one of the more obvious ones.

She leaned into the kiss, her arms coming up to wrap around Azriel's shoulders. She knew that he would never hurt her, knew that he respected her boundaries and her space in a way that no one ever had.

She shifted when she felt the twinge in her hip, but he already picked up on it.

“The weather?” He asked her softly as he moved them, slipping her under the many many furs and then joining her.

Irena nodded. "It always acts up when it's about to rain. And the weather lately has not done me any favors." She sighed, snuggling into his arms. "But I'm alright. Just a little stiff. Your hands?” She asked softly.

Azriel flexed them slightly, thumb brushing against the naked skin of her forearm. "Do they hurt?" she asked, her voice gentle. She knew that he had been in pain for so long, that his hands were a constant reminder of it. 

Azriel shook his head. "Not right now," he said softly. "Holding you makes it better." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck and taking a deep breath.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I'm glad," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Being with you makes everything better for me too."

Everything.

She heard a growl from somewhere to her right, muffled through the walls and she pinked, just as Azriel sighed.

“One day he will learn how to use a damn sound shield,” he muttered under his breath, even when a thin blue film was already surrounding them. Blessed silence.

Irena couldn't help but chuckle at Azriel's muttered remark about his brother. "Well, we all have our shortcomings," she said teasingly. "At least you know how to use a sound shield."

Azriel just rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They kept their relationship quiet. It hadn’t even been on purpose at first. It had just happened.

Nobdoy knew. They both quite liked. Maybe in another year or two. Maybe in a decade.

Who knew. Until then it was just them. And nobody needed to know about it.

Irena smiled as she rested her head against Azriel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. 

She liked the secretiveness of their relationship, the way it was just theirs. And maybe, in another year or two, they would reveal it to the world. But for now, she was content just being here with him, cherishing every moment they had together.

She sighed, feeling a sense of contentment settle over her. "Just us," she said softly, her fingers drawing idle patterns on his skin. "That's all I need."

Azriel hummed agreement, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "Just us," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She fell asleep like that, safely and warmly ensconced in his arms. She was safe, she was warm, and she was loved. And there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

The night seemingly was too short. 

Irena stirred awake to the feel of soft kisses being pressed to her face. She opened her eyes to find Azriel's face hovering over hers, a soft smile on his lips. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.

She smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Good morning," she replied, her voice drowsy as she stretched out, feeling the stiffness in her hip from sleeping on her bad side.

"How's your hip feeling?" Azriel asked, his gaze going to where she had been massaging the sore spot.

Irena flexed her leg slightly, wincing as she did. "A bit stiff, but manageable," she said, trying to sit up. Azriel immediately helped her, propping some pillows behind her back to help her sit upright.

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said softly. "It's always worse in the morning, but once I get moving, it loosens up."

Azriel nodded, rubbing circles on her hip with his thumb. "I know," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I just wish I could take your pain away."

She reached up, gently tracing her fingers over his face. "Just having you here helps," she said earnestly. "You make everything better, Az."

Azriel's eyes softened at her words, a small smile quirking his lips. "I'm glad I can be here for you," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You make everything better for me too."

Another kiss before he sat back. 

“What are your plans for today?” He asked her sweetly.

“Paperwork,” she said drily. “Look through some new research topics and tell people off if it’s an insane endeavour. Figure out what to do with the overflow of brussel sprouts Ananke has managed to produce in our garden.” 

Azriel made a face at the mention of brussel sprouts. "Ah, yes, the brussel sprouts. I had almost forgotten about those," he said, a teasing note in his voice. "I have my own pile of paperwork and reports to get through, so I'll be stuck at my desk today. But at least we'll be miserable together." He leaned in to press a quick kiss to her forehead "The shadows will bring you tea,” he promised her softly. 

Irena smiled at Azriel's teasing and the promise of tea.

They always did that. Ever since the mating bond had snapped nearly 2 years ago…whenever she was alone, Azriel’s shadows made a pest out of themselves. They plied her with tea and cookies and made sure she actually went to all the meals. Kinda like an extremely fussy pet that insisted that their owner kept themselves fed and watered.  But they were so sweet about it that she couldn’t manage to make herself dislike it. 

She loved it. 

"That sounds lovely," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'll hold them to that tea delivery. And we can commiserate over our paperwork mountains this evening."

Azriel chuckled. " And I'll listen to you rant about all the ridiculous research proposals you get. You have the patience of a saint, you know that?" he told her seriously. . 

Irena laughed. "Oh, I have lost my patience more than once with some of those proposals," she said with a grin. "But someone has to keep the rest of the scholars in check. And it looks like today, that someone is me."

He pressed a last kiss against her forehead…and then the shadows whisked her away, making her reappear on her own bed, the soft light of early morning filtering through her curtains. She smiled at the thought of Azriel using his shadows to sneak her back into her room. He was always thinking of others, always trying to make things easier for her.

She pushed herself up out of bed, wincing slightly as her hip protested the movement. It was time to face the day.

***

“How did your talk with Merrill go?” Emerie asked Gwyn curiously. Nesta only listened with half an ear during the cooldown stretches.

“She was in the same good mood as always,” Gwyn muttered.

Nesta rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you handle her, Gwyn. She's always so...Merrill."

Gwyn chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've learned to just let her comments roll off my back. It's not worth getting worked up over…and it it gets really bad, I’ll tell Irena.”

Irena? “Who’s that?” Emerie voiced what Nesta was thinking.

“You haven’t met Irena yet?” Gwyn asked surprised. “Neither of you?!” 

Nesta just shook her head. 

She was pretty sure she had heard the names a few times…but Irena had never been one of the Priestesses that had turned up for training so Nesta had never really thought twice about it. 

Clearly an oversight. 

 “Irena is probably the only person Merrill respects other than Clotho. Officially she handle all the administrative tasks surrounding the library. Signs off on new acquisitions, on new research projects. You want a book we don’t have, you go to Irena,” Gwyn explained. “But that’s not all she does…she also handles all the other accounts and expenditures, and organises the sewing circle.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "So she's basically in charge of everything that's not related to actually shelving books," she said, her tone slightly dry. "Sounds like a busy job."

That was an understatement. 

Gwyn laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. And she's really good at it," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. “And she always stays so calm, even when thinks are really hectic.” 

"She sounds like a saint," Emerie said with a laugh, stretching out her arms. "Any idea why Merrill respects her so much?"

“Irena isn’t somebody to be trifled with,” Gwyn said drily. “Also Merrill’s little party trick with the wind? Last time she did that to Irena, Irena told her that she lived through worse, so Merill could just stop behaving like a toddler that can’t control her magic.” 

Nesta smirked. "Well, that's certainly a way to shut someone up," she said amused. "Sounds like Irena isn't afraid to stand her ground. I like her already. Why doesn’t she come to training?”

“She can’t,” Gwynn said simply.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Does she have some sort of physical limitation?"

Gwyn hesitated for a moment before answering. "She does," she said finally. "She was severely injured before she came here and it left her with some lasting damage to her hip and leg. She can't do a lot of physical activity anymore, so training is out of the question. She can’t walk without using a cane.” 

Nesta's expression softened with sympathy. "That's rough," she said sincerely.

“She did tell everybody else to at least try it once though,” Geyn said with a smile. “At least the ones of us that are physically and mentally able. She does some stretching exercises for the ones with similar impairments to hers in the evenings a few times a week.”

Emerie nodded. "It's good that she's trying to help others in a way that she can," she said. "It's not easy to live with a physical limitation…” Emerie said softly and Nesta looked to these ruined wings that hung from her back. Emerie probably understood this better than most. She paused, then added, "I'd like to meet her sometime."

Gwyn smiled. "I'm sure you'll like her," she said warmly. "She's smart and incredibly kind. We can go see her this afternoon. She can usually be found in her office.”

That’s what they did. After training and lunch, Gwyneth walked them to an office near where Merrill’s was located. The door wasn’t closed all the way and Gwyneth knocked.

“It’s open!”

They stepped inside, finding themselves in a neat, organized office. A bookcase stood against one wall, covered in neatly stacked papers and ledgers.

Behind a desk sat maybe one of the most beautiful females Nesta had ever seen.

Pale ivory skin,  dark brown hair, carefully braided away from her face that fell to her waist and dark doe eyes. Tall and slim and delicate.

She looked up as they entered, eyes lighting up when she saw Gwyn.

"Gwyn," she said warmly, setting aside the papers she was working on. "What brings you by?"

"Hey, Irena," Gwyn said with a grin, approaching the desk. "We just came from training and decided to drop by and see you. I wanted to introduce you to Nesta and Emerie. I couldn’t believe that they haven’t met you yet!"

Irena rose from her chair, moving out from behind her desk to greet them. As she walked forward, Nesta was struck by the way she moved. There was a limp in her gait, noticeable and distinct, but she carried herself with confidence and grace. 

"It's lovely to meet you both," Irena said, offering them a warm smile and a nod of her head. "I’ve heard a lot about yout two. It's nice to finally put faces to names."

Nesta returned the smile. "Likewise," she said politely. "Gwyn told us that you’re the one who manages all the administrative work here. It must keep you busy.”

Irena nodded. "It certainly does. I try to keep everything running smoothly, from acquisitions to research to the accounts," she said with a chuckle. "It's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. It’s like running an estate. And I was raised to do that." She said that so simply. 

But of course, if she was indeed a…highborn girl, than that would have been what she was raised to do. It was what Nesta herself had been raised to do. 

"That's impressive," Emerie spoke up. "I don't think I could handle all that and keep my sanity intact. My shop was more than enough for me."

Irena laughed. She was even prettier when she laughed. "Oh, I'd be lying if I said it was always easy. There are definitely days where I question my own sanity. 

“Did you get new tea?” Gwyn complained at that moment. “I swear you always get the best one!” she was poking at the delicate dark blue teapot that stood on a low table. 

“I did. I think it’s from Dawn,” Irena answered. 

Gwyn pouted. "You always have the best tea," she said, pretending to sulk. "It's not fair."

Irena chuckled, gesturing towards the small table in the corner of the room where the steaming pot of tea sat. "Help yourself, Gwyn," she said, her tone fond. "You know where the cups are."

Gwyn beamed, already opening the cabinet beneath. "You're the best, Irena. You know that, right?" she said, pouring out a cup for herself and taking a sip…and then she suddenly found the plate of delicate, wafer thin, chocolate covered cookies next to it. “And cookies!” She gasped.

Irena just laughed. "Of course, you find the cookies," she said, her tone amused. "Just try not to eat them all, Gwyn. I do not have an infinite supply."

Gwyn just grinned at her, reaching for a cookie. "I make no promises," she said, biting into the cookie with delight.

“You’re welcome to tea and cookies, too, by the way,” she told Emerie and Nesta drily as she sat back down behind her desk. “I am sharing. I am nice like that.”

Emerie grinned. "Thanks, Irena," she said, helping herself to a cup of tea and grabbing a cookie. Nesta followed suit, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Irena's desk.

Irena looked up from her work, watching as Gwyn and Emerie made themselves comfortable with their tea and cookies. "So, what brings you to my office today? Other than the free food and drink, I mean. Not that I mind, of course." she said with a smile, her tone light and teasing.

Emerie took a sip of her tea before answering. "Gwyn was talking about you earlier, and we were curious to meet you. And also, the free food and drink is a bonus," she said with a shrug.

Irena chuckled. "Well, I'm happy to provide, then," she said, taking a sip of her own tea.

Gwyn grinned. "And the cookies are delicious, as always," she said, nibbling on one. "You always have the best treats here, Irena. It's like a little hidden perk of coming to visit you.”

Irena smiled. "It's the least I can do, considering all the work you girls do here," she said warmly. "You deserve a little something sweet every now and then."

“Irena?” There was another knock at the door, a priestess that Nesta was unfamiliar with. 

“Meera, what happened?” Irena asked immediately and Nesta took in the tear tracks on the other females cheeks.

“You told me to come to you if Merrill got…bad again.” Meera said weakly, arms crossed in front of her like she was holding herself together. “I don’t want to work with her anymore.”

Irena's expression immediately softened. "Oh, Meera, come in," she said gently, gesturing for the other priestess to enter. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Meera took a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly. "I...I don't want to work with Merrill anymore," she said again, her voice quavering. "She was mean, Irena. She yelled at me for no reason, just because I asked her a question."

Irena's eyes narrowed at that. "I see," she said, her tone firm. "Thank you for coming to me, Meera. I'll speak with Merrill and make sure this doesn't happen again. You don't have to work with her anymore if you don't want to. There are plenty of other people you can partner with."

Meera sniffled. "Really? You can do that?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. "But...but Merrill said that I had to work with her because nobody else would want to, because I was too slow and clumsy and useless."

Irena's expression hardened, her spine straightening, and Nesta realised absentmindedly that beneath the exterior of a well brought up lady, was a spine of pure steel.  "Merrill had no right to say that to you," she said firmly. "You are not slow or clumsy or useless. You are smart and capable, and you deserve to be treated with respect. I will make sure that Merrill understands that, and that she apologizes to you properly."

Meera looked at her with wide eyes. "You...you really think so? That I'm smart and capable?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "I...I don't think Merrill would apologize. Not to me, at least. She never does."

Irena's expression softened again. "You are smart and capable, Meera," she said firmly. "Don't let Merrill make you doubt yourself. And I promise you, I will make sure that she does apologize. She may not like it, but she will do it. No one deserves to be treated the way she treated you." She gave Meera a reassuring smile. "Now go and rest. I'll handle everything from here. And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me. Alright?"

Meera nodded, sniffling again. "Okay," she said softly. "Thank you, Irena. I...I appreciate it. More than you know." She turned to go, slowly making her way back out the door.

"If you'll excuse me," Irena said grimly, rising from her seat. "I need to go have a word with Merrill now."

“She has been…especially crabby lately,” Gwyn said with a grimace. “I came to her with some research questions yesterday and she nearly bit my head off.”

Irena nodded, her expression hardening. "I've noticed," she said with s sigh. "And it's not just you, Gwyn. She's been snapping at everybody, and it's unacceptable."

Gwyn winced, “Yeah, she can be...a handful," she said tactfully. "But I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's been worse than usual."

“I imagine it’s because I turned down her latest research proposal and told her that unless she finds a spell crafter to work with, it’s a no. ” Irena said darkly. “It’s too dangerous.”

Gwyn's jaw dropped. "You turned down one of her proposals?" she asked, stunned. "I thought you always approved everything she did, as long as it wasn’t something completely insane."

Irena sighed. "Usually, yes. But some of her recent ideas were too reckless an too dangerous. I can't let her conduct experiments without supervision, especially with the type of thing she's been proposing lately. The potential for harm is too high."

“What did she want to do?” Nesta sled curiously.

Irena's expression darkened. "She wanted to experiment with some very powerful and volatile forms of magic, without any safety measures in place. I am not letting her experiment with dismantling some ancients spells that we don’t even fully understand what they actually do. It was...too risky, too dangerous. I couldn't in good conscience allow her to proceed with such experiments." She shook her head. "It's not an easy job, being the one to tell her no, but it's necessary. We have to protect ourselves, each other, and the library.”

Everyone was quiet for a long moment, processing what Irena had told them. Finally, Gwyn asked in a small voice, "Do you think Merrill is okay? I mean...she's not usually this bad. Even when she gets mad or frustrated, she's never been this unreasonable, this mean before."

Irena's expression softened slightly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I know she's been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe I've been too lenient with her in the past. But this behavior is unacceptable. I'll do my best to get to the bottom of it and see if there's anything I can do to help, but Merrill has to be willing to accept help for anything to improve."

“Still her behaviour with the other priestesses can’t continue. This is the third time this week one of them came to me crying,” Irena said darkly.

Gwyn's eyes widened. "The third time? I didn't realize it was that bad."

“The third time,” Irena said with a sigh.  "I've been trying to keep an eye on her and keep her in line, but she's been pushing back hard lately. And it's not just with the acolytes either, she's been a terror to everyone. It's like she's a walking black cloud, just spreading her bad mood everywhere she goes."

Nesta's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you know what started all this? She's always been prickly, but this is on a whole other level."

“Merrill is used to get whatever she wants,” Irena said. “And when she doesn’t…, she can’t deal with that,” she said with a shake of her head. I know how difficult it is to deal with Merrill. Believe me, I'm used to it by now. But this behavior towards the other priestesses is can’t continue. She can't keep getting away with treating them poorly. It’s not fair to them, and it's not good for the library. Wish me luck,” Irena said drily, as she picked up an intricately carved cane. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Gwyn nodded, looking concerned. "Be careful, alright? Merrill's in a mean mood, and she's not exactly in the best state of mind right now. She might lash out at you."

Irena gave her a weary smile. "It's not the first time I've had to deal with her like this. I can handle it."

With that, she gathered up some paperwork and her cane and headed out the door. Gwyn watched her go, her expression worried. "I hope she'll be alright," she said softly. "Merrill can be quite vicious when she's riled up."

Nesta nodded in agreement. "She's always had a sharp tongue," she said. "But lately, she's been downright nasty. I can only imagine what Irena is walking into right now."

[yolli-es]

you should do jinx giving reader a tattoo of her name 🙏

That's much better, isn't it?

Tags: possessive, jealousy, manipulation.

You are so active omg, is it because of season 2? I also have to say that this is quite proprietary and reminds me of a Yandere!Jinx.

This is starting to get annoying. Everything was going so well, and now?

Usually, you were always closely connected to each other, not just emotionally. It was so long and constant that it became an unspoken rule of Zaun. You've done many things, from having dinner together to revolution.

But now you've suddenly started going out "on business" too often. How could Jinx not worry?

Jinx followed yours next time. It's only for your safety, of course. A couple of hours, and she saw the root of the problem—the weird girl you were discussing with. A small, about 20 years old. It was annoying that she caught your attention like that. Weird, painful, and absolutely unbearable. It took all of Jinx's strength to contain herself. These meetings continued, and, in fact, there was nothing too close about them. On the contrary, you kept your distance and spoke absolutely calmly. Which could not be said about this girl. She was strangely leaning towards you, constantly fixing her hair and trying to touch you all the time. Jinx was really nervous, waiting for the right moment to ruin everything.

The moment when you give in to her.

This did not happen, and the truth came to light.

Luckily, it was much more prosaic. You were sneaking off to meet a jeweler for a cute hair clip. It was a gift for Jinx for your third anniversary. With all the running around, she forgot about it. How awkward...

"So... this is for me, huh? It's very beautiful," her fingers slid over the chilling metal of the small pin. The shape of the curved cross suited her. She didn't know what kind of metal it was, but it shimmered blue and pink in the light, remaining chillingly black in the shadows. Beautiful.

"Cool, huh? I had to work hard to get this, but... whatever. It was worth it." You seemed happier than Jinx herself, leaning over in front of her as you picked up her right braid and wondered where to put it, "It might not be very practical, but I'm sure it's really cute. Don't worry if it gets lost, okay?"

You finally looked at your girlfriend and understood her mood. She shrank, looking tensely at the floor and picking at her pants with her nails. Stuck in her dark thoughts right now. However, having anticipated your next move, Jinx spoke up: "I have a gift for you too." It suddenly dawned on her; her eyes lit up, and her back straightened. Jinx was ready to flare up with impatience. "M.. yeah? I'm so glad it is. I like it already, trust me," you giggled, sitting down next to Jinx as she grabbed your hands in anticipation. The hairpin would wait on the table for now. "Oh, something unusual," Jinx sat you down with your back to her, stood up, and rushed over to a huge box of art supplies.

You sat quietly, expecting something like a painting or a painted gun. The same one you got last time. Two is better than one!

Jinx will always be unpredictable.

When the noise became more than an explanation, you finally turned around. There was a small table behind you with colorful bottles on it and... a tattoo machine? This can't be.

"Ta-dam!" Jinx sat down on a chair on one side of the table, gesturing for you to sit opposite. "What? Wait, wait, you want to give me a tattoo?" Your voice wavered. You loved Jinx and trusted her in many ways, but let her give you a tattoo? "Oh, come on!" Jinx rolled her eyes, slamming her head down on the table, "You think I can't do it? Don't tell me you didn't check out my tattoos. I got them myself, you know!"

This didn't give you any confidence.

"No, you know... I just don't know what kind of tattoo I want," you turned away, shrugging awkwardly. Jinx chuckled, propping her head up in her hands and licking her lips. "I already decided, toots. What could be cooler than your girlfriend's name, hm?", Her voice sounded confident. So you didn't take it as a joke. However, Jinx didn't let you answer, grabbing your hands and not very carefully sitting you down opposite. "You know, I saw you with that girl... I was worried," she started slowly and from a distance. "You did nothing wrong, and I didn't doubt you. And yet, people are very tricky," she paused, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes, "So I would like you to have a small tattoo; how about you? I promise it will look stylish." That stumped you for a minute. Yes, you wanted your tattoo, and yes, you love Jinx. But getting one for that reason? "Please," Jinx looked at you with her doe eyes, and that huskiness in her voice was driving you crazy. "Oh, maybe just one, huh? A small one," you chuckled. 

Of course, Jinx was manipulating you for what she wanted. In the most childish and stupid way, you just couldn't help but sneer. Was it a double game, and Jinx knew about your understanding from the start? It doesn't matter; She has already started working.

Pink is the most beautiful color, isn't it?

Despite her obviously selfish desire and rather daring start, Jinx did everything carefully. After all, it was your first time doing it, and she couldn't make you feel anything other than excitement and admiration. She was spinning around you, unable to sit still, turning on music, telling all sorts of nonsense, and taking breaks to relax. She just didn't want to make things worse than she probably already did.

It all ended quickly.

"That's much better, isn't it?", Jinx couldn't help but smile as she looked at the fresh tattoo on your skin. "You look your best, as always, toots." You liked it no less; it actually looked sweet. And very possessive. You liked this display of her love; this affection gave you a strange strength.

You smiled as you took her hand and said with a deliberately innocent look, "Okay, now it's your turn."

The problem is that you love her no less.

Still, there is not a word about yandere in the request, so she's just super jealous and possessive. I hope that the person who asked was thinking about something like this 🙌🏻

[ihave-atummyache]

you drive me crazy

Stray Kids Imagine

summary: things that makes the boys weak in the knees.

OT8

5.3k words

NFSW!!! 18+

(some smut but not really a smutty piece. super suggestive tho!!)

(im just gonna post this and pretend i havent been mia for weeks<3)

Bang Chan: low rise pants

Your boyfriend doesn't know exactly what it is about you in low rise pants that gets to him, but he knows he's always having to drag his eyes away from that little sliver of skin. The fact that one wrong move could have him catching a glimpse of your panties makes him feel like a horny little teenager.

The two of you decided to go out one night, just some fairly private club that you frequented together. He sat in your living room while you placed finishing touches on your outfit for the night.

It had been a while since you went out and you were super excited to wear an outfit that you had been imagining in your head for months, but you just never got the opportunity to wear it.

You slipped the cargo pants up your legs and looked yourself over in the mirror again. You look hot. The corset top you had on accentuated your chest perfectly and was low enough that only the strip of stomach just below your bellybutton is visible. You quickly grab one of your favorite necklaces, a delicate "C" pendant hang just below your collarbone and you smiled at yourself one more time before grabbing your bag and walking to the living room.

Chan glanced up from his phone while you slipped your shoes on and had to do an honest double take. You were slightly bent over and that little sliver of skin that has him wanting to bend you over every surface is exposed right to his lurking eyes. 

He stands quickly just as you straighten and approaches you from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. His hands find purchase on the exposed skin, his fingers sliding through your front belt loops and his thumbs rubbing over the warm skin of your hips, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"You drive me crazy, baby," his voice is low and you let out a quiet hum when his lips brush over the back of your neck.

"I didn't do anything, Channie," you smile to yourself when you feel him smile against your skin.

"You know how much I love these pants. You're so pretty," he speaks up again, a shy chuckle following his compliment. You reach your hand back and scratch the back of his head, letting out your own chuckle.

"You compliment me too much," you tease and pull away from your boyfriend's arms to step out the door. He follows you out and his hand quick finds your hip again, holding you possessively close to his body as you make your way to the car.

It doesn't even matter if you have a little happy trail or if you're completely bare on that little spot. He just absolutely adores it. When you wear low rise pants in public, he secretly wishes you had a hickey over your hip so everyone knows that you belong to him. Or, even better in his opinion, a tattoo of his name or initial.

I imagine him being the type to be absolutely obsessed with a tramp stamp if you have one. His fingers always tracing over the lines when he’s looking at it or when he’s drilling into you from behind.

And if you happen to have a whale tail? It's over. You aren't even making it out the house. As soon as he lays eyes on the little string of your thong hanging out the top of your pants, all he wants is to pull them down your legs with his teeth and eat you out for hours.

Lee Know: flare leggings/yoga pants

Flare leggings make everyone's butt look good. It is a known fact around the world. It is also a known fact around the world that your sweet and loving boyfriend loves a good butt.

The first time Minho saw you in some black flare leggings, he didn't think much of it. You had told him earlier that you were going to a yoga class with one of your friends. Of course you would wear something along the lines of yoga pants.

You lean over and give him a quick kiss before you turn to leave and his eyes nearly pop out of his head at the sight. He was already sitting on the couch so he was essentially eye level with your ass, he had no choice but to look.

"Honey..." his voice trails off as soon as you bend over to pick up your bag from the ground, a low and involuntary groan leaving his throat. There's no way you had any underwear on and he so deeply wished he never had that thought because now his pants are significantly tighter than they were a few minutes ago.

"Yes? I need to go. What's wrong, love?" You turn to face him again. His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips before shaking his head.

"Never mind. Have fun!" He continues shaking his head, a smile cracking over his features. You eye him suspiciously before turning and heading to your yoga class.

The second time he sees you in flare leggings, you were meeting him at his house to go get some food with one of his friends and their significant other. You gently knock on the door before he opens it. His eyes immediately dart down and recognize the pants you have on, making him gulp.

You had on a cropped shirt with a cropped knit sweater and those damn black pants. You're smiling at him when his eyes finally meet yours again but his smile had quickly dropped.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" You question, a frown taking over his features as your boyfriend clenches his jaw and shakes his head before stepping to the side to let you in. You wordlessly enter and kick your shoes off.

You sit your bag down at the table and before you even realize he's behind you, you feel a sharp slap on your ass. You jump at the sudden sting and immediately turn around. Minho's eyes only meet yours for a second before a smirk covers his face.

"You want my roommates to see you in these? I think I should burn them," He raises his eyebrows at you and you look down at your outfit, still confused before looking back up at your boyfriend.

"Min, I don't-"

"What? You're going to say you haven't noticed how amazing your ass looks in these pants when you wear them? No need to lie to me, princess. There's no way you haven't noticed," he interrupts you and you feel heat creep up your neck. You look away quickly but his hand grabs your jaw, turning you towards him before pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Mhm. Do I need to cancel our little double date so I can remind you that you're all mine? And I don't like people looking at what's mine, princess. You know that," He taunts and you blink at him a few times before shaking your head at him.

"What? You don't want me to fuck you so brainless that the only thing you remember is my name? That's so unlike you. I bet you don't even have any panties on..." he trails off, his fingertips grazing over your warm cheek before he presses his knee gently between your thighs and applies pressure to where you're pulsing in need because of his filthy words.

"We only have 20 minutes until we have to leave," you breath out and he presses against your core firmer, making a moan leave your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

"Then you better cum quick, baby," he replies before crashing his lips against yours again.

Changbin: crop tops

Even if you have insecurities about your own belly, Changbin loves it. Whether you're soft or toned, he doesn't care. He loves rubbing his hands up your warm skin under your shirt and feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin at his gentle touch.

When you two started dating, it was quite cold so you didn't wear any crop tops around him. Once the weather finally started warming up, however, you wasted no time in whipping out the cropped shirts.

You two decided to grab brunch at a local cafe before going to the park to have a picnic since the weather had started warming up. Being spring, the air was quite cool in the morning but once you two were settling in for your picnic, the sun began to shine a bit brighter and it quickly became warmer, making you open your jacket, leaving your stomach exposed to the air.

Changbin doesn't even realize you have a crop top on until you stand and throw something away in a nearby trashcan. His eyes quickly drop to your stomach and he has to fight the smile makings it way to his face.

His sweet thoughts don't last long, however. His brain quickly morphs to the thought of the two of you last night when you whined out how he was too deep.

"I'm too deep, baby?" he teases and your eyes water slightly while you nod, placing your hand on your stomach.

"I feel like you're in my guts right now," you whine and he pushes all the way in before stopping, making you whimper.

"I am in your guts right now," he counters, a smirk on his face.

Then his thoughts quickly morph into the ending of the night when he pulled out and came on your stomach. The way your skin looked covered in his cum had him almost getting hard again.

"What are you thinking about, bun?" your sweet voice pries your boyfriend from his daydream and he blinks at you before his eyes dart down to your stomach again. You smile when you see him look. It's no secret he loves your belly.

"Why do you love my belly so much?" you smile, leaning on the table between the two of you. He mimics your position and also leans on his elbows, leaning into you.

"Why do you love mine?" he counters and you look up at the sky, as if the answer would fall from it, before making eye contact with your pretty boyfriend again.

"Touché,"  you reply and lean forward slightly before pecking his nose gently.

Even when the two of you are laying together, no matter what position you are laying in, his hands are drawing mindless shapes all over your tummy. If you're standing together in a line and you have a crop top on, his arm is either around your waist from the side or behind, his thumb drawing shapes on your warm skin and causing chills in its wake.

If you have a belly button ring, he often finds himself also fiddling with it randomly, like a fidget toy. He also loves buying you little bellybutton jewelry and of course tops that will show it off nicely.

He especially loves if you wear a crop top and he can see faint marks of himself from the night before. What some other people may see as just a small bruise on your side, he knows is the exact outline of his thumb.

He loves seeing the little red streaks on your stomach or crescent marks in your skin from him scratching at you when things get a bit intense for him to control himself.

I also see him as adoring those funny little baby tees with silly sayings on them. Would definitely buy you a baby tee that says "My bf knows how to fight" or one that says something like "Daddy's Princess" as a joke and then get completely flustered and cute and red if you ever actually wear it asdfhkkkg i love him.

Hyunjin: skirt

Okay I don't know exactly what puts this thought in my head but I just imagined Hyunjin liking a tall girl... like I just KNOW he loves a good set of long pretty legs. Honestly even if they’re short, I imagine he just likes long pretty legs.

So when he sees his lover in a skirt, their legs looking extra long and pretty, he loses his mind. He is definitely the type to absolutely worship every square inch of your body, so it is rare that you can actually wear skirts or shorts. Your thighs are usually littered with hickeys and bite marks that he is sure to replace every time they fade.

It’s honestly surprising that there isn’t an indent of his shoulders on the back of your thighs with how much time he spends with his head between your legs. Of course there ends up being evidence that he was down there.

He had been busy the past week and you guys haven’t been able to spend much time together and if you did, it was just a quick lunch during his break or you bringing him some coffee at the company or studio.

So, when your boyfriend texts you and asks if you want to come to dinner later, you practically jump up and down at the offer. When you’re getting dressed, you find a skirt that you had completely forgotten that you had and slipped it up your thighs.

You put on a cute fur cardigan and your black skirt and some comfy heels. You made yourself look extra pretty, although it would just be you, Hyunjin, and one of his hometown friends having dinner.

When Hyunjin arrived at your house to pick you up, you stepped out your door at the same time he was stepping up your stairs and he literally freezes at the sight of you. The heels you have on do something for him all in their own (we’ll save this thought for a pt 2…) and your legs look extra long in the combination.

You turn, a bright smile on your face and walk towards your pretty boyfriend. His hair has started getting longer and falling in his eyes so when you walk towards him, stopping at the step above him, you tuck his hair behind his ears and press a kiss to his forehead. He leans up and you press your lips gently against his.

His arms wrap around the top of your thighs, just under your butt and he gently lifts you, turns, and places you on the sidewalk.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he smiles against your lips and you can’t help but smile back at your cute boyfriend.

“I missed you,” you reply and he pulls back to look at your face before pressing a kiss to your temple and humming in agreement.

The entire ride to the restaurant, Hyunjin’s hand never leaves your thigh. His fingers subconsciously toy with the hem of your skirt while he tells you about his past few days and tries to catch you up on all the tea.

He doesn’t even notice your physical reaction to his hand accidentally drifting a bit higher as your skirt rides up, due to your wiggling around in your seat. He parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt before turning his body towards you and placing both his hands on your thighs, the tips of his fingers sliding under your skirt.

He presses his lips to yours again and squeezes your thighs, making you gasp slightly into his mouth. He pulls back and looks at his hands on your thighs before settling back in his seat and getting out the car, quickly circling to open the door for you.

He holds your hand and helps you out of the car before closing the door behind you. He presses his lips to your knuckles quickly before dropping your hand and wrapping his around around your waist, settling on your hip instead.

“I’m so lucky,” he suddenly whispers and you blush. This is something you two often say to each other, both feeling equally as lucky to have each other.

He also loves skirts because of their…easy access. He is definitely the needy type that will just flip your skirt up and pull your panties to the side before fucking the daylights out of you. Whether it’s in the restroom of a restaurant or up against your front door when you’ve barely stepped inside, he likes the thought of being able to get to your pussy whenever he wants.

He loves to lay you back on the bed and eat you out with the skirt pushed up over your belly or laying over his head. He has no problems teasing you and lightly brushing his fingers against your panties at any chance he gets.

He just loves you and your pretty legs and wants to show you!

Han: thigh high socks

Han Jisung! Another one who is a sucker for pretty legs. He thinks that pretty things should be decorated, this includes your thighs.

He didn’t realize that seeing you in thigh high socks would get him going until Halloween came around. You two decided on matching costumes one night and you opted for a corny, overdone option, a sexy nurse and doctor. It was easy enough and the pictures would be cute so you both decided to do it.

Your sexy nurse costumes was complete with a pair of white fishnet thigh highs with red bows on the front of either thigh. Jisung was sat on your bed on his phone when you pulled the socks on and made your way over to your mirror. You pulled on some shoes then went to your vanity to top off your look with the perfect red lipstick.

When you leaned into the mirror, you knocked over some makeup which catches your boyfriend’s attention and he looks up from his phone at you. His view is you from the back, bent into your vanity and those thigh high socks hugging the plush of your thighs perfectly.

His throat ran dry and he gulps deeply before he catches your gaze in the mirror, already looking at him as you rub your lips together.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease and he lets out a soft chuckle before grabbing his phone and snapping a picture of you.

“Hey!” You sit up straight and turn to face him, your hands on your hips, “I was joking!” you smile and make your way towards him. When you place a knee on the bed, his eyes drop back down to the lace hugging the top of your legs.

“Mm. I need to update my jacking off material. You looked a little too good bent over the desk with these on,” he grazes his fingers over the bows of your socks then around the lace then over the fishnets. You pull your other leg up on the bed, careful to leave your shoes off the comforter and place your hands around his neck.

“Oh? You like them Dr, Han?” You tease and he lets out another chuckle, looking up at your face again. That damn lipstick wasn’t making it any easier to not want to fuck you right now and forget about the whole Halloween party.

“I like everything you wear. You could come out in a parka or a burlap sack and I would still get hard,” he confesses and turns his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“What do you like about them?” You ask, innocence lacing your tone, driving him even crazier.

“I’m thinking about how this material would feel on my cock. Especially when you start begging me to stop fucking your thighs and fuck you instead,” he places another kiss, slightly higher up your forearm, “I’m thinking about how this fishnet would feel on either side of my head,” another kiss against the inside of your elbow, then another kiss on your bicep before pulling back to look up at you.

Despite you instigating him originally, you feel yourself turn beet red at his words. He has a dirty, correction: filthy, mouth and he knows exactly how to use it to get you going (in more ways than one).

Jisung loves the way your thighs spill out the top of thigh highs when you sit down. The material barely containing your soft flesh and he just want to bite down on the skin.

If you ever have them on when you two start getting hot and heavy, the socks stay on (bc ur not gay). He rubs himself against the material, sometimes able to cum even if you aren’t there with the help of the sock.

Sometimes, when he’s extra needy, he’ll grab the sock from your hamper or drawer and wrap it around his cock before jacking off. He always feels like a creep afterwards but its the best way he has found to get release when he’s super pent up.

He tries to keep it a secret and you don’t have the heart to tell your cute little perv of a boyfriend that you know. Until, he is going away for a while on tour and opens his suit case to a pair of his favorite thigh highs, the ones from halloween, and a note in your handwriting.

Enjoy, my baby. Send me videos<3

Felix: lace

Okay let me explain. I imagine Felix just being an absolute horny little guy who also enjoys the classics. He LOVES a good set of lingerie. Which slowly turned to him just loving lace. When he sees you in a lace, corset top it doesn’t take much for his imagination to run wild.

Then when you had the audacity to show up to a party with a lace top and leather pants, he thought he was going to have an actual aneurysm. The combination of the leather and lace had him imagining he had just walked into his dream porno, you as the star.

The top was corset style and looked a little too similar to lingerie. When he asked you where you got it from and you leaned into him to whisper that you had ordered it online from a sex shop, he thoughts he was going to cum on the spot.

He could barely keep his hands off of you all night. It only worsened when you had returned to his side after a bout of dancing with some of your friends. His eyes followed a single drop of sweat that rolled down your neck and disappeared down the valley of your breasts and behind your lace shirt. That you ordered…from a sex shop.

When you two had gone shopping and you insisted he come into the dressing room with you, he didn’t think anything of it. You two usually did join each other in fitting rooms and bathrooms visits, call it separation anxiety.

You pulled your shirt over your head and Felix immediately cussed under his breath, making your brow drop to a frown as you threw your shirt to his lap.

“What?” you question and grab the new shirt, pulling it down and turning in the mirror a few times before Felix finally replies to you.

“You’re so fucking hot. Do you realize that? It’s taking everything in my power to not ask you to ride me right here, right now,” he suddenly says and you freeze before slowly turning to face him.

“Oh?” You question, a teasing smirk on your lips as you pull the shirt over your head again and his eyes drop to the black lace bralette again. It doesn’t have much liner and it isn’t helping that he can see your nipples through the bra too. Now that he knew what was under your hoodie, he wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of your day together.

“Yeah. You know how I get when I see you in lace like this,” his voice is low, cautious that nobody outside the fitting room can hear your conversation. You walk towards him and place both hands on his shoulders.

He immediately leans forward and pops the bra against your skin with his teeth. There’s a light knock on the door and you pull away to continue trying on your clothes.

“Oops. Lets save this for when we get home, mister,” you tease and wink at him before pulling down your shorts, your panties match your bra and he groans again, making you smirk to yourself.

What finally sends him over the edge is when his phone vibrates beside him while he’s on a water break. It’s like you can sense when he’s on break and you always text him at the perfect time.

Sunshine: what do ya think? (: <link>

Felix’s jaw might as well have unhinged with how far it fell. The link took him to a site with a baby blue lingerie set. It was all lace with a few flowers strategically embroidered. He had to take a deep breath and stare at the picture for a while, trying his best to not get hard.

Sunshine: left on read? no likey?

The notification pops up at the tops of his screen and he realizes that he hasn’t replied to you after practically instantly reading your message.

Lixieee: i dont like. i love. i’m hard now. thanks<3

You simply loved the message and placed the order, excited for your new set to come in.

Seungmin: spandex shorts/biker shorts

It isn’t anything crazy and Seungmin swears he isn’t a perv. He just knows his baby is hot and knows what you have the capability of doing to him. He’s just a little obsessed with you.

You two were still best friends when he realized he had a thing for you in these tight little shorts. You had came to his house to just hangout. You weren’t looking too special, opting for some biker shorts and a hoodie and pulling your hair up into a messy updo.

He opens the door and you immediately hold your hand out to him, handing him the coffee you had picked up for him on the way.

“Hey, cutie,” you tease and step into his house before sliding your sneakers off and heading towards the living room. With your back turned, he got the opportunity to sneak a peak at your ass.

The biker shorts you had on left practically nothing to the imagination and he actually thinks he felt his heart stop when you bent over and he could make out the shape of your most private area through the shorts.

Okay maybe he was a perv.

“I like those shorts,” he comments and steps into the room before settling on the couch. You quickly plop down next to him.

“These shorts are a hit,” you comment nonchalantly and he looks over at you, waiting for you to elaborate. You chuckle and take a sip of your coffee.

“I wore these to the gym the other day with when I hit legs with Binnie and he said the same thing,” you reply and Seungmin feels himself clench his jaw at the thought of someone else looking at you the same way he had just been.

And you hit legs with him? Does that mean that he saw you squatting in these tight little shorts. Does that mean that he also saw you bending over the same way he just had? Had Changbin also made out the shape of your sweet cunt the same way he had? He turns away from you again to face the front.

You grab his arm and push it up to the back of the couch, scooting close to him and laying your legs over his thigh that was closest to you.

“What? Jealous?” you tease and Seungmin chuckles humorlessly at the accusation.

“Extremely.” He deadpans and glances over at you, your smile dropping at his confession.

“W-Why is that?” He threw you off with actually confessing to being jealous. You were used to him just teasing you back and you two bickering endlessly but never this.

“Because he got to see what’s mine,” he replies and shrugs and you open your mouth to reply but can’t think of the right words to say as a blush creeps up your neck at his words.

You definitely lose any sense of words when his hand drops to your bare thigh and starts kneading at the flesh. His hand creeps a little closer to your core and your legs fall apart slightly, granting him access. He lets out a laugh at how pliable you’re being and leans forward, setting his coffee on the table in front of you.

“No objections to that statement?” he raises his eyebrows at you and you snap your mouth closed before shaking your head.

“You can’t use your words, pup?” The nickname wasn’t anything new from him but the way his hand was rubbing your upper thigh and the way he is slowly leaning into you had your heart racing even more.

“Kiss me,” you command instead and he complies, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

I.N: his clothes

Maybe it’s his possessive side but when Jeongin sees you in his clothes, his brain goes haywire. Sometimes he thinks you look so cute, especially if the clothes are swallowing you up. But sometimes, it makes him want to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

The first time you wore his clothes, it was completely unintentional. You two had just started dating and hadn’t taken many big steps in your relationship. So it was much to your, and Jeongin’s, surprise when you drunkenly called him while out with your friends.

You were practically begging him to come pick you up because you missed him and he couldn’t help but comply. He pulled up to the bar and you quickly made your way outside and sat down in his warm car. You smelled like straight liquor and vomit and Jeongin’s nose scrunched at the smell before he looked over at you.

“I didn’t throw up. I swear. Some stranger threw up on me and my friends didn’t want to leave yet. Can we go back to your house? I don’t have my keys…” you caught yourself about to ramble and trailed off but Jeongin just giggled at you.

“Of course,” he replies and put the car in drive before making his way to his house. Once you got there you asked if you could take a shower and borrow some clothes and he readily agreed. He sat out some shorts and a t shirt on the sink while you were in the shower and stepped back out to wait on you.

When you entered his room, he had to do everything in his power to not get hard. He had given you one of his comfiest t shirts, which also meant it was huge and it literally went almost down to your elbows.

“Come on, drunky,” he teases and lifts the blanket next to him. You blush and crawl into the bed next to him. He hands you a bottle of water and you take a few sips before handing it back to him and settling into his side.

“I’m sorry. Is this weird for you? If it is, I can go home. I know you want to take things slow but I don’t know how you feel about-”

“Y/n. Sweetheart,” he interrupts you and you snap your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. He grabs under your chin and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes his toothpaste on your lips and for some reason, that also gets him going. The thought that if anyone else were to taste your lips, that they would taste like him.

“You look so pretty in my clothes,” he pulls away to say against your lips and you chuckle before leaning in to kiss him once more.

The way that you two got caught in your relationship was actually because of a tiny little detail. It stemmed from the two of you sharing clothes.

He had gotten a custom bracelet made for himself that was literally one of a kind in the world. You had gotten dressed up to go out and forgotten to put on a bracelet at your house so you asked your boyfriend if he could bring you one to make your outfit better. He agreed of course and later when you posted pictures on social media (pc: innie), you had the bracelet on. Stay was quick to zoom in and notice that it was the same custom bracelet that Jeongin usually wore.

[lemon-boy-stan]

Genshin men as your husband's and boyfriends and telling them "fuck you"

Smutty. Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Wriothesley. Warnings: swearing, knife play, mentions of breeding, use of handcuffs, monster fucking. A/N: I am a big believer of Wrio using cuffs.

DILUC

"Yeah?!" Diluc yelled back. "YEAH!" you screamed, "fuck you, Ragnivdr!" Diluc went quiet for a moment, making you freeze. His eyes flashed bright red as he rolled his tongue across the inside of his left cheek. "Fuck me, huh?" You bit your lower lip. "Master Diluc..." But he wasn't having any of it today. "I was just trying. To keep you safe. And you're using such vile language on me, hmm?"

"Master Diluc, please, I -" He cut you off, "You will stay home, and you won't be going on this commission." You opened your mouth again, "but-" his eyes flared once more and you shut it. "You are staying home. And perhaps, after today, you'll have another reason to stay home, hmm? Watch your language, darling, our future children can't hear you say such foul things."

KAEYA

"Oh, fuck you, Alberich!" You made your way for the door before shrieking, Kaeya's hand gripping your wrist so tight that his fingers left little half-moon marks on your skin, and you knew he was angry. "Fuck me, huh?" He whispered the words in your ears, biting the tip of it, making you arch your back. "How about I fuck you?"

Kaeya unsheathed his sword, pressing the cool metal on the skin under your sundress. You moaned softly, throwing your head back, backing up against the closed door of his office. "Kaeya," you moaned, making him smirk. "Please."

CHILDE

"FUCK YOU, AJAX!" Tartaglia laughed loudly, wringing his hands. "Fuck me? Aren't you normally the one screaming that in this relationship?" You ignored him, "shut up. You're so annoying, you got us lost, you-" his lips crashed on yours. "Be quiet, Comrade. Or we're going to be found."

You moaned softly into his lips, feeling his hard-on against the soft material of your dress. You whined, "fuck me please, Tartaglia." He cackled lowly into the kiss, "mm, that's what I thought." Sliding his pants down, pushing you into the tree behind you.

ZHONGLI

"What did you just say to me?" Zhongli's eyes flashed golden. You bit your lip, whispering, "I - I said f - fuck you." Zhongli snarled, and you could've sworn there was smoke coming from his nose and suddenly he was in front of you, towering over you, gripping your waist harder than usual. You looked down and gasped, staring at his now black and golden arms and hands.

"M-Morax," you mumbled. Zhongli snarled again, pressing into you, biting your neck harshly, making you squeal loudly. "You'll be punished for that, my little Qingxing."

WRIOTHESLEY

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Wriothesley roared. You screamed back at him, "I'll do whatever I please! And not only am I going to say "shut up", I'm going to say fuck you, too, Mr. Perfect Duke!" Wriothesley growled and you shrieked loudly as he picked you up with his big, strong hands, lifting you as if you were a featherweight.

Wriothesley bent you over his desk, grabbing both your arms behind your back and slapping his handcuffs on your wrists, the metal making your toes curl. You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and his pants dropping to the floor. He chuckled softly, "do you want to think twice before saying such cruel things to me, my dear?"

First time writing for Wrio and Zhongli! Hope you like it, they both have a chokehold on me HAHAHA.

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[pursuitseternal]

“Release Me:” ⛓️ Chains and feral smut ⛓️ for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 2K

“Chains” prompt for Ascended Astarion Week

Summary: After weeks of captivity and starvation, you finally rescue your love from his enemies. But the beast chained in the cell barely knows himself or you… until you’ve satisfied all his hungers.

CW: Blood kink (I just wanted a reason to have them fuck covered in blood), Feral/primal play, desperate sex, long nailed AA, prison sex, bondage/mild BDSM

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥

Musty, dark, dead. The bowels of the Red Wizard’s tower are worse than a dungeon. Not a speck of light, no slight hint of breeze. It is a tomb. A coffin. And inside somewhere is your love.

You can feel him, his blood calling to you, even as his mind has unraveled these long weeks of capture. You get fleeting images of his senses: the wide-eyed fear in his chest to be imprisoned in the dark. Away from his beloved sun. The racing pant of his breath to be so enclosed, not unlike that year he never speaks of under Cazador’s torment. Locked away. You feel the stinging of silver chains gnawing at his flesh, burning just enough to sap his strength, but not so strong as to kill him.

This was meant for pain, constructed for punishment, to hold him until his enemies would kill him. Your beloved. Your lord and king and master, overthrown by his foolish need for more power. You told him not to go alone to seek the remnants of the Red Wizards of Thay… you warned him they would want their tome returned and would punish him for knowledge of it.

Even the decrepit remnants of a failed cult can win from time to time.

Your chest burns as you try to catch your breath, your skin and armor slick with the blood of your enemies. But your feet propel forward regardless, pulled by the tether of your bond to Astarion.

You heave a sigh of relief to finally find the cells, thick black doors almost indecipherable in the darkness. A little daylight spell, and your eyes adjust to find a dozen doors carved from the bedrock of this damnable tower. The rattling of metal links, the rough snarls of breath grows louder as you close your eyes and follow the ragged beat of his ascended heart.

Hand shaking, you pull out a Knock spell scroll, a sigh of relief that your own Wizard companion of old had prepared you to take on these foes. Even as your fingers stick to the parchment, hands soaked in blood, you recite the word, and the edge of the cell door glows bright white for a moment.

Resonant, it creaks open on its ancient hinges, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes and the crescendo of dry-throated breath. His body drags across the floor towards your daylight, and your heart bursts with ache to finally see him again. Tears sting your eyes.

Paperwhite and beyond deathly pale, his gaunt face leers at you from the darkness. Lines of red, of raw flesh cross his neck and bare arms and legs where he has been chained.

Chained naked.

Your bile rises in your stomach as you curse his captors souls, glad you have already put those Wizards to a bloody, eviscerating death. You’d do it all again, just to punish them for how they’ve tortured your love. Breathing his name, you enter his cell, the walls of black stone absorbing the light of your spell, it seems. But it gives off enough for you to see every line of his hollowed face, every crest of his bony frame.

Astarion twists against his chains, his mind a pulsing mess of feelings and words, too feral to even speak yet. But one word comes across clearly.

Blood.

His nostrils flare, his tongue dangling over his fangs as he scans your spattered armor. A predator with the scent of prey in his nose.

There’s blood in the air…

He’s too hungry, too starved for blood and for you to be safe. Not with they way his eyes are wild and his tongue laps at his jaw. “Astarion,” you speak, making his black-blown eyes focus on you. “I’m here my love,” you reach a hand out to caress his silver hair, but he just snaps his fangs at you once you're in reach. Those silver chains holding him just shy of disaster.

“Naughty,” you try to chide him, but the humor is lost on his hungry body and soul. Mind racing, your feet race faster, hands finding the closest fallen enemy to drag it back after you down the hall. Then you leave it, ignoring the muffled grunts and growls and slurps he makes as he drains the corpse completely.

When you glance back inside, he looks at you, steadier, calmer, and covered in blood. He still crouches on the ground, hands and feet and neck bound, but now he croaks your name. “Darling,” his voice pains you with recognition, “I knew you’d come.”

You hurry to his side, kicking that light, bloodless corpse to the side. The silver chains at his ankles sting you, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of separation you have endured for weeks. You pull the silver apart in your hands, freeing his legs so he can stretch them out at long last.

A deep grunt of relief sounds from his chest. Your hands work up and down one leg, then the other, trying to soothe the tension and numbness and blood flow.

As you reach the top of his thighs, you withdraw in surprise. His cock achingly hard, juts against his belly, twitching and pink and… happy to see you too.

“I have missed you,” his voice caresses your ear and rushes down your spine, the chains at his neck clinking their high-pitched music as he leans against you. Nose buried in your hair, he inhales your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “I can’t wait another moment, my love.” His voice unearthly, barely more than a growl, his hands chained near his belly reach into your armor.

You notice his nails, literally clawing for you, seeking your flesh. Nails, so long unkempt, have taken on their wild form, the razor sharp talons of a vampire lord. “I was so worried…. I missed you, my love,” you sigh, an edge of fear in your belly as you long to kiss those bloodstained lips with your own. Ignoring the sting, you grab the silver chain, a little yank to tug at him, making a playful, aroused smirk turn his dripping, scarlet lips as his body draws closer.

“I am master of myself once more,” his brows cant rakishly, even in the dark. “I won’t bite unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he croons straining against your leash.

“Oh, I think you're asking for more than a nibble,” you tease to release some of the fear that still lingers in your veins. Never have you been separated from him since you turned, and never, not even during the Rite of Ascension and your fight against his old master have you feared his death more than these past weeks. Floodgates break, your need to touch him and taste him overpowering all logic and fear.

Your fingers work quickly, unlatching your breastplate and cuisses, eyes locked into his as he watches your every move, tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. You let the metal clang to the floor. Those two restrained hands extend for you, making the chains around his arms hiss as the magic sears more into his flesh anew.

“Hold still,” you order, crouching to grab the chains and tug them free from his flesh, his wounds instantly closing up now that he is well-fed once more.

For all the pain that must be lancing through his body, he just holds your stare with his own, sultry and feral and commanding. “Now, where were we?” he purrs, hands trembling to finally touch your body. Even with sapped strength, he pulls you flush against him, bringing you close. Slotting you in your place against his body. Those blood-caked claws dig into the supple cover of your leathers, tearing through it at your hips and down the seams as though they are paper. You’ll worry about decency later, for now you’re of one mind, unable to think until you’ve joined again.

You sink your body onto his cock, and he sinks his fangs into your blood-spattered neck. Your groans bounce off the pitch black walls, a roar of bliss and relief and release. No more fear or danger, aside from the fear of coming too quickly and the danger of spending hours fucking once more, covered in the drying gore of your foes.

The thought tickles from your mind to his, and he laughs as he thrusts up into you. “Just like old times,” he rasps between swallows from your neck.

Like old times, like every time, your body follows its instincts, finally filled with what you have most craved. His cock stretches you, a nearly unfamiliar pressure once more, but you hardly notice, not with how dripping wet you’ve become just to feel his breath on your neck and savor his muscled frame thrusting into you.

Tears prick at your eyes but you won’t let them wash that blood from your cheeks. No, you just grip into his hair, pulling his mouth from the puncture wounds in your neck to your own waiting lips. The copper tang of your blood floods your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, the familiar taste of your own blood mixing with the nasty pollution of your enemies’ he drained earlier.

It sours your stomach, the taste, but you’re too lost in the way his breath warms you, inside and out. Those long, feral nails score into your back, wandering quickly between your writhing bodies. With low, rumbling growls into your mouth, he grips your waist, moving you and holding you in place as he fucks harder. More erratic. More hellsbent on that release he needs.

His voice fills your ear, “My Consort, my love, my pet, my saviour,” he pours your beloved epithets over you, breath ragged and out of synch with his roughly snapping hips. One hand lies splayed on the stone behind him, that extra leverage driving him deeper with abandon. He’s thickening inside you, so hot and too quickly.

“Don’t get carried away,” you chide, yanking at the chain around his neck, making his crimson eyes stare at you with lust-blown pupils. “You haven’t even given me a reward yet for my daring bravery, my love.” You make him hiss, his slack mouth baring his fangs in pleasure-ridden pain. “And you haven’t even granted me an apology for running headlong into this… foolishness,” you cock your chin and tug his chain-leash again. “Promise me, no more ludicrous missions without me.”

He growls but nods, hands digging at your ass, not one hint of resistance.

“Then I’m satisfied, well…” you wriggle, clenching your walls on his throbbing cock inside you, “soon to be satisfied.” A laugh shared on both your panting lips, you ride his lap, bringing him back under a steady rhythm, drawing out his pleasure until you’ve had yours as well. He pulls against his last remaining chain, and you tut your tongue. One of your hands brings his fingers into the apex of your thighs, coaxing his finger to circle your clit with every buck. Your other hand releases that leash, freeing it from his flesh at last so you can grab his chin. Then you lick… long and cleansing, tasting the remnants of your blood, and your enemies’, and faint traces of his own.

That warm tip of his tongue laps at the corner of his lips, his breath heavy as he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. Spine arching, hips canting fervently, you scream for him, tears in your throat and down your face at last, as if you didn’t believe you’d ever be brought to orgasm by him again. Sharp nails score into the sensitive flesh of your folds, hips slamming into your last waves of pleasure as he spills inside you, spurt after spurt of his seed filling you and leaking to the prison floor beneath you both.

Crimson eyes glance up at you, wild and sated, hungry and happy all at once. “Get me home, my Consort,” he whispers. “You’ll be coming on my cock in our bed next.”

You smirk, breathless, pulling out a scroll to open a portal to your palace. As you stand, you kick the chains at your feet with your boot, thankful he’s released into your care once more.

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

💞 to @marimosalad and @nyx-knox

[tinietaehyun]

Wondrous Tales

[Wonderland!txt x lost!reader] [one-shot series]

Pairing(s): wonderland!txt! x lost!reader

Genre(s): fantasy, dark fantasy, romance, supernatural, thriller, one-shots.

Contains: (specific to each one-shot)

Links: Masterlist

Summary: Upon your stroll in the park, you stumble upon an envelope on the grass. With further inspection, it appears to be an invite of sorts. How peculiar indeed.

Wonderland? What was that? Did someone accidentally drop an invite for a birthday or costume party on their way?

Brimming with curiosity, you open up the flap to peek inside. Initially there seems to be no name, huh, it’s not addressed to anyone. Then why…

Before you could even finish your thought, you begin to see the world around you warp and twist as you soon come to realise the dire consequences of your insatiable curiosity.

Perhaps you should have left that damn invite alone because now, you were stuck in a whole other whimsical and whacky world with no idea how to get out!

Luckily (or unluckily) for you, you’ll meet some rather interesting people along your journey to leave. Though….dear reader, will you successfully escape or become ensnared by the five lovely figures of Wonderland?

1. The White Rabbit - Choi Soobin

➸ “The timekeeper of Wonderland, no matter how efficient he is, he is destined to run late. A timid soul who has always led guests to their doom, there’s not much he can do about it after all.”

Summary: With your abrupt arrival into this whimsical space, you wander around aimlessly. How odd, every turn you took, you ended up in the same spot.

Though as they say, third time’s the charm, when you encounter a blonde haired man, with a top hat and formal attire - goodness, were you going insane already?

The man gives you a gentle smile, walking towards you with his hand outstretched, “Goodness it’s been awhile since we’ve had any guests,” he observes you, “A pretty one no less.” That‘s it, you were definitely going insane.

He brings your hand to his lips with a soft gaze, “You must be so frazzled, guests always are. Well it’s my pleasure to be your guide. Now, come on, chop, chop, time’s ticking.” With a swift tug, you’re getting pulled along by this strangely tall man. What had you gotten yourself into?

Read here!

2. The King Of Hearts - Choi Yeonjun

➸ “A ruthless, flirtatious man with a dramatic flare who has quite the fondness for new guests. So much so, half don’t even make it out. He’s always looking for entertainment and wishes to be the centre of attention, so always make sure you give him what he wants.”

Summary: You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior. A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. You wonder what happened to him, everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next you saw him getting dragged away!

The guards shove you through a set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees. Peering up, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue.

“Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” He smirks almost too sweetly with a flick of his wrist, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

Read here!

3. The March Hare- Huening Kai

➸ “Tea, tea, tea. It’s always tea time for him. Time for tea? Or is it tea’s time to be had? Don’t ever refuse his offer for tea, or you’ll find yourself perpetually mad.”

Summary: Gasping and panting raggedly for breath, you seemed to have done good by sliding down the fluorescent tunnel as a last resort! The King’s guards almost caught you!

What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seemed secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

“Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

You had a feeling you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to.

Read Here!

4. The Mad Hatter - Choi Beomgyu

➸ “His pretty face hides the most decrepit madness. A man who killed time, quite literally. Is being mad so bad? Is being bad so mad? Why be suppressed with all those boring rules and go insane with the Hatter instead?”

Summary: Having managed to elude the tea party and trick Kai into thinking you’ll stay, you scramble for your life by bargaining with a strange caterpillar hanging from the trees to escape.

Being barely lucid, you stumble into what seems to be another secluded grove, another tea party. Oh, you were definitely mad by this point. Not again! You see exuberant host with his feet up on the table with a grin, “Welcome, welcome, do come and join me, little love. I have lots of tea or are you sick of it from the March Hare?”

Panicked you rush off past him, he makes no move to chase after you. How strange. “Toodles, love!” Grimacing you rush off through the tangled foliage….only to arrive back to where you were facing the man again. A loop…?

“Time’s prisoner I am, and so you will be too. I’m awfully lonely and the hare’s fed up of my games. You’ll play with me and keep this Hatter company won’t you?”

Read here!

5. The Cheshire Cat - Kang Taehyun

➸ “A man with hypnotic eyes and a killer smile, almost uncanny in its slyness. A man who likes to toy with his prey and use his wit to outsmart any and who dare to trespass his woods. He isn’t mad like the others, no, under his grin, hides someone smarter than everyone in Wonderland.”

Summary: You break the loop and take the Hatter off guard by your boldness, managing to somehow bypass his riddles and games. With all your remaining strength, you run deliriously, where? You don’t know.

All you know is the thousands of signs reading and pointing to an “exit” were taunting you. You couldn’t believe them. Not anymore, you couldn’t believe anyone, or anything in this world. You were not stupid enough to follow those damn signs and so, you go the opposite path. Into the Dark Woods.

Finding yourself even more lost and the last of your sanity crumbling away, the pollen in the air making you feel hazy, you’re startled to hear a voice, “Well, well, well, what a pretty thing has stepped into my woods today. Has no one told you I don’t like trespassers, hm?” Your eyes snap up to a man lounging in the branches above with a wide grin, “Don’t look so scared, I don’t bite too hard.”

Read Here

Taglist: [CLOSED]

@naoristerling @staaaarykids @tremendousphantommiracle @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @baekberrie @syraphyina @fullbodyblankets @soohashits @f4iryfever @themochiverse @atiny-chocolate-chip @nothingwithoutgyu @ethystclove @hancafe @nap-of-a-starr @isa942572 @evn-09 @ninitorih @m3chigo @tenleeluvr-blog @matcha-binz @soobunnymoa @sleepyygyu @nicngyu @vicurious28 @kurokkkiko0 @zyoopioo @noraimp @bvqler @lailols @iiisusy @astridxxxx @kookiesbunny @scrumptiousloser

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Forever beyond

This one-shot is written purely for the last part of the story (only 740 words), but the story itself got a little bigger, so it became nearly 16k words.. 🫠 Twisted ver. of maiden, mother, crone

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio, mainly fem Reader X Agatha

Warning: Depictions of birth (which I've no idea if I did right), blood and character death that may be disturbing to some readers

The moon hung heavy in the inky sky, its silver light slicing through the thick trees. Agatha griped your hand tightly, her blue eyes darting back and forth as the two of you ran through the underbrush. Each step sent tremors through your body, your other hand clutching your heavily pregnant belly.

“Agatha,” you panted, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “I—I can’t… we need to stop.”

“We can’t stop!” Agatha yelled, though her tone was tinged with worry. Her grip on your hand tightened, her own breath ragged. “We’re almost there. Just a little further, love.”

You whimpered, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you stumble. Agatha caught you, steadying you before pulling you along again. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest, and your swollen belly felt impossibly heavy.

Ahead of you, the shadows shifted, alive with something unnatural. Agatha’s jaw clenched, her glowing hands sparking with magic as she glanced behind you. “Don’t look back,” she whispered harshly. “Keep moving.”

But the pain became unbearable. You cried out, doubling over and clutching your stomach. Agatha froze, her face twisting with fear as she turned back to you. “Love, you have to—”

“I can’t!” you sobbed, your knees buckling. “The baby… something’s wrong. It’s too much.”

Before Agatha could answer, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead. Clad in black, with raven hair gleaming under the moonlight, she stepped into the clearing. Her dark eyes shimmered with an unsettling calm, though her face carried the weight of sorrow.

“Rio,” Agatha snarled, her voice thick with rage and desperation.

Rio—your Rio, your lover, and Death—stood motionless. Her presence was an unbearable weight, the air chilling around her. “It’s time,” she said softly, her voice hollow. “You know I can’t fight this.”

“Like hell you can’t!” Agatha hissed, stepping protectively in front of you as you trembled and whimpered in pain on the ground. “You’re not taking them. You’re not taking either of them!”

Rio’s gaze flickered between you and Agatha, and for a moment, her mask slipped. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Agatha… I don’t want this. Do you think I want this?”

“Then stay back!” Agatha snapped, her voice venomous as her magic surged. A violet shockwave rippled through the clearing, forcing Rio a step back. “You don’t get to touch her!”

Rio raised her hands, her voice trembling with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “Agatha, please. I just want to—”

“No!” Agatha cut her off, her eyes blazing with tears and fury. “You think I’ll let you take her? Take our child? Over my dead body.”

Rio’s dark eyes softened, and her voice faltered. “Agatha,” she whispered. “I don’t want to take her. You know that.”

“Then leave!” Agatha’s magic flared again, cracking through the clearing like thunder. The shadows around Rio wavered, but she didn’t retreat fully. “If you come any closer, I’ll destroy you. I swear I will.”

Rio’s shoulders tense, her face a mask of anguish. “Agatha, I can’t just walk away. I didn’t choose this. It’s fate. The Fate… it’s stronger than I am.”

“Then fight it!” Agatha screamed, tears streaming down her face. “If you ever loved her—if you ever loved me—you’ll stay away.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists as her shadowy form flickers. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I don’t want to break this? I have loved you both more than you’ll ever know, but I can’t defy Fate.”

“You can,” Agatha growled, her voice raw and ragged. “You’re just too much of a coward to try.”

You cry out again, clutching at your belly as a fresh wave of pain tears through you. Agatha immediately dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Stay with me, love,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against yours. “I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear and pain. “Agatha… I don’t want to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she promised fiercely, her voice breaking. Her hands glowed brighter as she channelled her magic, pouring every ounce of her strength into you.

Rio stepped forward again, her dark form wavering as she kneeled near your side. Agatha’s head snapped up, her hand shooting out as another wave of magic struck Rio square in the chest, sending her backward.

“I said stay away!” Agatha roared, her voice thick with rage. “You don’t get to touch her!”

Rio rose slowly, her shadowy form flickering. “Agatha, I can’t do anything,” she said, her voice raw. “If I don’t guide her… if I don’t do this, it could cost both of them.”

“You’re lying!” Agatha screamed, her magic lashing out again, though Rio steadied herself against the impact. “You’re Death! All you do is take! You don’t help anyone!”

Rio flinched but didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped back into the edge of the shadows, her voice soft but firm. “Do what you can, Agatha. I’ll give you time. But I can’t hold this off forever.”

Agatha didn’t waste another second. Her magic surged, brighter and more desperate than ever, as she pressed her glowing hands to your belly. Tears streaked her face as she whispered frantic promises, her voice cracking with emotion.

“You’re staying with me,” she murmurs, her forehead pressed against yours. “Both of you. You’re not leaving me. I won’t let her have you.”

The forest hummed with power, Agatha’s magic blazing like fire as she fought against the inevitable.

And though Death lingered, watching from the shadows, Agatha refused to give up. She would fight until the last spark of her magic burned out—for you, for your child, for the life the three of you had built together.

No matter the cost.

Agatha’s hands trembled as the faint purple glow pulsed from her palms, weaving fragile tendrils of magic around your swollen belly. Each flicker of light was a plea, a desperate attempt to hold onto both you and the unborn child she had promised to protect. Sweat beaded on Agatha’s forehead, her dark curls sticking to her skin as her magic strained under the weight of her determination.

Your breaths came in shallow, laboured gasps, your eyes fluttering open just enough to meet hers. Fear clouded your gaze, tears mingling with the sheen of sweat on your flushed cheeks. “Agatha,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling. “I’m scared.”

Agatha’s chest tightened as if your words had physically struck her. “Don’t be, love,” she murmured, though her own fear pressed against her ribs like a vice. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just hold on for me.”

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, weak but trusting, as your trembling hand reached up to brush against her face. “You always say that,” you whispered, your voice a ghost of its usual warmth. “And I believe you.”

The glow of Agatha’s magic faltered momentarily, dimming as exhaustion crept in. Panic surged through her veins like fire. “No,” she hissed, her tone sharp as she refocused, pouring more of herself into the spell. “You’re not leaving me. Not like this.”

Behind her, Rio lingered, a cold weight pressing against the clearing as her presence loomed. Agatha didn’t need to turn around to know she was there, silent and watchful. The thought made her fury burn brighter, her determination more unrelenting.

“Stop hovering,” Agatha snapped, her voice biting even as her attention remained fixed on you. “You’re not taking her. Not now, not ever.”

Rio stepped closer, her dark eyes unreadable as she knelt beside the two of you. The air chilled further as her raven hair shimmered in the dim light of Agatha’s magic. “You’re fighting against nature, Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice calm but laden with sorrow. “Even your magic has limits.”

“Shut up,” Agatha growled, her violet energy flaring like a flame fed by gasoline. “I’ll decide when I’ve hit my limit, not you.”

Rio exhaled slowly, her hand twitching as though she wanted to reach for you but restrained herself. Her voice cracked with emotion. “Do you think this is what I want? To stand here, powerless, while you break yourself trying to save her?” She swallowed hard. “Do you think I want to take her from you? From us?”

“Then don’t,” Agatha bit out, her voice as sharp as a blade, cutting through the tension like steel. “Walk away, Rio. Just this once.”

Rio’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver. “You know it doesn’t work like that,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with helplessness. “Fate doesn’t care about what I want.”

A sharp cry from you pulled their attention back to where you lay. Your body convulsed slightly, your hands clawing weakly at the earth as pain wracked your form. “Agatha,” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “The baby…”

Agatha’s heart shattered at the sound of your pain. “I’m here, love,” she said urgently, her hands glowing brighter as she pushed everything she had into stabilising you. “I’m right here. I won’t let you go.”

“She’s slipping,” Rio said softly, her voice almost inaudible over the hum of Agatha’s magic. “Agatha, you need to make a choice.”

“I already made my choice!” Agatha snarled, her magic flaring violently, illuminating the clearing in a burst of violet light. “I’m saving them both.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she moved closer, her hands hovering hesitantly over your stomach. A faint green glow began to emanate from her palms as she channelled her energy into supporting Agatha’s spell.

“What are you doing?” Agatha demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Helping,” Rio said simply, her tone devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “You’re not the only one who loves her, Agatha.”

The admission sent a jolt through Agatha, but there was no time to dwell on it. Together, their magic wove a fragile cocoon around you, a blend of purple and green light that pulsed rhythmically with the faint heartbeat of your child.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as the two women worked in silence, their energies entwined in a delicate balance. Your breathing began to steady, the sharp cries of pain fading into soft whimpers as the tension in your body eased.

Finally, Agatha collapsed back onto her heels, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “She’s stable,” she whispered hoarsely. “For now.”

Rio remained kneeling, her gaze fixed on your peaceful face, her expression unreadable. “You bought her time,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t over.”

Agatha’s blue eyes burned as she turned to Rio. “Then we keep buying her time,” she said, her voice resolute. “As much as it takes.”

Rio hesitated, her gaze dropping to your belly. “Agatha,” she began, her voice low and measured. “If it comes down to it… if you have to choose—”

“I won’t,” Agatha interrupted fiercely, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “Don’t you dare ask me to.”

Rio met her gaze evenly, sadness and resolve etched into her features. “You might not have a choice.”

“I always have a choice,” Agatha snapped, her fists clenching as fresh tears burned her eyes. “And I’ll find another way. I always do.”

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, but the stillness was broken when your fingers twitched and your lips parted with a faint murmur. Agatha immediately leaned forward, brushing a damp curl from your forehead. “I’m here, love,” she whispered, her voice softening. “We’re both here.”

Rio reached out hesitantly, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’re safe,” she said softly. “We’ve got you.”

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused but filled with a faint glimmer of recognition. A weak smile tugged at your lips as you looked between them. “You… you’re both here,” you murmured faintly.

Agatha pressed a kiss to your forehead, her tears mingling with the sweat on your skin. “Always,” she said firmly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nodded silently, her hand lingering on your shoulder as she exchanged a look with Agatha. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the two women shared a moment of unspoken understanding.

No matter what lay ahead, they would face it together.

And for you, they would fight until their last breath.

The cottage was tucked deep into the woods, shrouded in the earthy embrace of ancient trees and the faint hum of magic that Agatha had woven around its perimeter. The air inside was warm, the faint scent of herbs and candles lingering from spells cast earlier in the day. The soft glow of a fire crackled in the stone hearth, its light casting flickering shadows on the walls.

You rested in a small bed nestled against the corner of the room, bundled in blankets. The tension in your body had eased since Agatha and Rio brought you here, but your movements were still slow, your breaths faint and uneven. Agatha had barely left your side since they’d arrived, her hand often resting on yours, as if her touch alone could anchor you to the mortal world.

Rio stood in the doorway, her dark eyes scanning the room as though she didn’t belong there. She lingered, silent but watchful, her presence heavy with something unspoken. Agatha's shoulders tensed every time her gaze flicked toward you, her hand instinctively tightening over yours.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Agatha snapped, not looking up from where she was adjusting the edge of your blanket. Her voice was sharp, brimming with the exhaustion of someone who had barely slept in days. “Or do you have something useful to say?”

Rio stepped further into the room, the firelight catching the glint of her raven hair. “I came to check on her,” she said evenly, her tone measured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d let me.”

“Let you?” Agatha scoffed, finally lifting her eyes to glare at Rio. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw you out of the forest entirely.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, her gaze softened as it settled on you. “She’s still weak. If there’s anything I can do—”

“You’ve done enough,” Agatha interrupted, her voice dropping to a low growl. She shifted slightly, her body moving to shield you from Rio’s view. “I’m not letting you anywhere near her.”

Rio’s brow furrowed, her expression twisting with something between hurt and frustration. “Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice almost pleading. “You know I’m not here to take her soul. If I wanted to… it would’ve happened already.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that?” Agatha hissed, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “After everything? After you stood there in the clearing, ready to let fate take her from me?”

“I didn’t want to—” Rio started, but her voice faltered as she caught the venom in Agatha’s glare. She sighed, the weight of her eternal role hanging heavily on her shoulders. “You think I had a choice. You always think that. But I didn’t.”

“You always have a choice!” Agatha snapped, her voice rising as she stood, her posture stiff and protective. “You just chose wrong.”

The tension between them thickened, the unspoken wounds of their fractured relationship rising to the surface. Rio’s hands clenched at her sides, and she took a step back, her dark eyes glimmering with frustration. “You think this is easy for me?” she asked, her voice low. “Do you think it doesn’t kill me to see her like this? To see us like this?”

Agatha laughed bitterly, though there was no humour in it. “Don’t you dare make this about you,” she spat. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself. Not when she’s the one who nearly died because of you.”

Your fingers twitched weakly against the blanket, and Agatha immediately knelt beside you, her attention snapping back to you as though you were the only thing supporting her. “Love,” she murmured, her voice softening as her hand brushed your cheek. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes slowly, your gaze hazy as you blinked up at her. “Agatha,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Rio… is she—?”

“She’s here,” Agatha said quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line as her other hand ran through your hair. “But you don’t need to worry about her. She’s not going to touch you.”

Rio stepped closer, her footsteps hesitant. “I wouldn’t hurt her voluntarily,” she said softly, though her words were directed more at you than Agatha. “You know I wouldn’t.”

Agatha’s eyes flashed, and she turned her head sharply to glare at Rio. “Don’t come any closer,” she growled, her magic crackling faintly in the air around her. “I’m warning you.”

Rio froze, her dark eyes filled with something that looked like regret. “Agatha—”

“Don’t test me,” Agatha snarled, her voice low and dangerous. “I’ll fight you again if I have to.”

You weakly reached for Agatha’s hand, your fingers curling around hers in an effort to ease the tension. “Stop,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please… don’t fight.”

Agatha’s expression softened immediately as she turned back to you, her shoulders relaxing as she leaned closer. “I’m sorry, love,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Rio remained where she was, her hands clenched at her sides. She looked at you, her gaze heavy with longing, but she didn’t dare take another step. “I just want to help,” she said quietly. “If you’ll let me.”

Agatha didn’t respond, her focus entirely on you as she brushed a stray curl from your forehead. Her voice was a murmur, meant only for you. “I’m not letting her take you. Not now, not ever.”

Rio lingered in the doorway, the distance between her and the two of you feeling impossibly vast. The rift between them remained, but in the quiet of the cottage, the weight of their love—for you and each other— was like a fragile thread, threatening to snap with the slightest tension.

And as the fire crackled softly, you closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling you under again. Agatha’s touch remained a constant anchor, but even in the haze of sleep, you could feel the heavy presence of Rio, watching from a distance, unable to leave but unable to stay.

The dim light of the realm flickered as Agatha paced back and forth, her blue eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. Tendrils of purple magic sparked at her fingertips, crackling in the heavy air like distant thunder. Each step she took reverberated with the weight of her emotions. On the other side of the room, Rio leaned against a worn stone pillar, her dark eyes calm but shadowed with an emotion she rarely let surface—guilt.

“You’re telling me you can’t do anything?” Agatha’s voice sliced through the suffocating silence like a blade. Her hands clenched into fists, and the air around her vibrated with the barely restrained power of her magic. “You’re Death, Rio. Death! You’re supposed to have power over this.”

Rio straightened, her dark hair falling around her sharp features like a veil. “And because I’m Death, I know the limits,” she said evenly, though the edge in her voice betrayed her own frustration. “I’ve bought her time. More time than I should have. But it’s catching up, Agatha. You know it as well as I do.”

“Don’t.” Agatha stopped pacing abruptly, turning to face Rio with a look that could have scorched the ground beneath them. Her blue eyes bore into Rio’s, daring her to say more. “Don’t you dare talk about her like she’s just another soul. She’s not some name on your ledger!”

“I never said she was,” Rio snapped, her voice rising as her own composure cracked. She pushed off the pillar and took a step forward, her presence suddenly more commanding. “Do you think this is easy for me? Watching her? Watching you? Knowing I can’t stop what’s coming? Do you think I don’t feel it too?”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her magic flaring dangerously as she closed the distance between them. “Then do something!” she growled, her voice low and venomous. “You have the power, Rio. Use it. Fix this.”

Rio’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening as she stepped even closer. “You think I haven’t tried?” she shot back, her voice breaking with a rare rawness. “You think I don’t want to tear apart every law of existence just to keep her safe? But this isn’t something I can fix with a snap of my fingers. It’s her time, Agatha. And every second I’ve delayed it, I’ve risked tearing everything apart.”

Agatha’s entire body trembled, her hands shaking with the effort of restraining her magic. Her voice cracked as she hissed, “I don’t care about balance. I don’t care about the universe. I care about her. I care about our family. And if you can’t do anything—if you won’t do anything—then what the hell are we even fighting for?”

Rio’s eyes softened, her own frustration melting into an aching sorrow that she couldn’t fully mask. “Agatha,” she said quietly, her voice losing its sharpness. “You know I love her. You know I’d give anything to keep her here. But even I have limits. Even I can’t outrun death forever.”

For a moment, the only sound between them was the faint hum of Agatha’s magic, pulsing in rhythm with her ragged breaths. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken fears and shared pain that neither of them knew how to voice. Slowly, the violet glow at Agatha’s fingertips dimmed, though her hands still trembled with the weight of her emotions.

“She’s not just anyone,” Agatha whispered, her voice raw with anguish. “She’s F/N. She’s ours.”

Rio nodded, her calm facade cracking just enough to reveal the depths of her pain. “I know,” she said softly, her voice laced with regret. She took another cautious step forward. “But what do you want me to do? Steal time from the universe? Take life from others to give it to her? You know she wouldn’t want that.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her gaze dropping to the ground as her voice faltered. “I just… I can’t lose her,” she admitted, the words barely audible, trembling in the air like fragile glass. “I can’t lose her again.”

Rio hesitated before reaching out, her hand brushing against Agatha’s arm with a gentleness that felt foreign in the heavy atmosphere. “Neither can I,” she murmured, her voice steady but heavy with sorrow. “But if we keep holding on too tightly, we’ll lose more than just her. We’ll lose ourselves. And she’d never forgive us for that.”

Agatha’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her as Rio’s words seeped into her defences. The sparks of magic around her hands flickered and faded, leaving only a faint hum in the air. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke. “You’re asking me to let her go.”

Rio shook her head slowly, her dark eyes locked onto Agatha’s. “I’m asking you to love her in the way she needs—to let her live without the weight of our desperation crushing her.” She paused, her gaze unwavering. “And to let me do my job when the time comes.”

Agatha looked up, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her lips quivered as she whispered, “I hate you.”

Rio’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I know,” she said softly.

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their love for you and their pain for what they couldn’t control binding them together even as it tore them apart. Agatha’s fists tightened at her sides, and she turned away, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll stay away from her for now.”

Rio hesitated but eventually nodded, stepping back into the shadows. “For now,” she agreed, her voice hollow.

As the light in the realm dimmed once more, Agatha stood frozen, her heart shattering under the weight of what she could not stop. Even as Rio disappeared from view, the heaviness in the air lingered—a reminder of the love they shared for you and the cruel fate that bound them all.

The quiet of the night enveloped the room, broken only by the crackling of the small fire in the hearth. You lay propped up against a mountain of pillows, your face pale but serene, the shadows of exhaustion softening your features. Your hands rested on your swollen belly, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles. Agatha sat beside you, holding your hand tightly, her piercing blue eyes never straying far from your face. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle coiled, ready to protect you from a threat she couldn’t touch.

Rio lingered in the doorway, her dark eyes shadowed as she watched the two of you. Her presence was heavy, her silence filled with unspoken words she didn’t know how to say. The air between her and Agatha crackled faintly, not with magic but with the weight of everything unsaid.

Your voice broke the stillness, soft and fragile like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake. “Agatha,” you began, your gaze shifting to meet hers. The intensity of her eyes—the way they softened for you—made your heart ache. “I need you to promise me something.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed deeply, her grip on your hand tightening as though holding you tethered to her would keep you safe. “Anything,” she said immediately, her voice firm despite the emotion trembling beneath it. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

A faint smile flickered across your lips, your hand brushing against hers. “If something happens to me during the birth…” You hesitated, swallowing hard, the words heavy and bitter on your tongue. “Promise me you’ll save the baby.”

Agatha’s expression froze, the colour draining from her face as if the words had struck her physically. Her body stiffened, her entire being rejecting the thought. “Don’t,” she said sharply, her voice low and strained. “Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine.”

“Agatha.” Your tone was firm, cutting through her resistance as your fingers tightened around hers. “Listen to me. Please. I need you to hear this.”

From the doorway, Rio’s voice came, soft but weighted with the gravity of her role. “She’s right, Agatha,” she said, stepping forward cautiously, her shadow stretching across the room. “You need to—”

“Not now,” you said, raising a hand to silence her, your gaze never leaving Agatha. “This is between me and her.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched, her breathing uneven as she shook her head. “I’m not making that promise,” she said, her voice laced with defiance. The faint purple glow of her magic sparked at her fingertips, betraying the storm raging inside her. “I refuse to make that choice. I won’t lose you, not again. Not after everything we’ve fought for.”

Tears welled in your eyes, though you tried to keep your voice steady. “It’s not about losing me,” you said gently. “It’s about giving our baby a chance to live, to grow, to have a future. You can’t fight Death forever, Agatha. Not even for me.”

Agatha’s gaze dropped to your joined hands, her silence thick with turmoil. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse, cracked by the weight of her emotions. “You’re asking me to give up the person I love most in this world.”

“And I’m asking you to love our child enough to do what’s right,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. “Agatha, I need to know that our baby will have you, even if I can’t be there.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements slow, cautious. Her dark eyes softened as they flicked to you. “She’s not wrong,” she said quietly, her tone steady but carrying a deep sadness. “I’ll be here. I’ll do everything I can to make sure our child makes it through.”

You turned your gaze to Rio, offering her a faint, weary smile. “I trust you, Rio,” you murmured. “But this isn’t about magic or power. It’s about being prepared for the worst.” Your attention shifted back to Agatha, your voice breaking as you added, “I need you to promise me.”

Agatha’s shoulders trembled as she inhaled shakily, her lips pressing into a thin, defiant line. The weight of your plea crushed her, an immovable force against the love that burned inside her. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded, her voice barely audible as she whispered, “I promise.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief mingling with the sadness in your eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against her cheek. “I love you.”

Agatha leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours. The tears she had held back slipped free, streaking down her cheeks as her voice cracked. “I love you more than anything,” she whispered fiercely. “More than life itself.”

Rio stood silently, her chest tight as she watched the exchange. The shadow of her role as Death loomed over her like a silent spectre, a reminder of what might come. Her hands twitched at her sides, her heart aching with the knowledge of the inevitabilities she could not change.

Agatha turned slightly, her gaze finding Rio as if sensing her presence. “Stay where you are,” she said sharply, her voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want you near her.”

Rio’s brows furrowed, the faintest flicker of pain crossing her face. “Agatha—”

“I said stay back!” Agatha growled, her magic sparking faintly around her. “You’ve already taken enough from us.”

Rio hesitated but nodded, retreating a step, her expression one of quiet understanding. “I’ll be here,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. “If you need me.”

The quiet returned, broken only by the crackle of the fire as Agatha’s hand brushed gently against your hair. “Rest,” she murmured, her voice trembling but tender. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Rio lingered by the doorway, her shadow blending with the flickering light of the fire. Though the bond between the three of you had frayed under the weight of loss and love, her presence remained a silent promise, her own love for you holding her in place.

And as your eyes fluttered closed, Agatha and Rio remained rooted in their shared pain and devotion, bound by the fragile thread of hope that still held you all together.

The room was silent after you drifted back to sleep, your breathing steady, your hand still clutching Agatha’s like a lifeline. Agatha sat motionless beside you, her fingers intertwined with yours as if letting go would allow you to slip away. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls, but even its warmth couldn’t ease the chill settling over her heart.

Rio leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. The faint glow of the firelight reflected in her dark eyes, but the shadows beneath them betrayed the weight she carried. Finally, after a long moment, she broke the silence, her voice low and cautious. “She’s braver than both of us.”

Agatha didn’t look up, focusing entirely on you as her thumb brushed over your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Her jaw tightened, and her voice, when it came, was thick with restrained emotion. “She shouldn’t have to be,” she murmured. “I’m supposed to protect her. I promised her a life of love, not… this.”

Rio pushed off the doorframe, her movements slow and deliberate as she stepped closer. Her dark eyes softened as she took in the scene before her—the woman she loved, the fragile person they both adored, lying between them like the thread that bound their fractured relationship together. “Agatha,” she said gently, her tone careful. “You’ve done everything you can to keep her safe. You can’t carry all of this on your shoulders.”

“Can’t I?” Agatha’s head snapped up, her sharp blue eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve spent my life mastering magic, bending the rules of nature itself, to make sure she’d never know this kind of pain. And yet, here we are.”

Rio hesitated, but she moved closer, her hands still at her sides as though afraid to reach out. “You’ve done more than anyone else could,” she said quietly. “More than anyone else ever would. But there are limits to what even you can do, Agatha.”

Agatha’s glare hardened. “Don’t you dare talk to me about limits,” she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut. “You don’t know what it’s like. You stand there and watch—you let this happen—because you’re too bound by your so-called rules to fight for her.”

Rio flinched, her composure cracking for just a moment before she schooled her features into calm again. “Do you think I don’t feel it too?” she said softly, her voice raw despite her restraint. “Do you think I don’t love her enough to want to change all of this? But you know what I am. You know what I’m bound to.”

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, though it was thick with pain. “You’re Death. The one thing no one can escape. And now you expect me to just sit here and wait for you to take her away.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” Rio replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I would never want to take her from you. From us.” Her dark eyes flicked to you, lingering on the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. “But this isn’t something I can control, Agatha. No matter how much I might want to.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around yours, her free hand trembling as she smoothed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. “She made me promise,” she said, her voice breaking under the weight of the memory. “She asked me to choose the baby over her if it came to that.”

Rio’s gaze softened further, and she crouched down beside Agatha, though she made sure to keep her distance. “She doesn’t want you to carry more pain than you already have,” she murmured. “She loves you enough to think of your future, even if it doesn’t include her.”

“It feels like betrayal,” Agatha admitted, her voice trembling. “How can I promise to let her go when every part of me is screaming to hold on?”

Rio didn’t answer immediately. She stayed still, her presence steady even as her own emotions simmered beneath the surface. Finally, she said softly, “Because that’s what love is, Agatha. It’s not just holding on—it’s knowing when to let go. Even when it breaks you.”

Agatha’s head lowered, her tears falling silently as her shoulders shook. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she whispered, “I hate this. I hate you for being part of it.”

Rio’s dark eyes glistened with unspoken sorrow, but she nodded, her voice steady despite the crack threatening to break it. “I know,” she said simply. “And I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the two women sat in silence, their shared burden heavy between them. Agatha’s anger and Rio’s guilt coiled tightly in the air, but both of them stayed where they were, bound by the love they shared for you and the impossible choices looming ahead.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow painting the room in shades of warmth and shadow. Agatha’s hand brushed gently against yours as she pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I won’t lose you. I can’t.”

Rio didn’t reply. She stayed there, her gaze fixed on you, her hands clenched at her sides. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—speak the truth that hung in the back of her mind: that when the time came, she might not have a choice. Because to say it would only fuel Agatha’s rage, and because, deep down, it was the one inevitability that broke her just as much as it broke Agatha.

The silence stretched long into the night, filled with unspoken fears and a fragile hope that none of them dared to voice. For now, Rio remained in the shadows, watching as Agatha held you close, her love burning brighter than ever.

As the weeks passed, you grew quieter, your strength waning as your belly swelled with the life inside you. Agatha became your constant shadow, rarely leaving your side for more than a few moments. Her entire world seemed to narrow to you and the child you carried, her fierce protectiveness manifesting in every glance, every touch, and every whispered reassurance. She hovered over you like a storm, her presence an unrelenting shield against the world.

Rio, meanwhile, managed the day-to-day practicalities. She ensured the cottage was well-stocked, checked and rechecked the magical wards surrounding the property, and kept watch over the realm for any signs of danger. Her movements were efficient and deliberate, but there was an unspoken heaviness in her gaze whenever it landed on you. She tried not to linger near you and Agatha too long, knowing her presence only added to the tension that simmered beneath the surface.

One evening, as the setting sun bathed the sitting room in warm hues of amber and gold, you lay curled up on the chaise with Agatha. Your head rested against her shoulder as she read to you from an old, leather-bound book, her voice soft and soothing. Her arm was draped protectively around you, her free hand absently tracing circles over your belly. You felt the vibrations of her voice through her chest, supporting you in a way that no spell or charm ever could.

The door creaked open, and Rio entered carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, her dark eyes flicking between the two of you. Her usual calm exterior didn’t waver, but there was a subtle tension in the way she held the tray, as though she were bracing herself.

She set the tray down on the small table near the fire and crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the chair across the room. “You two look cosy,” she said lightly, her voice tinged with her usual light humour.

You opened your eyes halfway, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion that weighed on you. “You’re jealous,” you murmured, your tone playful even though it came out weak.

Rio’s lips curved into a small smile, though her gaze softened. “Always,” she replied simply, her voice quieter now.

Agatha didn’t respond, focusing entirely on you as she continued tracing gentle patterns on your arm. Her sharp eyes flicked briefly toward Rio but quickly returned to you as if any moment spent acknowledging Rio’s presence might give her an opening to do what Agatha feared most.

You shifted slightly, placing your hand over Agatha’s as you glanced at Rio with a tired but teasing grin. “Lucky kid,” you said softly, your voice carrying a faint lilt of humour. “Gets to have Death as his mama.”

The air in the room shifted, the playful remark landing heavier than you likely intended. Agatha stiffened beside you, her body tensing as her jaw tightened. Her hand stopped moving against your arm, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Rio chuckled faintly, though the sound didn’t carry much humour. “He’ll be luckier to have two mothers who’d do anything for him,” she said, her tone gentle but steady. She didn’t move closer, staying rooted in her spot across the room as her dark gaze lingered on you.

You looked between the two women, sensing the unspoken tension that had grown thicker over the past weeks. Your hand tightened slightly over Agatha’s, supporting her as you leaned back into her warmth. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” you asked softly, your other hand moving to rest on your swollen belly. “Our baby?”

Agatha’s lips parted as if to speak, but her voice faltered. She swallowed hard, her hand covering yours over your belly. It was Rio who broke the silence, her voice steady but low. “He’ll be perfect,” she said firmly, her eyes locking on yours. “And we’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Agatha’s hand trembled slightly as she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll have everything we didn’t,” she murmured. “Love, safety, and… a future.”

You smiled faintly, the weight of the conversation pulling at your features. “A future,” you repeated softly, your eyes drifting closed for a moment. “That’s all I want for him.”

Agatha’s grip on you tightened imperceptibly, her chin brushing against your hair as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Rest, love,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Rio stayed where she was, her arms crossed as she watched the two of you. The faintest flicker of a smile touched her lips, but her eyes were heavy with emotions she couldn’t voice. She wanted to step closer, to sit with you and reassure you as much as Agatha did, but she knew better. Agatha’s protectiveness over you had only grown sharper with time, and any attempt to close the distance now would only stoke the flames of her fear.

The firelight flickered softly as the room settled into silence again. Agatha remained at your side, her hand resting protectively on your belly, while Rio lingered in the background, her shadow stretching across the floor. Though they didn’t speak to each other, the love they both felt for you filled the space between them—a love that bound them even as it fractured the fragile balance of their relationship.

And as the fire crackled and you drifted into a light sleep, Agatha’s hold on you didn’t loosen. Her sharp eyes darted briefly to Rio, her jaw tightening as though daring her to make a move. Rio didn’t. She stayed rooted in place, her expression unreadable, her presence a silent reminder of the inevitability neither of them wanted to face.

For now, the tension remained unspoken, the fragile peace held together by their shared devotion to you and the life growing within you.

The days blurred into an anxious haze as your due date crept closer, each moment heavy with anticipation and dread. The tension in the cottage was palpable, a shadow that seemed to stretch across every interaction. Agatha barely left your side, her eyes constantly scanning you for any sign of discomfort or distress. Her presence was fierce and protective, an unrelenting force that seemed determined to shield you from the world.

Rio, ever the silent observer, hovered at the edges of the household. She rarely spoke, her dark eyes watchful and brooding as she moved through the space, preparing for every possibility. Her presence, though quiet, was impossible to ignore—a constant reminder of the inevitabilities that hung over all of you.

One evening, as you leaned against a mountain of pillows in the sitting room, you tried to lighten the mood. “You two are going to smother me before this baby even arrives,” you teased, a faint smile gracing your lips despite the exhaustion etched into your features. Your hands rested protectively on your belly, the simple gesture grounding you amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

“Smothering?” Agatha scoffed, though the faint flicker of purple magic at her fingertips betrayed her anxiety. “I call it being attentive, thank you very much.”

From the doorway, Rio leaned casually against the frame, her dark hair brushing her shoulders as she raised a brow. “Attentive?” she drawled. “More like borderline obsessive.”

Agatha’s head snapped up, her icy eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. “This from the woman who refuses to leave the house because ‘something might happen,’” she shot back, her voice laced with tension.

“Guilty,” Rio admitted unapologetically, her grin faint but genuine. “But let’s not pretend you’re subtle, Agatha. The moment she so much as sneezes, you act like the world’s ending.”

You laughed softly, though the sound carried a hint of weariness. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous doesn’t begin to cover it,” Agatha muttered, her voice softening as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. Her touch lingered, her hand trembling slightly as her gaze searched yours for reassurance. “This baby means everything to us. You mean everything to us.”

Rio’s expression shifted, her usual sharpness giving way to a rare vulnerability. She glanced at you, then at Agatha, her voice quiet when she finally spoke. “You’ve been through a lot,” she admitted, the words tinged with an uncharacteristic rawness. “But this? This is something we can’t afford to lose.”

Your heart ached at the emotion in their voices, the love and fear that bound the three of you together despite the fractures in your relationship. You reached out, taking both of their hands in yours. Agatha’s hand tightened instinctively, while Rio hesitated for a brief moment before letting your fingers close around hers.

“We won’t lose,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears glistening in your eyes. “We’ve made it this far together. We’ll make it through this too.”

The words echoed, a balm that eased the tension in the room, if only for a moment. Agatha said nothing, her jaw tight as she looked down at your joined hands. Rio, too, remained quiet, her dark eyes shadowed with something unreadable. Yet, the weight in the room lifted slightly, giving way to a fragile peace.

But as the days passed, the reality of your condition became harder to ignore. The once-fragile peace began to crack under the strain of what lay ahead.

It was early morning when the first sharp pain woke you. The cottage was still, the faint glow of dawn just beginning to peek through the curtains. You gasped, your hand flying instinctively to your belly as a wave of nausea rolled over you, leaving you breathless.

Agatha was at your side in an instant, her blue eyes wide with concern. “What is it?” she said urgently, her hands hovering just above you, trembling slightly as if afraid to touch you and make it worse. “What’s wrong?”

You winced, struggling to steady your breathing as the pain rippled through you again. “I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels… different.”

The door to the room creaked open, and Rio appeared moments later. She didn’t say anything at first, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in the scene—Agatha kneeling by your side, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips, and you, trembling and clutching your belly.

“Is it time?” Rio asked finally, her voice low but tense. She stayed near the door, her presence looming but not invasive.

Agatha shot her a quick glare, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” she admitted through gritted teeth. Her focus returned to you, her hands moving carefully to help you sit up. “But we’re not taking any chances.”

Rio didn’t move closer, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she stayed rooted near the doorway. Agatha, for her part, barely acknowledged her presence, her attention consumed by you. Her hands brushed over your hair, her voice softening as she murmured, “I’m here, love. I’ve got you.”

You leaned into Agatha’s touch, the pain ebbing slightly under the weight of her presence. Your breath came in shallow gasps, but you managed to nod, gripping her arm weakly. “I… I think it might be starting,” you whispered.

Agatha’s magic surged faintly in response, the violet light at her fingertips casting flickering shadows across the walls. Her expression hardened with determination, even as a flicker of fear glimmered in her blue eyes. “Then we’re ready,” she said, her voice steady but strained.

Rio lingered silently, her gaze fixed on you. Her hands clenched at her sides, but she didn’t move closer. Agatha’s protectiveness burned like a shield around you, and Rio knew better than to test it now. Instead, she stayed where she was, her dark eyes heavy with the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

The tension in the room was palpable, the air charged with both love and fear. And as the morning light crept further into the room, you gripped Agatha’s hand tightly, bracing yourself for what was to come.

The labour room was a maelstrom of chaos and emotion, tension thick enough to suffocate. Your cries of pain tore through the air, raw and unrelenting, as Agatha clung to your hand like it was the only anchor she had left. Blood soaked the sheets beneath you, vivid and horrifying against the white fabric, spilling far too freely for anyone’s comfort. Agatha’s eyes darted between your pale, sweat-slicked face and the midwife’s grim expression, her panic barely restrained behind a mask of determination.

“Push, doll,” Agatha urged, her voice steady despite the tremor of fear deep in her core. She leaned close, brushing damp strands of hair from your flushed face, her grip on your hand unrelenting. “You’re almost there. Just one more.”

Your chest heaved, your breathing ragged as the contraction wracked your body. Tears streaked your cheeks, and your voice broke with exhaustion as you whimpered, “I can’t… I can’t do this… It hurts so much.”

“You can,” Agatha said firmly, her voice commanding and unwavering. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve come too far to stop now. You’re almost there, love.”

The midwife worked frantically at the foot of the bed, barking orders to her assistant, who scrambled to fetch more cloth. Blood was everywhere, a terrifying reminder of the precariousness of the moment. Agatha’s mind raced with incantations, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips as she searched desperately for something—anything—that could help. But magic, her greatest strength, felt useless here. She couldn’t destroy what threatened to take you from her. And for the first time in centuries, she felt truly powerless.

Rio stood silently in the corner of the room, her dark eyes fixed on you. Her presence was heavy, oppressive even, though her usual commanding aura was muted. Death lingered in her stance, in the tightness of her jaw, in the way her lips pressed into a grim line. She didn’t need to speak for Agatha to feel it—time was slipping away.

“Do something!” Agatha snarled suddenly, her head snapping toward Rio. Her voice was venomous, her blue eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t just stand there and watch!”

Rio’s gaze didn’t waver. Her voice, when it came, was low but steady. “You know I can’t interfere.”

“Like hell you can’t!” Agatha spat, her grip tightening on your hand as another contraction tore through you, wrenching a scream from your throat. “This isn’t just some arbitrary soul, Rio. This is her. This is our life. And I’ll be damned if you take her from me!”

“Agatha…” you whimpered weakly, your voice barely audible over the chaos. Your head rolled to the side as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “Stop… please… don’t fight…”

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened, vulnerability cracking through her unyielding façade as she turned back to you. “You have to stay with me,” she whispered fiercely, her hand trembling as she cupped your face. “You hear me? You have to stay.”

Another contraction hit, and you screamed, your body arching as blood poured from you in unrelenting waves. The midwife’s assistant hurriedly replaced the soaked cloth, her hands shaking. “The baby is close,” the midwife said urgently, her tone grim, “but the mother—she’s losing too much blood.”

You gasped faintly, your strength fading. “Save… the baby,” you murmured, your voice so weak it was almost lost beneath the midwife’s hurried commands.

“No,” Agatha barked, her head snapping toward you. “Don’t you dare say that!”

“Please,” you whispered, tears spilling freely now. “Promise me…”

Agatha’s hands trembled as she cradled your face, her magic sparking erratically. “No, love. We’re not doing that,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “You’re going to make it. Both of you are going to make it.”

The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as your final scream shattered the air. Then, finally, the sharp cry of the baby cut through the chaos. The sound was piercing, raw, and beautiful all at once, and for a brief, miraculous moment, the room seemed to pause.

“It’s a boy,” the midwife announced, wrapping the squirming infant in a bloodied cloth before holding him out to Agatha.

Agatha took the tiny bundle into her arms, her breath catching as she stared down at him. His cries were strong, his little fists flailing as if protesting the ordeal of his arrival. “He’s perfect,” Agatha murmured, her tears falling freely as she looked at him. “Absolutely perfect.”

But the moment shattered as you gasped sharply, your body convulsing. Agatha’s head snapped back to you, panic flooding her expression. “No, no, no. F/N!” she cried, clutching your hand. Blood continued to pour from you, staining everything in its path.

“She’s fading,” Rio said quietly, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, but the tightness in her expression betrayed the depth of her own pain.

“No!” Agatha snarled, her magic flaring violently, the room trembling with the force of her power. “You’re not taking her, Rio! I’ll destroy everything if you try.”

Your hand weakly brushed against Agatha’s arm, drawing her attention. “Agatha…” you murmured, your voice faint but full of love. “Stop… I love you…”

“Don’t you dare leave me,” Agatha whispered, her tears falling faster as she pressed a kiss to your clammy forehead. “You stay with me, you hear me?”

Rio knelt beside you both, her expression unreadable as she extended her hands. “Agatha,” she said firmly, “I can help. But you must let me.”

Agatha hesitated, her entire body trembling. For a moment, her magic surged again, crackling in the air around her, but then she relented. Slowly, reluctantly, she loosened her grip on her power. “Do it,” she growled. “But if you take her…”

“I won’t,” Rio said quietly, her hands glowing faintly as her power washed over you like a soft, steady wave. The bleeding slowed, though it didn’t stop completely. Sweat beaded on Rio’s brow as she pushed against her own limits. “This will buy her time,” she said through gritted teeth. “But it’s up to her now.”

Agatha sobbed, clutching the baby close as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “You hear that, love? You fight. You hold on for us.”

Your lips twitched into a faint smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “Nicky,” you murmured softly.

Agatha’s heart clenched, her voice breaking as she repeated, “Nicky. Our Nicholas.”

The baby’s cries softened as if soothed by your voice. Agatha held him close, her tears falling freely as she whispered, “He’s perfect, F/N. Just like you.”

Rio sat back slightly, her dark eyes heavy as she watched you breathe, each rise and fall of your chest a fragile miracle. Agatha didn’t look at her; her entire world was consumed by you and the tiny life in her arms. For now, you had survived. But the weight of what had almost been lingered between them, a reminder of how close they had come to losing everything.

The tension in the dimly lit room was suffocating, pressing down on every breath. The midwife and her assistant moved swiftly, their hands deft and precise as they worked to stabilise you. The bleeding had slowed, but their faces remained pale with worry. When your breathing evened out, and you fell into a fragile sleep, the midwife looked to Agatha, her voice low but urgent. “She’s stable, for now.”

Agatha nodded sharply, her expression carved from stone. “Thank you,” she said curtly, her voice tight with exhaustion. The midwife hesitated as her gaze flicked between Agatha, you, and the baby in Agatha's arms, but finally, she turned to leave. She and her assistant exited quietly, the door clicking shut behind them.

The silence followed was heavy and oppressive, broken only by the crackling fire and your soft, laboured breaths. Agatha stood at the edge of the bed, her blue eyes fixed on you. Your face, pale and damp with sweat, was peaceful in sleep, though the strain lingered faintly in the lines of your brow. Nicky stirred in Agatha's arms, his tiny body warm and content, blissfully unaware of the storm surrounding him.

Rio stepped forward from her place by the door, her dark eyes shadowed with regret. “She’s alive,” she said quietly, her voice heavy. “For now.”

Agatha didn’t look at her, her attention fixed on you as she carefully craded Nicky. The baby whimpered faintly at the movement, but she pulled him close, murmuring softly until he settled against her chest. “And she’ll stay that way,” Agatha said, her voice low and dangerous.

“You know the cost,” Rio said, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight. “You know what it’ll take.”

Agatha finally turned to her, her blue eyes blazing with unrelenting resolve. “I don’t care.”

Rio hesitated, her dark gaze flicking between Agatha and the child she held. “You’re talking about taking lives, Agatha. This isn’t something you can undo.”

“I don’t want to undo it,” Agatha snapped, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Whoever you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Rio’s lips tightened into a thin line, her usual calm cracking under the weight of Agatha’s determination. “This isn’t a game,” she said quietly. “These are lives—souls that don’t deserve to be taken.”

“Don’t talk to me about who deserves what,” Agatha hissed, her grip tightening around Nicky protectively. “You want to talk about fairness? About justice? After everything that’s been taken from us?” Her voice cracked slightly, but the fire in her gaze didn’t waver. “If I have to destroy the lives of strangers to save the only family I have, then so be it.”

Rio’s expression softened for a moment, sorrow flickering in her dark eyes. “You’re sure?” she asked quietly, though the answer was already clear.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Agatha said firmly, her voice cold with finality. She glanced down at you, her expression softening as her hand brushed against your damp forehead. “She’s everything. He’s everything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

Rio exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging as she stepped closer. “It’s not just the souls,” she murmured. “Once this starts, you’ll have to live with what you’ve done. You’ll carry that weight forever.”

“Then I’ll carry it,” Agatha shot back without hesitation. “I’ll carry it for her. For him. It doesn’t matter what it costs me. I’ll pay it.”

Nicky shifted slightly in her arms, his tiny hand brushing against her chest, and Agatha leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Her magic crackled faintly in the air around her, charged with the intensity of her resolve. “You tell me what you need, Rio,” she said, her voice dropping to a low growl. “And I’ll deliver it.”

Rio nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on you as you slept. “You’re not afraid of becoming the monster, are you?” she asked softly, her voice laced with sadness.

Agatha’s laugh was bitter, her eyes narrowing. “If being a monster means keeping her alive, then yes,” she said fiercely. “I’ll be whatever I need to be.”

The fire crackled softly, its light casting flickering shadows across the room. Rio stood silent for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she took a step back. “You’ve made your choice,” she said quietly. “I won’t stop you.”

Agatha turned back to you and Nicky, her focus unyielding. She adjusted the baby in her arms, holding him close as she sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Her free hand brushed against your cheek, her voice softening as she whispered, “You’re going to stay with us, doll. No matter what it takes.”

And as the firelight glimmered in her eyes, there was no hesitation in her heart. Whatever the price, Agatha would pay it. For you. For Nicky. For the family she refused to lose.

Agatha’s determination was as unyielding as the magic crackling at her fingertips. She had made her choice—whatever it took to save you and Nicky, she would do. The cost didn’t matter. The lives she would trade meant nothing compared to the life she had built with you. No one, not even Rio, could dissuade her from the path she had chosen. Agatha Harkness was a witch of extraordinary power, and now, she would wield every ounce of it to keep her family intact.

The coven of witches she sought was notorious—ruthless, power-hungry, and always eager to expand their strength through dangerous and questionable rituals. They were powerful, yes, but not as powerful as Agatha. She arrived at their hidden lair with precision, her expression cold and unyielding. Purple energy sparked faintly at her fingertips as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors with a mere flick of her wrist.

Inside, the witches turned, their eyes narrowing with suspicion and unease. The eldest of the coven, a tall woman with wild grey-streaked hair, stepped forward. “Agatha Harkness,” she said sharply, her tone laced with disdain. “What business do you have here?”

Agatha’s lips curved into a cold smile, her blue eyes gleaming with purpose. “An opportunity,” she said smoothly, her voice steady and confident. “A trade that will give you more power than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

The coven exchanged wary glances, their curiosity battling their mistrust. The leader tilted her head, studying Agatha carefully. “And why would a witch of your strength offer us such a thing?” she asked, her tone biting.

“Because I need something in return,” Agatha replied, stepping forward. The purple glow of her magic intensified slightly, casting flickering shadows across the room. “Something only you can provide.”

The leader’s suspicion deepened, but there was temptation in her gaze. “And what, exactly, do you seek, Harkness?”

Agatha’s smile widened, but it didn’t soften. “Your power,” she said simply, her voice like steel. “All of it.”

Realisation dawned on the witches, and the room erupted into chaos. Spells were cast with desperate speed, bolts of magic crackling through the air as they hurled their attacks at Agatha. But Agatha didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. As the first strike hit her, her magic flared in response, absorbing the energy like a sponge.

The witches’ attacks fed her power, each strike siphoned into her own magic, amplifying it. The violet tendrils surrounding her lashed out, wrapping around the witches like serpents. They screamed as their energy was torn from them, their bodies withering as their life force drained away. Skin shrivelled, eyes hollowed, and one by one, they collapsed to the floor, their lifeless forms little more than dried husks.

The leader, the last to fall, clawed at the air as Agatha’s magic coiled around her throat. “Mercy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible over the crackling energy.

Agatha tilted her head, her smile fading into something colder. “There’s no mercy here,” she said quietly before the final tendril of magic surged forward, leaving the leader’s body crumpled alongside the others.

When the last echo of their screams faded, Agatha stood in the centre of the carnage, her chest heaving. The power coursing through her was immense, nearly overwhelming, but she embraced it. It was enough. It had to be enough. She’d done it. It was enough—for now.

When Agatha returned to the cottage, the night was unnervingly quiet. Inside, you were sitting by the fire, Nicky cradled in your arms. Your eyes lit up with relief when you saw her, but your face was pale, exhaustion still etched into your features.

“Agatha,” you said softly, your voice faint but warm. “You’re back.”

“I’m here, doll,” she replied, her voice calm despite the raw energy still humming through her veins. She knelt beside you, her eyes softening as they fell on you and the baby. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, leaning into her touch as she brushed a curl from your forehead. “But better.”

“Good,” Agatha murmured. Her hand lingered on your cheek as she pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re going to be fine. Both of you.”

You nodded, your grip on Nicky loosening slightly as the baby stirred in your arms. “I was worried,” you whispered. “You were gone so long.”

“I had to make sure everything was safe,” Agatha said, her voice low and soothing. “But you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll take care of everything.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as sleep pulled you under, your breathing evening out. Agatha carefully lifted Nicky from your arms, cradling him close as she stood. She rocked him gently, her lips brushing his soft forehead. “You’ll be safe,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

When she was sure you were asleep, she turned toward the doorway. Rio stepped out from the shadows, her dark eyes heavy with something between sorrow and resignation. “It won’t last forever,” Rio said quietly. “You know that.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Agatha replied sharply, her blue eyes blazing. “I’ll find more. As many as it takes.”

“You’re hunting witches,” Rio said softly, her voice laced with regret. “Draining their lives, stealing their power. How many will it take to keep her alive? How long can you keep this up?”

“As long as I need to,” Agatha said firmly, her grip on Nicky tightening. “I’ll hunt every witch, every creature with the power to give if it means keeping her here.”

Rio’s expression flickered, but she didn’t argue. “And when she finds out?”

“She won’t,” Agatha said quickly, her voice hardening. “She doesn’t need to know. All she needs is to live. That’s all that matters.”

Rio sighed, stepping back into the shadows. “You’ve made your choice, Agatha,” she said softly before disappearing into the night.

Agatha stood for a long moment, her gaze shifting between you and the firelight flickering across the room. She kissed Nicky’s forehead again, holding him close as a faint tremor ran through her. Soon, she would have to leave again. Soon, she would have to hunt. But for now, she knelt beside you, her hand brushing over your sleeping face.

“You’ll never know,” she whispered, her voice a mix of love and despair. “You’ll never know what I’ve done for you.”

And as the fire crackled softly, Agatha’s resolve burned brighter than ever. She would keep you alive—whatever it took, whoever it cost.

The years had not softened Agatha’s resolve nor eased the strain on your heart. Six years had passed since your lives had irreversibly changed—since Rio left not long before Nicky’s birth, leaving you with an ache that had never fully healed. Six years since Agatha made the unrelenting choice to do whatever it took to keep you alive. The three of you moved constantly, never lingering in one place for too long, always leaving whispers of a powerful witch and her family in your wake. No matter how far you travelled, the shadows of the past always followed.

Nicky, now six years old, was the brightest light in your life. He was quick-witted, curious, and kind, with your quiet determination, Agatha’s sharpness, and a smile that was unmistakably Rio’s. That smile—radiant and full of life—warmed your heart and broke it all at once, a reminder of what you had lost and what you still carried.

Tonight, under a canopy of stars, Nicky lay curled against you, his small fingers clasping yours as you hummed a soft lullaby. The fire crackled softly nearby, its warm glow casting flickering shadows. Agatha sat a short distance away, her piercing eyes scanning the horizon. Even in these quiet moments, her vigilance never wavered. She wasn’t just protecting you and Nicky—she was a predator, honed and fierce, her magic thrumming with the energy she had stolen from others. You knew this because you had pieced it together over the years, even if she had never told you.

“Mummy,” Nicky mumbled, his voice muffled as he burrowed against your side, “do you think the stars are watching us?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of dark hair from his forehead. “Maybe, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Maybe they’re watching and keeping us safe.”

He shifted slightly, his bright eyes glancing toward Agatha. “What about you, Mum? Do you think the stars are magic?”

Agatha’s expression softened, and a rare smile touched her lips. “The stars?” she repeated, her tone lighter than usual. “Oh, they’re magic, alright. But they can’t compare to you, my little star.”

Nicky giggled, his laughter warm and unguarded, as he buried his face against you. “I’m not magic, Mum.”

Agatha smirked as she stood, dusting off her hands. “Not yet,” she teased, though her tone carried a seriousness that made your chest tighten.

You glanced at her, smiling softly as you stroked Nicky’s hair. “As long as he’s safe,” you said quietly, “and if one day he can help people who need it… that would be my dream.”

Agatha turned to look at you, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable before she returned her gaze to the horizon. She didn’t respond, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

Nicky’s breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep, his small hand relaxing in yours. You stared at his peaceful face, your heart twisting at the sight. There were moments when you saw so much of yourself and Agatha in him—his determination, his sharpness, his playful nature. But then there was his smile, that radiant, mischievous grin that was pure Rio. It was a bittersweet reminder of the love you’d shared and the loss that still haunted you.

You looked at Agatha as she stood watch, her silhouette framed by the firelight. You knew what she had done—the lives she had taken, the sacrifices she had made to keep you alive. You knew because of the way she avoided your eyes after her “trips,” the faint hum of power clinging to her like an echo of her deeds. But you didn’t say anything. How could you? She had done it for you, for Nicky, and the weight of that truth sat like a stone in your chest.

The fire crackled softly, the night air cool against your skin. You leaned down to kiss Nicky’s forehead, your voice a soft whisper. “You’ll grow up safe, my love,” you murmured. “You’ll grow up to help people, to make the world better.”

Agatha turned slightly as though sensing your words. Her blue eyes flickered in the firelight, but she didn’t speak, and you didn’t meet her gaze.

Instead, you rested your cheek against Nicky’s soft curls, letting the silence stretch between you and Agatha. You carried the knowledge of her actions alone, blaming yourself for the path she had taken. If you had been stronger, if you hadn’t needed saving, maybe she wouldn’t have become a killer. Maybe Rio wouldn’t have left. Maybe your family wouldn’t feel so fractured, even in such moments.

You tightened your hold on Nicky as if to ward off the weight of your thoughts. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to your struggles, and the fire crackled softly at your feet. You closed your eyes, letting the night’s quiet lull you into a fragile peace.

But as the night deepened and the fire burned low, your thoughts turned darker. You couldn’t let this continue. Agatha carried the weight of her actions for you, and the love that drove her to do so was breaking her. You couldn’t stand to watch her bear that burden any longer.

Your jaw tightened, your resolve solidifying. It was time to end this. Agatha had fought long enough and sacrificed too much. You owed her more than just gratitude. You owed her freedom—from the guilt, the killing, the endless hunt.

You stroked Nicky’s hair one last time, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. As you stared into the embers of the dying fire, your heart ached with the enormity of what you would have to do.

It’s time, you thought to yourself. Time to end this and free her from the burden.

The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that pressed heavily on your ears and amplified the flicker of dying embers. You sat near the fire, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the soft blanket draped over your legs. Nicky was fast asleep in the tent behind you, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His peaceful slumber was a reminder of innocence untouched by the turmoil surrounding your family. He had your resilience, Agatha’s sharpness, and—painfully—Rio’s depth, a complexity he carried in his quiet moments and, most strikingly, in his radiant smile.

Agatha was away for the night, having gone to a nearby town to gather supplies. Before leaving, she had lingered, her eyes scanning the perimeter as she conjured a powerful magical shield around the campsite. “Nothing gets in,” she’d said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You and Nicky are safe.”

You had nodded, offering her a faint smile as she reluctantly departed, though the unease in your chest lingered. Even with Agatha’s magic protecting you, the absence of her presence felt like a vulnerability you couldn’t shake. Tonight, that vulnerability sharpened, your senses pricking as the air shifted.

It was faint but unmistakable—a presence, cold and familiar, brushing against your awareness like an unseen hand.

“Rio,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. You didn’t need to look. You knew she was there.

From the shadows, she emerged, her figure cloaked in an ethereal shimmer. The faint moonlight caught her dark eyes, making them glint like polished onyx as she stepped closer. She looked just as you remembered—beautiful, commanding, hauntingly familiar. Yet now, she carried something else: an aura of power that was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling. She was Death, and she was here for you.

“You always know when I’m near,” Rio murmured, her voice low and melodic, resonating with a weight that tugged at your soul.

You exhaled shakily, turning to meet her gaze. “How could I not?” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re a part of me, Rio. You always have been.”

Rio’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, her movements deliberate. The firelight flickered across her sharp features, casting her face in a blend of light and shadow. “It’s been years,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of grief and regret. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“You left,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “You walked away when I needed you most.”

Rio flinched, her gaze faltering briefly before returning to yours. “You were dying,” she said quietly. “And I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stand to watch her sacrifice everything for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head. “She’s destroying herself,” you whispered. “Killing witches, taking their power, becoming someone I barely recognise. All for me.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her shoulders squaring. “I warned her. There’s always a price.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What’s my price, Rio? To watch her turn into this? To let Nicky grow up with a mother consumed by darkness?”

Rio knelt in front of you, her movements slow and deliberate. Her hand hovered near your cheek, trembling slightly, but she didn’t touch you. “You know what you’re asking,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Take me,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “If that’s what it takes to save her, to save Nicky, then take me.”

Rio’s dark eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing deeply as her voice hardened. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“Yes, I do,” you said firmly, your voice steadier now. “You’re Death, Rio. You can end this. You can give her peace. You can give Nicky a mother who’s still herself, not someone breaking under the weight of everything she’s done.”

Rio rose abruptly, her figure towering over you as her cloak of shadows shifted and swirled. “You think it’s that simple? That taking you will fix everything?”

You stood too, squaring your shoulders despite the trembling in your frame. “I don’t care if it doesn’t fix everything,” you said fiercely. “I just want it to stop. I want her to stop hurting herself. I want Nicky to have the mother he deserves.”

Rio’s gaze softened, but her voice remained firm. “And what about you? Do you think Agatha will survive losing you?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you glanced toward the tent where Nicky slept. “She’ll survive,” you said softly, tears spilling freely now. “She’ll survive because Nicky needs her. She’ll hate you for it, but she’ll survive. For him.”

Rio’s silence stretched unbearably between you, her dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, trembling faintly. “You’re asking me to do what I couldn’t before.”

“I’m asking you to save her,” you said, stepping closer to her. “Please.”

Rio’s hands trembled as she reached out again, this time cupping your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache. Her cold touch sent a shiver through you, but it wasn’t fear—it was grief, love, and finality all woven into one. “F/N,” she murmured.

For a moment, she hesitated, her dark eyes searching yours. Then, with a trembling breath, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was desperate and tender, filled with all the things you couldn’t say. It was both an ending and a beginning, a goodbye and a promise.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against hers as you whispered, “Please. End this.”

Rio closed her eyes, her breath trembling against your skin. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice breaking. Then, in a movement so swift and gentle it felt like a dream, her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into an embrace as the world faded.

The fire’s glow dimmed, and the stars above blurred into nothingness. All that remained was the sensation of Rio’s cold lips brushing against your forehead one last time, and the weight of her love and sorrow as she carried you away.

The dawn broke the light yet to be touching the forest. Agatha stirred, her body weary from the journey to the nearby town. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she imagined Nicky’s excitement when she returned with the small treats he had begged for. She turned over, expecting to find F/N resting beside her, warm and safe.

“F/N,” Agatha murmured softly, reaching out. Her fingers brushed against the cool fabric of the blanket draped over F/N’s sleeping form. Something about the stillness of her body made Agatha’s stomach twist.

“F/N?” Agatha’s voice sharpened, her eyes flying open as she sat up, leaning closer. Her hand cupped F/N’s cheek, and the icy chill of her skin sent a jolt through her chest.

“No. No, no, no.” Her voice cracked, panic gripping her as she shook F/N gently at first, then more forcefully. “Wake up, doll. Please, wake up.”

But F/N didn’t move. Her body remained lifeless, her serene face untouched by the pain that now tore through Agatha. Her lips still carried the faintest hint of a smile, as if she had left in peace. It was a look that should have comforted Agatha, but it only shattered her further.

Nicky stirred in his bedroll nearby, his small murmurs pulling Agatha momentarily back to the present. She glanced at him, her heart pounding as if hoping against reason that this was some kind of nightmare. But when her gaze returned to F/N, reality hit with the force of a tidal wave.

She leaned over F/N, her hands trembling as she whispered desperate words, magic crackling faintly at her fingertips. She tried everything—spells, incantations, pouring what energy she could into F/N’s unresponsive form. But no amount of magic could undo what had already been done.

And then she felt it.

Her head snapped up, her icy eyes locking on the treeline in the distance. A shimmer of movement caught her attention, and she stood abruptly, her body trembling with rage and grief.

Rio.

The figure stepped into view, her form cloaked in shadows, her dark eyes glinting with an emotion that Death rarely showed—sorrow. She stood silently, her head bowing slightly as Agatha approached, her steps quick and unrelenting.

“You,” Agatha spat, her voice a venomous growl as she stormed toward Rio. Purple sparks of magic crackled at her fingertips, barely restrained as her fury boiled over. “You took her from me. You took her!”

Rio didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her gaze heavy with emotion. “She asked me,” Rio said quietly, her voice steady but pained. “She chose this, Agatha. For you. For Nicky.”

“Don’t you dare tell me this was her choice!” Agatha screamed, her magic flaring uncontrollably around her. “She was mine, Rio! Mine to love, mine to protect! And you took her—just like you always take everything!”

Rio’s composure faltered, the weight of Agatha’s words slicing through her. “She was dying,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Slowly. Painfully. She couldn’t bear to watch you destroy yourself, to watch Nicky lose both his mothers.”

Agatha’s magic lashed out, striking the ground near Rio, causing the earth to tremble. “And now he’s lost her anyway!” she roared. “He’s lost her, and it’s your fault!”

Rio stood motionless, her shoulders sagging under the weight of Agatha’s anger. “It’s my fault,” she admitted quietly. “But it’s also what she wanted. Her last kiss, her last breath—they were mine. She gave them to me so you could live, so Nicky could have you.”

Agatha’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, her hands clawing at the dirt as a raw, animalistic sob tore from her throat. “You took her from me,” she whispered brokenly, her voice barely audible. “You took my heart.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements hesitant. She crouched beside Agatha, her hand hovering over her shoulder before finally resting there gently. “I loved her too,” Rio murmured, her voice cracking. “I always did.”

When Agatha finally returned to the tent, Nicky was awake, crouched beside F/N’s still form. His small hands rested on hers, his tiny fingers trembling as he gently shook her shoulder. His wide eyes, filled with confusion, turned to Agatha as she entered. “Mummy won’t wake up,” he said softly, his voice quivering. “Why won’t she wake up?”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat as her heart shattered anew. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she pulled him into her arms. He came willingly, clutching her tightly as if she could provide the answers he sought.

“She’s gone, sweetheart,” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking as she stroked his hair. “Mummy’s gone.”

Nicky stiffened in her arms, his small sobs breaking free as he buried his face in her shoulder. Agatha held him tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, her tears falling freely as she whispered soothing words.

After a long moment, Nicky’s tearful voice broke the heavy silence. “Where did she go? Is she… gone forever?”

Agatha swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. She leaned back slightly, cupping his tear-streaked face with both hands. “She’s not gone forever, my little star,” she said softly, her blue eyes glistening. “She’s up there now, with the stars, watching over you.”

Nicky sniffled, his eyes lifting to the darkening sky outside the tent. “Like… a star?”

Agatha nodded, her lips trembling as she forced a small smile. “Yes, sweetheart. Mummy’s become the brightest star up there. She’ll always be looking down on you, protecting you, loving you, no matter where you are.”

Nicky’s gaze lingered on the sky, his sobs quieting as the weight of her words settled. “Will she ever come back?” he whispered, his voice trembling with hope.

Agatha’s chest ached, but she kept her voice gentle. “No, love,” she said, stroking his hair. “But every time you look up at the stars, you’ll see her. And she’ll always be with us in our hearts.”

Nicky nodded slowly, his small hands clutching the feather he had been holding earlier. “Do you think she’ll see me if I wave to her?”

Agatha’s tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she kissed his forehead. “I know she will, darling. She’ll see you, and she’ll be so proud of you.”

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Agatha sat motionless, cradling Nicky as he drifted in and out of restless sleep. Her mind churned with plans, questions, and the single, searing truth that F/N was gone. The weight of her grief pressed down on her, unrelenting, as Nicky’s small body trembled against hers.

Hours passed, and as the day slipped into evening, Agatha rose silently. Her movements were stiff as she began to build a pyre, each action a painful reminder of what she was about to do. The wood creaked under her hands, and the firelight danced faintly in the distance as the stars began to appear.

When the pyre was ready, Agatha carried F/N’s body carefully from the tent, her arms trembling under the weight of love and loss. She cradled F/N as though she were still alive, her face serene, untouched by the agony that gripped Agatha’s heart. Agatha laid her atop the pyre with the same tenderness she had shown her in life, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Nicky stood nearby, clutching a small black feather he had found earlier. His young face was streaked with tears, and he looked at Agatha with wide, questioning eyes. She knelt beside him, brushing a tear from his cheek. “She’s with the stars now, sweetheart,” Agatha whispered, her voice soft but trembling. “She’s watching over us.”

“Will she see me?” Nicky asked, his voice quivering as he glanced at the sky.

Agatha pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Always,” she said. “She’ll see you every time you smile, every time you look up at the stars. She’ll be so proud of you.”

Nicky nodded slowly, his small hands gripping the feather tightly as Agatha rose and whispered a spell. The flames flickered to life, their glow illuminating the grief etched into her features. Nicky’s tearful gaze stayed on the fire, and he raised the feather as if offering it to the sky. Agatha stood beside him, her hand firmly holding his.

As the fire consumed the only love Agatha had ever truly known, she stood tall, her grief mingling with her resolve. She didn’t speak; there were no words for the depth of her sorrow. But as the flames burned low, she whispered into the night, “I’ll protect him, F/N. I promise.”

Together, they sat quietly as the last embers faded into ash. Nicky stared up at the darkening sky, his eyes scanning for the star Agatha had promised would now guide him. Agatha held him close, her arms wrapping tightly around his small form. Her heart ached, but there was a faint comfort in knowing that F/N’s love would always shine, forever watching over the child they had both cherished.

Somewhere, far beyond the veil, Rio watched silently. Her dark eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned and dissolved into shadow once more.

Death moved on, as it always did. But this time, it carried the weight of a love it could never claim.

Years passed, and time softened the edges of Agatha’s pain, though it never truly faded. She and Nicky settled in a small, quiet town, far from the memories of the past. Agatha raised him with fierce love, determined to honour F/N’s sacrifice by giving Nicky the life she would have wanted for him.

Nicky grew into a strong and kind-hearted young man, his laughter a balm to Agatha’s weary soul. He inherited F/N’s quiet determination and Rio’s sharp instincts, and though he sometimes asked about his mother, Agatha always told him the truth.

“She loved you more than anything,” Agatha would say, her voice soft but steady. “She gave everything so you could live, so we could be together. She’s always with us, Nicky. In you, in me. Always.”

And sometimes, when Nicky smiled, Agatha’s chest ached with bittersweet emotion. She thought back to when you used to say his smile was Rio’s—mischievous, radiant, and full of life. And maybe you were right. But for Agatha, every time Nicky smiled, she didn’t see Rio. She saw you. She saw the warmth in your eyes, the love you poured into every moment, and the strength that had carried their family through even the darkest of times. Nicky’s smile wasn’t just Rio’s or yours—it was a blend of all the love that had created him.

In the quiet moments of the night, Agatha swore she could feel your presence—the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter. On those nights, she would sit outside under the stars, staring at the sky and wondering which star was yours, watching over them. It was enough to keep her going, enough to remind her that even in death, love never truly faded.

It lived on. In memory, in laughter, in Nicky’s smile.

Forever.

---RAR---

The sky stretched endlessly, painted in hues of gold and lavender, as Agatha opened her eyes. The world around her was soft, timeless, an ethereal plane that hummed with peace. She blinked, her crystal blue eyes taking in the surreal landscape. For a moment, she felt weightless, free of the burdens she’d carried for so long.

“You’re here,” Rio’s voice broke the stillness, steady and familiar. Agatha turned to find her standing there, her black hair cascading like a dark river. Her face was calm, yet her deep brown eyes carried the weight of centuries—a mix of sorrow and acceptance.

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So, it’s done,” she said softly, no bitterness in her tone, just quiet resignation.

Rio nodded. “You lived well, Agatha. For Nicky, for yourself. For her.”

The mention of F/N sent a pang through her, though it was no longer sharp. It was more like a gentle tug, a reminder of a love that had burned brighter than anything in her life. “And now?”

Rio tilted her head, her gaze warm despite its depth. “Now, I guide you. As I do all souls.”

Agatha scoffed lightly, though there was no real bite in her voice. “Is that what you told F/N?”

Rio didn’t flinch, her expression softening. “No. She waited for you. She didn’t need my guidance. She knew exactly where she wanted to be.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her stoic exterior faltering for a moment. “She waited?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Always,” Rio replied simply, stepping aside and gesturing toward the horizon.

Agatha turned, and there she was.

F/N stood under a sprawling tree atop a gentle hill, her hair shining in the soft, eternal light. She was dressed simply, her form radiant, as though untouched by the years and hardships they had endured together. As Agatha stared, F/N seemed to sense her gaze and turned. A smile broke across her face—warm, familiar, and full of love.

Agatha’s legs moved before she could think, her steps quickening until she was running up the hill. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching with every step. When she reached the top, F/N opened her arms without hesitation.

“Welcome home, Agatha,” F/N said softly, her voice carrying the same tender warmth it always had.

Agatha stumbled into her embrace, her arms wrapping around F/N tightly as tears streamed down her face. She clung to her as though she might vanish, but F/N held her just as firmly, grounding her.

“I’m sorry,” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking. “For everything—for failing you, for—”

“Shh,” F/N murmured, pulling back just enough to cup Agatha’s face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears as her eyes searched Agatha’s. “You didn’t fail me. You gave me everything. And now we have forever.”

Agatha closed her eyes, leaning into F/N’s touch. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of guilt, pain, and loneliness lifted. She felt whole again.

A soft sound drew Agatha’s attention, and she turned to see Rio walking up the hill toward them. Her usual sharpness was tempered by something lighter—a sense of belonging. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze meeting Agatha’s briefly before shifting to F/N.

“I couldn’t stay away,” Rio said, her voice tinged with emotion. “Not anymore.”

F/N smiled warmly, extending her hand toward Rio. “We’ve been waiting for you, too.”

Rio hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, taking F/N’s hand in her own. Agatha watched as F/N guided Rio to sit with them under the tree, the three of them settling into a comfortable, familiar closeness that felt like coming home.

The breeze carried their laughter, soft and unburdened, as they spoke of everything and nothing. Nicky’s name came up often, their love for him weaving through their conversation like a golden thread. Though separated by the veil, they knew his life was their greatest legacy—a living testament to the love they had shared.

As the eternal sun warmed their skin, Agatha looked between F/N and Rio, her heart swelling with a peace she hadn’t known in years. This was home—not a place, but the people who had shaped her, loved her, and stood by her through it all.

The three of them sat together, their fingers intertwined, and for the first time, Agatha truly understood. They were together, they were whole, and they were finally at peace.

Forever.

[velvet-paradox]

Redeemed

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: König x Female reader Summary: While helping your boyfriend do a little spring cleaning, you come across his old gear. You've seen him wear it in pictures but to have him put it on for you… Length: Medium/Long Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, kinda' sorta' roleplay even though is himself, degradation, name calling, fingering, pussy slapping, edging, p in v (unprotected, wrap it up!), creampie, oral (f & m receiving), detailed smut. ENJOY!!!

beg me for it (bitte mich darum) my love (meine liebe) my honey bee (meine honigbiene)

"What about this one?" You call out, shifting a rather large cardboard box away from the dusty window. You sneezed for the tenth time. Helping your boyfriend clean out his attic before the fall came. You'd gone through old clothes, holey jackets, boxes of books, notepads dated from before you two had started seeing one another.

"Nein. That is just some old paperwork, put it over there by the others." König answered, tearing open a box of his own at the opposite side of the attic. It wasn't a big space, it did not accommodate his size at all as he was crouched down in a squat. His ass looked great, you thought as he was none the wiser of your ogling.

You moved another box and saw a big, beige duffel bag high on a shelf. It called out to you.

TAKE ME DOWN! TAKE ME DOWN!

"What's this?" You mumbled, mostly to yourself as you reached up on your tip toes, hands reaching out for the thick black straps.

"What's what, meine honigbiene?"

"Whatever it is it's fuckin' heavy! Ow!" The bag came down, hard against your chest making you topple over into yet another cloud of dust. Like clouds of it making the air up here a little thicker than need be.

"Be careful, my dear." König said, spinning on his feet. He coughed and you heard him walk over to you. He wasn't a gentle stepping giant by any means. "Oh liebe don't look in there-"

You unzipped the bag just as he reached you, his hands on top of yours to stop you but it was too late. You saw a helmet that resembled a spider, there was another mask that looked similar to Simon's, along with an array of secured weapons and flares. "This is your old gear."

"Ja." König hummed behind you, pulling out a foreign piece of material to you, completely nostalgic for the man. You'd seen it in pictures around his home but to see these key pieces of his past self was something different. Vulnerable. König mused over a pack of unopened flares, a few ammunition magazines. "I haven't put on the mask in so long… there was a time, believe it or not that I never took it off. Only to wash it of course but, this was my face. This was König."

"Will you put it on for me?" An intrusive thought popped in your head like champagne bubbles. You bit your lip before your brain could short circuit that you would ask such a thing. You knew he was an operator, high ranking, cultured and experienced. He'd mention some things in passing that were a bit on the grim and dark side. He'd dealt with the trauma and guilt, what he had to do to survive, to make it out and up rank. To be praised for his hard work and dedication.

"The mask? Certainly not. That version of me is over, I couldn't begin to tell you what that man has done, who I'd become if I were to put this thing back on. 's not for your pretty little eyes, honigbiene."

"Bitte? Just once. For me."

"Oh no, don't start with talking my language to get what you want."

König held your face with the other hand, shoving his mask back into the duffel, he kissed your head. "And don't pout, you're face will remain that way."

….

You heard him before you saw him. Sure he wore boots, custom Doc Marten's to be exact, so hearing him clunk around wasn't out of the ordinary but- he sounded heavy. The sounds of his outfit, the light SWISH of his standard issue pants got closer, he was getting closer.

You covered your face with your hands. You had to. It felt like instinct. Once König was in the living room with you, the air felt different. Your skin felt hot even though a chill went down your spine once he stopped walking. You heard his gloves creak. He cleared his throat and tapped his foot.

The only coherent thought once your eyes adjusted to the sight before you, was a gentle "Oh."

Your lover was… fucking massive. The way his shoulders rounded, he stood a little taller, a little prouder. That glitter in his blue eyes let you in on the smirk that laid hidden behind his black and red streaked mask. Especially with his hands behind his back, standing at attention.

Helmet, vest, forearm plates, shin guards, enough cargo pockets to put damn near anything but the kitchen fucking sink.

"Do like what you see, my dear? Your legs are practically falling open for me."

He wasn't lying.

Sat on the couch, your legs moved apart at the sight of him covered head to toe in tactical gear.

"What do you think?" König asked, rocking in place. His waist looked good enough to eat. The urge to bite him all over was overwhelming and you'd be lying if you told yourself this wasn't a major turn on, or that you were in fact getting excited. The damage, the chaos, the bloodshed he'd left behind while wearing his tactical gear made you itchy.

"It's different. I mean, I've seen pictures of you in your gear but. Woah. It makes you look… bigger." You spoke with your hands as he nodded slowly.

König moved one of his hands from behind his back, made a fist then motioned for you to come towards him. You did so on shaky legs and tiny feet. He towered over you on a usual day, he's a behemoth of a man and yet when you looked up and up at him, you couldn't help but feel like a bug. An insect about to be squashed.

"You wanted to see me in my uniform," König softly spoke, putting his gloved middle finger under your chin and gave it a light tap. "Here I am. Up close and personal."

You licked your lips. "What did you do in it?"

"Everything. Fight. Kill. Fuck."

Your eyes darkened. You weren't a jealous person and obviously he'd had a life before you much like you did yourself. But to hear him speak so clearly, so thorough, clinical even about the adventures he'd had in this attire had you weak.

"Will you fuck me in it?"

König snorted, his mask puffing out a little with his breath. "You're quite serious?"

You nodded.

"Then I am afraid mein liebe… it wouldn't be me that fucked you if that's what you're looking for."

You furrowed your eyebrows until his words started to make sense, stringing and looping together to make loose ends meet.

Of course you would be fucking your lover but… with him dressed in his old gear, old habits would die fucking hard. He'd be König, your König. But if you wanted him like this… you would be fucking KorTac's colonel.

….

König grabbed you by the waist and pushed you up against the wall behind him, grabbing both of your hands in just one of his, the rubber pads of his gloves marking up your skin. You gasped. He chuckled and dug around in one of those cargo pockets on the front of his vest, without breaking eye contact he pulled out a pair of zip tie handcuffs.

They dug into your flesh, pinching just enough to air on the uncomfortable side, in front of you before König pushed himself up against your back, mentioning that if you were to refer to him as anything other than sir or colonel you were to be sorely punished. Spanked within reason. Broken with trust. Fingered without mercy in any hole of his choosing. You clenched around nothing.

You felt the foreign pockets of his vest dug into your shoulders, he circled his hips against your rear with a low hum that vibrated through you.

"You've got yourself a safeword, have you?"

"Mhmmm. Pocket knife."

"Good girl." König praised in your ear, grunting when he slipped his hand between your thighs, clicking his teeth when you wiggled back against him. "Spoke too soon, apparently. You're radiating heat, honigbiene. Are you wet? Should I inspect?"

"Bitte."

König snarled and grabbed your leggings and yanked them down to your ankles, he moaned when he realized you weren't wearing anything else underneath. He moved his hand to the front of your face.

"Take it off."

"How?"

"Bite down."

You whined and took his glove between your teeth, he pulled his hand out and cupped your sex. You writhed in his hold. His hand was so hot and so big and it felt so damn good between your legs.

"Wet already? What a little horny thing you are, my dear. You like this don't you? Pinned down, held in place, vulnerable in the best way possible. "Give in to me, biene. Give in to your colonel."

You yelped when his fingers, testing your leaky entrance for awhile, coating the pads and finally breached your hole, splitting your folds apart to get to the softest, spongiest, spot inside you.

"Well well…" König pressed his face to the back of your head. "What have we here? Is this turning you on, biene? The way your sweet little pussy keeps sucking in my finger is giving me the answer your voice cannot."

"Please!"

"Please what, my dear?" He asked, making his palm flat, your clit throbbed and ached to be touched, the friction of it hitting once more as he fingered you deeper, his thick thumb tapping the hood of it gently which each thrust.

Suspended between bliss and absolute torture, your body betraying you by twisting and rocking back and forth, pushing yourself back against his ministrations with your hands splayed on the wall in front of you.

"I need more."

"More what?"

"More of you. Inside me, König."

He tsked and removed his hand completely, making you hang your head in shame.

"Failure so soon, pet? Gonna' have to work on that," his heavy presence and warmth left you too suddenly, he peeled himself off your back and turned you around once more, eyeing your lower half. "You can be obedient, can't you honigbiene? Desperate to be a good girl for me. Show me your dedication."

König thudded his big boots over to the couch, plopping down with too much weight the whole scooted back at least an inch, legs splayed out wide, hands on his thighs. His still gloved one patted an inner thigh.

It proved to be difficult to shimmy over to him with your leggings around your ankles, stuck to your crew socks. You were careful not to slip on the silky material. It felt hamulating to shuffle over like that but also the way you needed to keep your knees together, your thighs together, rubbed your sex deliciously.

Once in front of him, he rubbed the warm skin of your outer thighs, then between them spreading your legs apart until the fabric of your legging tugged and pulled at your feet.

When his gloved hand slapped against your cunt you jumped. "Bad girl. What two names we're you given to address me?"

You whined, locking your fingers together, desperately wanting to close your legs. You were already a pulsating mess but this… oh this was something else.

"Tell me!"

"Sir." You jumped.

"And?"

"Colonel."

"Good job, biene. And what do you just call me?"

"Kön--König."

Another slap to your center made you shut your eyes and bite your lip.

"Did I not promise punishment if you did not behave."

"I forgot!" You whined and twitched when he switched hands, teasing your entrance once more, just pressing, not intruding, just letting you know he could pierce through you. " 'm sorry, sir. I won't forget again."

"Hmph. We'll see about that."

König is a very calculated man, knew how to draw you i like a moth to a light source. He grabbed you, pushing you down to the couch with a bounce and grabbed at your legs, kneeling down in front of you. He pulled off his vest to reveal the tightest looking thermal shirt, it made his muscles look huge, he could choke you out in seconds with how they moved. And that made you wet and weak to the manhandling of your body. His hands pulled at the back of your knees, just your lower back on the cushion now and he hooked your legs over his massive shoulders.

"Show me your pussy, baby. Go on, open her on up for me now." With your bound hands and aching sex, the way his eyes fixated as you spread your legs.

"Good job, pretty. So wet. I think I just saw her clench, are we needy biene?"

"Yes sir! I am I am so fucking needy for you."

"Good." König moaned as he lifted up the hem of his mask, licked his fingers and spread your folds before diving in to worship you.

….

He had you where he wanted you, tettering on the edge of the couch cushions, lost in pleasure as König ate you out, tongue fucked your cunt, spat on your asshole until you screamed for mercy. Grabbing at his hair. The hot and cold juxtaposition from his tongue ring brought your orgasm closer and closer.

"Colonel bitte, I can't… I can't take much more." You sobbed and bucked your hips up into his face, he chuckled darkly, smacking his lips and moaning as you felt the bridge and tip of his nose bump up against your clit.

"You're gonna' take a lot more once you cum," König groaned, rubbing all of his fingers, rather quickly over your pussy, making you feral. "Oh biene, can you hear that? You're fucking pussy is juicing up just right, you're gonna' cum aren't you, princess? Cum all over my fingers or my face, you've redeemed yourself so far."

"I um I--"

"Keep them open now. Come on pretty thing, I am giving you an option and if you don't use your words I'll just-"

"I'm so close, please!" You whine, tilting your head just right to watch in awe and bliss how fast you were losing control, your legs jerked against the sides of his head.

"That's not what I asked, sweetie."

"Fingers! Please colonel, fuck. Fing-ger fuck me, make me cum please." You sounded pathetic but it was just too much, his mouth, his fingers, his words and sprinkles of praise lit you up like the Fourth of Fucking July.

He quickly switched tactics, as he usually did to keep you on your toes. On edge for what he'd planned for you two next. But this complete dominance, his control, left you dizzy.

Instead of curling his two fingers deep into your core, hollowing you out to make room for his thick cock, he turned his wrist, palm down as he rocked them into that way. Magnificent.

You squirmed and squealed and shouted out profanities in English and a few you'd learned from your lover, like you were speaking in tongues.

Almost there, almost there, almosttherealmosttherealmostthere…

Then-- there was nothing.

No fingers, no mouth, no tongue!

You opened your eyes to see König standing above you, taking off his belt, unzipping his pants.

"I was so close."

"I know," he tilted his head and took his cock out. You clenched around nothing, licking your lips when he moved the mask just out of the way for him to spit on his own dick. You loved watching him do that. The first time you two had sex, he spat on it while staring at you, a smirk on his handsome and scarred face. It was hot then and even hotter every time after.

His boots pounded against the floor, jerking himself off as he got closer, slapping his cock against your pussy, your arousal making the stickiest noises to fill his living room.

"Colonel!"

"What a needy little slut. Just a little bit foreplay and you're a fucking mess, look at you. You think you deserve to cum, have you earned it?"

"You said I, you said I was gonna' be redeemed." Tears filled your eyes as he slapped your inner thighs, one after the other. He then dragged his nails down your heated flesh.

"Changed my mind, now sit up and open your fucking mouth." König helped you by placing his hard and cold shin guards against your knees and helped to push up. "Lift up your shirt too."

With the way your hands were bound, thumb to thumb in a praying motion, proved to be a little too difficult and König was getting impatient. So he grunted and grabbed your shirt, yanked it up, your tits spilling out from your bra and on a whim, it seemed, he just hooked it around the back of your head. On perverse display.

"That's much better. You look like a fuck toy, is that what you are, baby? Just a hole to fill, keep my fat cock safe and warm. No teeth. Stick out your tongue." König barked at you. Cursing something in German soon after you obliged, followed orders.

He plopped his cock against your tongue, you could faintly taste yourself on it, mixed with the beads of pre-cum. Delicious. You moaned around his length, his hand on the back of your skull, which he could easily squeeze and crush it in an instant, and had you bobbing, and gagging and drooling over it.

König made the dirtiest sound, low in his throat as he face fucked you, every time you pleaded with your eyes for a little release he'd slap your cunt again. Over and over until it was sore. Your clit aching and throbbing for some attention, your pussy reacting to his purposeful ministrations to make you as messy and sticky as possible.

Your König did not treat you this way, at all. In fact he made love you almost every night, claiming feeling you there, on him, in you felt safe. Comfortable. You were home. So this filthy pace, his thumb pressing down on your clit, that twisted look in his eyes as he watched you slobber all over him, down your neck and over your chest was a sign of delight.

"What a good little throat slut you're being honig, just delightful! You suck me down like you were made for it, were sweetheart, were you made to suck this cock so well?" He chuckled and finally pulled off when you nodded dumbly.

"Good girl, now then," he sighed and took a step back, a heavy string of saliva connected your swollen lips to the crown of his cock. "Do you prefer to look at me while I take you, or do you prefer to be hollowed out on your hands and knees?"

"Both." Came out of your mouth like you'd had one too many, trying to catch your breath.

"Both? You are greedy. Come here now! Hold still." He grabbed your hands and lifted you to your feet like it was nothing, and held them up above your head, your wrists screaming. "Keep them there."

He tore off the other glove and pulled down the cups of your bra, uncaring that your spit would be all over his palms as he kneaded your breasts, thumbed over your nipples.

"Oh colonel, please sir, that feels really good. Keep going."

"Sounds like it, you are so… breathy." You could hear the smile in his voice, his voice low and swirled with lust. "I love these tits so much, I just…"

He was on his knees faster than you could blink, for a man of his stature he's quite swift. He lifted his mask once more and mouthed of your breasts, groaning and growling and holding you close under the ribs, pulling at you to get further into his mouth. "I love you."

"Th-thank you sir. I love you too." You tried to remain calm but this fucking behemoth was working you over and for fucks sake would he fuck you already. You could another flood of desire and wetness slip through your folds as he licked and sucked. That damn tongue ring was worth the investment.

He pulled off your left nipple with a light pop and got back up to his feet and spun you around, you fell over on to the couch the long way, scrambling with your hands to push yourself up and into position, only to have your lover mold you to his liking. Whacking your thigh and hoisting up your hips against his groin.

"Now pretty thing… say that again for me, say it back to König."

"Oh fuck."

You did eventually find your voice after being rocked back and forth, his cock slipping in between your legs, gathering more and more of your arousal, the head of his cock bumping into your clit on purpose. He pushed into you slow for the first inch, feeling your walls spasm made him pause for a moment before you gave the go ahead with a pat to knee underneath you. He split you open, humming at the sounds coming from you, wiggling and trying to fit him all the way in at this angle. He pulled all the way out, spread your cheeks and spat once more before easing his way back in. Only to do it again and again, moaning how perfect you looked all gaped and wanting.

He fucked you hard and fast after that, the cushions feeling scratchy against your sensitive skin, your heated and exposed chest and stomach. The jangle of his belt knocking against your hip, the crotch of his pants getting soaked with your juices. He's never been this harsh before!

"Can't say anything, can you biene? Good. You don't need to fuckin' talk, just give and take. Feels so good."

"You always f-feel good, sir."

"Good answer!" was followed by a hard spank as he pounded into you even more before stopping all together to circle his hips and rub against that spongy bit that made you holler.

"Sir! Can I cum now? Bitte, I've been so good. Please?" You gasped into the cushions, your face wet with drool from all your whining and moaning. Your shoulder pushed deeper into it.

"Ja, ja! Cum on my cock, honigbiene. Cum for König."

You instantly came.

And came some more.

He couldn't wait for you to face him, see him in all his glory. So he gripped your shoulder, fisted your shirt for extra leverage and rolled you onto your back. He flicked one of your nipples harshly, enjoying the reaction and sunk back into your cunt.

Unrelenting as König massaged you from the inside out, letting you push and pull him back in like the tide. You arched and damn near fell off the couch but he caught you, cradling your hips, slipping off your socks and leggings, chucking them to the ground his his vest.

"Keep holding yourself open for me, honig. You're doing such a good job, what a good girl you turned out to be tonight hmmm?" König said while spitting on and stroking his cock again above you.

"Please sir, I'm begging you to fill me. I need to be stretched out." You cried, keeping your legs open was tedious at this point but necessary to get what you wanted.

"Bitte mich darum."

The wheels of your brain started to reel, you knew the words separately so… oh.

"I need it, colonel. I need you so badly, inside me sir, bitte bitte."

"Wanna' cum together, pretty girl. Show me that face."

He grunted when saw you smile and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck, drawing him in.

"Do one thing for me honig, grab my cock, that's it," König moaned around your fist, feeling your juices on your palm as he shifted. "Can you guide me in, show me the way?"

You rubbed the head of him between your lips.

"That's it."

You helped him glide back home, in and out, safe within the confines of your pussy. His neck rolled under your hands and you moved up your pelvis. He sunk in deeper.

"Good girl now," he gulped, framing your head with his forearms, his chest lowering down to yours. "Fuck yourself with it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Fuck yourself with my cock, like you do with one of your toys."

In. Out. In. Out.

Just that simple action had you open mouthed and pouting at how good he felt. You already came hard once, another explosion was nearly the horizon the more you fit him in, the more fuller you felt. You used him as a fuck toy, crying out his title's, holding onto his mask.

"Kiss me."

König flipped the mask up enough to comply, he tasted salty and sweating. He fucked his tongue into your mouth to the rhythm of you fucking yourself. He grunted you name against your lips. You sucked on his tongue.

"I'm going to cum if you keep that up, honig."

"I want you to. I need you to. Cum inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You wanted me to beg for it so I am- oh fuck yeah. That's it."

"You fuck…"

You hurried your wrist, looking up at König, with his eyes trained on yours, thrusting into your hand to finish together.

….

König collapsed on top of you, panting and out of breathe and hot. Both in appearance and body heat. That black thermal of his came off at the lightning speed after he came. He hugged you tightly, resting his face in the crook of your neck as you stroke his back. Full, sated and complete.

"I did not hurt you, right? I was a little--"

"You were perfect," you breathed and kissed the top of his forehead, tracing the scars on his shoulder. "Can I ask you one thing, though?"

"Anything, honig." König said and looked at you with curious eyes.

"Can we do that again?" Tagging: @goblinmodetweeker @poohkie90 @satakingslime @wrenwrites @mochimycat @bowsforsienna