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parkerslatte · 3 months

Text

Fighter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: blood. injury. near death experience.

Summary: Azriel was severely injured on a mission and his chance of survival is low and his mate and wife refuses to leave his bedside.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

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Azriel was laid motionless in his bed. The only indication of life was the shallow rise and fall of his chest that seemed to get slower and slower day by day. On the left side of his bed, Rhys and Cassian sat looking helplessly at their brother before them. There wasn’t anything they could do for him no matter how much they wanted to.

Sitting on the right side of Azriel’s bed was Y/N. Her hand clutched his still and cold one between hers tightly. There were dried tears under her eyes as she looked at her mate and husband before her. The blanket covering his body did little to show the large scar staring from his hip and ending at his shoulder. It was an angry red but Madja had calmed everyone that the redness would go down with time.

“If only I didn’t send him on that stupid mission,” Rhys mumbled. “Then he wouldn’t be here.”

No one responded. The only sound heard was the rain hitting the window outside.

Y/N brushed Azriel’s hair away from his forehead. After the mission it had been caked with blood and grime and now after many washes it was soft to the touch. She only wished she could listen to his small content sighs as her fingernails scratched his scalp.

“Don’t blame yourself, Rhys,” Y/N replied after a while of silence. “He would have gone on that mission regardless.”

“But I could have gone with him,” Cassian said. “I could have protected him.”

“And possibly gotten yourself hurt as well,” Y/N responded, finally lifting her gaze to meet Cassian and Rhys. “Then we would be in a position where both of you could have been severely wounded.” Y/N’s gaze returned to Azriel. “I don’t wish for Nesta to feel the way I am right now.”

“You shouldn’t be feeling like this at all, Y/N,” Rhys said. “You two should be in your own house safe and sound.”

“Well that is an impossibility right now, Rhys.” Y/N’s tone was clipped and short. “I’m sorry to ask you this but could I be alone with him?”

Rhys and Cassian immediately got to their feet. “Of course,” Cassian responded.

“If you want or need anything Y/N, make sure to ask,” Rhys said as he placed his hand upon Y/N’s shoulder.

“I’ll be okay.” It was all Y/N said. It was all she could say.

When Rhys and Cassian left she barely heard them as she let fresh tears fall. “Az, you need to come back to me, baby.” Y/N shuffled her chair closer to the bed, her knees knocking painfully against it but she didn’t care. “I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes.”

There was no movement from Azriel and it only made Y/N’s tears fall in a more rapid succession.

“Madja healed you the best she could but she made no promises that you would wake up. But I need you to, my love. Please, just give me a sign that you are in there, please, just anything,” Y/N’s voice was full of desperation and she spoke to her husband. Y/N didn’t even know that something could be as painful as this.

Y/N watched Azriel for any sign of him listening to her. But there was nothing. No flicker of his eye under his eyelids. No stutter in his breathing. No twitch of his finger. There was absolutely nothing.

Y/N screamed.

***

The sun was high in the sky and Y/N stepped through the gate to her and Azriel’s cottage. It was on the edge of Velaris, far from the centre of the city. In her small wicker basket, Y/N had two fresh bouquets of flowers, courtesy of Elain. The blistering heat made Y/N wipe the sweat from her brow as she approached her front door, fishing the keys out of the basket.

As she went to place the key in the hole, she found that the door was open the smallest amount and Y/N’s guard immediately went up. As her grip tightened on the basket, she pushed the front door open. Their living room was large but cosy, filled with many blankets and pillows of all different textures. The windchimes hanging just beside the front door sounded out as a small breeze blew bast.

“Hello?” Y/N called out, reaching for the dagger concealed behind a painting Feyre gifted her.

However, Y/N immediately dropped the dagger and basket as her mate walked around the corner. A smile immediately spread across Y/N’s face as she launched herself at him.

“Hi, baby,” Azriel’s low voice whispered in her ear as she wrapped her arms around him. His arms making their way around her, his hand cradling her head.

“You weren’t meant to be back yet,” Y/N said.

“I finished what I needed to do early,” Azriel mumbled into her shoulder. “The first thing I did was come here, even Rhys doesn’t know I’m back.”

Y/N gripped onto him tighter, afraid that if she let him go, he would disappear. It had been two months since Rhys sent Azriel on a mission and it had been two months since Y/N had spoken to Azriel. The only contact she had with him was the wave of love he sent through the bond each night, but that was never enough. Y/N craved to hold him within her arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N replied. “I would have stayed here to wait for you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Azriel said.

“Well it has been the best surprise ever,” Y/N said, pulling away from the hug to capture Azriel’s lips with her own.

Azriel dropped his arms to her waist, wrapping them around her tightly. Y/N pulled away and rested her forehead on his. “I missed you so much,” she said looking into his eyes. The colour ingrained into her brain.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that I won’t be going on any missions for a while,” Azriel said.

“Why? Are you okay? Did Rhys tell you to take some time off?” Y/N asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought of the worst possible reasons.

Azriel smiled brightly. The smile only Y/N got to see. “I’m fine, Rhys doesn’t know that I am taking time off yet.”

“Then why are you? Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Y/N said, pecking his lips.

The smile on Azriel’s face only seemed to light up his face further. “Well since you and I are going to be planning a wedding, I will have no time for my duties.”

“Wedding?” Y/N asked. “What wedding?”

Azriel reached behind him. “Ours.” He revealed the most beautiful ring Y/N had ever seen. It was simple but it was perfect.

Y/N stumbled back. “Az, you can’t be serious?”

“I’m completely serious,” Azriel said. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“But we have already been mated for years and you have never mentioned anything about getting married,” Y/N said.

“I saw how you looked when Elain and Lucien got married,” Azriel said. “And I’ll be honest that I bought this ring nearly a year ago, long before the wedding.”

“You want to marry me?” Y/N said, tears springing to her eyes.

“I want nothing more in my life,” Azriel replied, taking her hand in his. “It would be an honour to call you my wife.”

A single tear fell down Y/N’s cheek but she smiled wide. “It would be an honour to call you my husband.”

“So is that a yes?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, Azriel. I will marry you.”

***

Y/N awoke with a smile on her face as she reached to the other side of the bed, searching for her husband’s warmth. Only when she opened her eyes did she realise what her reality was. Azriel was still laying in the bed and his breathing seemed even shallower than it had been before she fell asleep.

Her chair scraped the floor as she leaned closer to caress his face. His dark eyelashes rested delicately on his cheeks, Y/N had always been jealous of them. There was no small flutter of them at all. All Y/N wanted him to do was open his eyes. His beautiful eyes.

“Please,” Y/N whispered, her lips brushing his cheek. “Please wake up.”

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway. Y/N hadn’t heard her open it. “I brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, her voice void of emotion.

Feyre sighed and made her way further into the room. “You need to eat something, it’s been days.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, settling back in her seat but kept Azriel’s hand firmly clasped between hers.

“At least have a drink of water,” Feyre said, offering a glass to Y/N.

Y/N tore her gaze away from Azriel and looked at the glass Feyre was offering. She didn’t want to take it but her mouth was dry. With great reluctance, Y/N released one of her hands from Azriel’s and took the class of cool water.

“Have you been here all night?” Feyre asked.

“I haven’t left since he was brought in here,” Y/N answered. “I can’t leave.”

“I know that you don’t want to leave him, Y/N, but you need to take care of yourself too,” Feyre said gently. “Why don’t you get dressed in some clean clothes? I will stay here with Azriel and if he moves, I will immediately come and alert you.”

Y/N looked at her mate and husband laying on the bed. “I can’t leave because I know that if I do, there is the possibility that he stops breathing.” Tears glistened in Y/N’s eyes as she looked up at Feyre. “And I will regret for the rest of my life that I was not there with him while he passed.”

Feyre placed her hand on top of Y/N’s and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. “I have not known Azriel as long as you, Y/N. But what I do know about him is that he is a fighter. And above all, he will always fight for you, he will always fight to come back to you.”

Y/N sighed. “I know. And I will always fight for him. But this time it is different, Feyre. I have seen Az injured beyond what I thought could be possible. I have seen wounds like you would ever believe, but he powered through it. You never saw the look on his face when he appeared on the doorstep. He was scared, Feyre. I had never seen that look on his face before.”

Y/N took a shaky breath and stood from her chair and perched on the edge of Azriel’s bed. Her hand gently cupped his cheek.

“I had never seen such fear in his eyes. When he collapsed in my arms he whispered one thing in my ear, ‘I will always love you both’. He did not believe that he would survive. He risked everything so he could see me one last time.” Y/N said.

“‘I will always love you both’? What did he mean by that?” Feyre asked.

“I’m pregnant, Feyre,” Y/N said and allowed the enchantment that concealed her scent to fall. “We were going to tell everyone after he was home and we had a few days just to ourselves. But it seems like we will never get the chance. I can feel the bond fading every single minute. It feels like I am clutching at air trying to hold onto it.”

“He will wake up, Y/N,” Feyre said, determination lacing her tone. “Even if I have to wake him up myself, I will make sure he comes back to you. I will make sure he will meet his child.”

Tears fell freely down Y/N’s cheeks. “I really need him to come back, Feyre. I can’t do any of this without him.”

“He will wake up, Y/N. Az would never leave you alone. In the years I have known you both, I have never seen two people so in love with one another. Whenever you walk into the room, he lights up. Whenever your name is mentioned he listens in. Whenever you smile at him, his shadows always seem happier. He thinks no one notices but we all do.”

“I love him so much, Feyre,” Y/N sobbed. “I need him so badly.”

Feyre shuffled closer and hugged Y/N. “He will come back. You will get to hold him in your arms again. He will meet his child and the two of you will live happily. There is no possible way on this planet where Azriel would let you live in a world where he isn’t in it.”

Y/N nodded into Feyre’s shoulder. “You make him sound like a stalker.”

Feyre let out a quiet laugh as she pulled away and wiped the tears from Y/N’s face. “Now let’s get you some proper food. Because you know that Azriel will kill you if he finds out that you are not taking care of yourself.”

Y/N smiled. It is small and barely there but it was a smile. “Yeah, he would.”

“I need to make Nyx his lunch so what do you say about sandwiches?” feyre asked.

“Sandwiches are fine with me,” Y/N answered.

As Y/N began to pull her hand away from Azriel’s, she felt his fingertips curl around hers. He head snapped to where they were connected. A small gasp left Y/N’s lips as she clutched his hand a little tighter. In return she was greeted by his grip twitching within hers.

“He moved,” Y/N said. “He moved Feyre.”

A soft smile appeared on Feyre’s face. “He knows you’re here,” Feyre said. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As soon as Feyre was out of the room, Y/N sat back down by Azriel’s side. “Hey, baby. I miss you and love you.” Another gentle squeeze of Y/N’s hand. She smiled, tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait until you wake up. It may be many months away, but our child is desperate to meet you. They’re desperate to hear your voice again. And so am I. I can’t wait to listen to you tell me about your day, about how much you love our small family. I can wait to hear a stupid joke you heard that you will only ever tell me. I just can’t wait until you wake up.”

Azriel didn’t squeeze Y/N’s hand again but deep down Y/N knew that he heard it and knew that she was there. She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss against his knuckles before placing it down by his side once again. “I love you and I will see you later.”

***

It had been three days since Azriel had first squeezed Y/N’s hand and he had been making more movement since. His chest rose and fell in a healthier succession and there was the occasional twitch of his fingers, always in the direction of Y/N. Azriel was always reaching out in the direction of his mate and wife.

Y/N still constantly remained by Azriel’s side, but occasionally took breaks to look after herself and the baby growing within her. Y/N had taken the time to inform the rest of the Inner Circle about her pregnancy and the news was greeted with congratulations but Y/N could tell they were holding back. The one other person who should have been celebrating with them could not be there.

“I’m just saying that if it's a boy, you should name him after me,” Cassian said.

Y/N had found herself once again in the company of Rhys and Cassian. Both of the males wanted to sit beside their brother in hopes he would wake up. Unlike the first time the three had sat together, the atmosphere seemed to be a little lighter.

“Az is certain that it's a girl,” Y/N responded. “He wants to name them after his mother.”

Y/N looked down at Azriel with a small smile on her face. She could still picture his excitement when she told him that she was pregnant. Almost immediately he wanted to go out and start buying things for their child.

“That’s sweet, but Cass can still be a girl’s name,” Cassian remarked, a teasing grin on his face.

Y/N shook her head, a small amused smile creeping onto her face.

Cassian groaned. “Rhys, when you and Feyre have another kid, what about the name–”

“I’m not naming our second child after you either,” Rhys replied. “Maybe go and pester Elain and Lucien next.”

Cassian laughed. “I still think it's a great name. You are missing out.”

“I’m not naming my child after you, Cassian,” A new voice entered the room. It was quiet and groggy.

Y/N’s gaze immediately shot down to the bed and noticed that Azriel’s eyes were opening and the grip he had on her hand tightened.

Tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes. “Az…”

Azriel groaned as he shifted his head to look at Y/N. As soon as his eyes met hers, Y/N felt the bond come to life and that was when she broke down. So many emotions filled Y/N within seconds and she threw herself down on the bed, her head resting on Azriel’s chest.

“My love, I thought you were gone,” Y/N wailed.

Azriel slowly moved one of his hands to caress the back of her head. “I would never leave you. Either of you.” His voice was quiet and hoarse, yet Y/N could hear the love within it.

Y/N lifted her head to look at Azriel and noticed both Rhys and Cassian slowly making their way out of the room. She noticed the tears shining in their eyes.

“I never thought I would see you again,” Y/N said.

Azriel slowly pushed himself up on the bed, wincing in pain as he did so.

“No, no,” Y/N said, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve done enough resting,” Azriel said, settling back against the headboard. “All I want to do is look at my wife and hold her in my arms.”

Azriel gently tugged Y/N forward until her forehead rested on his. “I heard everything you said to me.” He revealed. “I tried to move, I tried everything but I couldn’t. I had no way to reach you. I never thought I’d ever see you again. I never thought I would meet our child.”

A single tear fell down Azriel’s face and Y/N hastily wiped it away.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, gently cupping his cheeks. “All that matters is that you are here and you are okay. We don’t need to think about that anymore because you are awake and here.”

“I love you,” Azriel whispered. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied. “Just promise me that you are not going on any missions for a while.”

“I won’t be,” Azriel said. “I will not be leaving this court at all until our child is born and probably long after. I don’t want to be put in this position again. I don’t want you to ever nearly lose me again. I want to see our child grow up. I want to be by your side for eternity. No mission or job could ever come before my family.”

Y/N gently pecked his lips. “I am so glad you are here, my love.”

“I will always fight to get back to you, Y/N,” Azriel said, nothing but love in his tone. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

Y/N didn’t respond verbally, instead she gently shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Azriel’s arms immediately latched around her, keeping her pressed against his body. Even when Y/N tried to pull away slightly to not hurt him, Azriel refused to let her. Y/N just relaxed into him.

“Madja will need to come and check on you at some point,” Y/N mumbled.

“Not right now,” Azriel said. “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Rhys and Cass will want to see you too,” Y/N said.

“They can wait,” Azriel said. “And all the others can wait. Just for tonight I want to spend my time with my family. Just you and our child.”

Y/N pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “Then let’s just lay here all day then. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be.”

“I cannot believe how lucky I am that I have you in my life, Y/N,” Azriel said, the stubble on his face scratching her bare shoulder from where her robe had fallen.

“I am the lucky one, Az,” Y/N said. “I am lucky enough to have someone who would fight so hard to come back to me.” Y/N leaned back from the hug and placed his hand on her stomach. “To us.”

“I love you,” Azriel said, wrapping his arms back around Y/N’s body. “I love you both.”

Y/N only hugged him tighter and that was the way the small family remained, completely wrapped up in their own little world.

#azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Get Her Back 4/4 (Word count 7.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The knife still juts from the table.

She touches it often, fondles the handle like it's her lover.

Days pass, and König escapes her stare with raised shoulders and poorly disguised hurt in his eyes. She feels his eyes on her every single time she's not looking.

He breaks into her room every night, but she never wakes up to his presence. The only thing that tells her the man's been there are the fresh flowers on her table next to the knife.

He brings her flowers every morning, just like he promised, and she keeps the blade there to remind him that he's still in her heart. It's like a silent conversation, and it stabs her stomach full of pain.

On the fourth day, he returns her panties. They're covered in dried cum, and at first, it makes her feel disgusted. Then her heart flutters, a warm feeling settles deep inside her stomach when she imagines him jerking himself off to her underwear amidst his knives, with despair and longing coating the air.

For anyone else, it might be a chilling thing to wake up to: to open eyes to the sight of a brutal tactical knife, freshly picked forget-me-nots and some cum-stained lace. But for her, it's a loving attempt to remind her who she belongs to. It's also a sign that the man is trying to let her go and finally obey her wishes to be left alone.

And she doesn't want to be left alone.

He promised she would never be alone.

On the fifth day, there's no flowers, there's nothing. She starts her day with a horrible, awful bawl. Then she puts on a black dress. It makes her look odd, like she's in mourning, but it also gives her… power, somehow. Even if it's another cute kind of cotton babydoll dress, it makes her look more austere.

“König, wait.”

She chases him down this time: runs to his retreating form that stops the instant she calls his name. He’s tense when she walks the last steps to him and hugs him from behind. The familiar scent of tea tree and gasoline and sweat and guns bring a visceral memory of madness to her mind. It’s an ambrosia of crude virility, and she's missed him, God, that she's missed him.

It's also safety. Because no matter what anyone says, he is the only one who knows her, sees her, sees right into her core, her very soul.

He slowly places a hand on hers, the arms that embrace his narrow, treelike middle.

"Engel…"

The voice comes out tight and strained. He caresses her hand with hesitation and swallows.

"I'm confused.. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come with me," she whispers in his back. He has no gear on, and she can feel his abs through the black shirt, the way his shoulder blades flare against her cheek with shallow breaths. "If you want…?"

"Ganz sicher."

She takes him by the hand and guides him to her room. People look at them with pity and dread, and she feels like they’re in high school where people were divided into groups of popular and unpopular.

She knows where she and König would’ve belonged. Where they belonged now…

And she just doesn't care anymore.

When the door to her room shuts behind him, she feels a little tug near her heart. She had nearly forgotten how big König looks inside her little room, the space she has tried to turn into a cozy home even though she doesn't view the base as her home like the soldiers do. It's just a place for her to reside in when she's working.

But he does not fit into a normal society like she does. The base must be the closest thing to a home for him. Not every elite soldier is a lunatic perhaps, but König certainly couldn't find any other job in the modern world that would cater to his needs without sending him behind bars.

But he was supposed to kill only in the field. Only somewhere far, far away.

Why did you do it?

Why…?!

That's what she meant to ask when they're behind closed doors, but something quite different comes out instead.

"Did you miss me…?"

She stands before him, holding her hands in front of her, looking probably quite silly clad in black.

"I've been in hell ever since I left, Engel."

Christ have mercy…

Normal men just didn't talk like that.

"Will you forgive me?" He looks her up and down, but the calm, proud posture, the way he holds his chin high behind that dark shroud tells her he's not used to begging. She has a feeling that this question is asked only because Soap suggested it would be a good idea to apologize for making her so upset.

"It's not me you should be–" She sighs. "Look… That man had a wife. König, I think he had a kid and everything."

His eyes are covered in a veil of disinterest only she can pierce. There's actually so much going on behind that odd, distanced stare. But what’s horrifying is that he clearly doesn’t agree with her on this matter.

"I kill people every week," he declares. "Just not in the break room."

His logic leaves her wordless for a moment. The officer was not an enemy, he was not part of some foreign military, his only crime was that he was in a hurry…

She has barely even opened her mouth to speak before he finally defends himself.

"How do you know his wife is not secretly happy with the news?"

The question is like a bucket of ice dipped in her head. She had prepared herself for almost anything but this. König only tilts his head and narrows his stare.

"Would you want to be wife to that kind of man?"

Her mouth opens on its own; her jaw would fall to the floor if it could do such a thing. His worldview unfolds before her in full, and it should disgust her: but all she feels is an odd thrill in her stomach from realizing this man is not only possessive; he's also fiercely traditional.

"He just spilled some coffee on me," she whispers in soft, tender horror. "He just happened to have a bad day."

"How many times a week did he have a bad day?"

The defense is solid, even if it's preposterous. The man was rude and disrespectful, yes. To everyone, every day, probably continued the abuse at home, too. But he didn't deserve to be killed for it. Still, König doesn't seem to find any fault in his way of thinking.

"I can tell when people are evil," he crosses his arms over his chest as a final note.

Evil…

Evil.

She's left blinking, then she finds her tongue again.

"You can't just… deal punishment like that," she huffs.

"Why not?"

Jesus Christ…

His arms are still over his chest, and he looks… so big, so powerful, like an omnipotent being.

Probably thinks he is.

"Will you go to jail?" She changes the subject because arguing with this kind of man seems futile. Downright hopeless.

"No," he says with perpetual calm. "Would you want to see me in jail?"

"...No."

He finally unravels his arms and takes a few steps toward her. That swaying lounge is intoxicating and seductive, even when he doesn't mean it as such. It's just the way he walks, but it makes her woozy.

"Engel. You are too… kind for this world."

More odd arguments are laid out before her, more confusion and love and pain. He raises a hand to touch her arm and make his point clear. The weight of him is heavy and adult, his military clothing is in blaring contrast to her tiny, childish dress.

"You don't understand it now, but perhaps someday you will."

The man looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with her. She's a child in his eyes, but something in this lunacy tells her she's dealing with a child, too: a boy who no one ever loved.

"My little angel. Always wearing pretty dresses," he says more softly now.

"I'm not an angel."

"Yes you are," he rules without effort. "And you look good in everything. But you shouldn't wear black."

"Why not…?"

"Because you belong with flowers."

Her heart aches, her eyes prick with burning tears. He's self-aware, that's for sure. He knows what he has done to her, what he is doing to her. And he wishes to spare her from him.

"I thought you liked black," she peeps, her mind and will and defense breaking.

He doesn't say anything, but his hand brushes down her cheek, then cups her chin softly. That same hand must be ironclad when it grips his enemies and brings them to his blade.

"I like this dress," she tries to quarrel, voice shaking.

"And I know a knife that would go perfectly with it."

His eyes are warm. There's even a passing sadness in them. She's relatively sure that he's not talking about butterfly knives any longer – she's almost certain that König hasn't gifted his weapons to any other human being on this earth.

“How about we take off that pretty little dress now, hmm?”

The time for the compulsory explanations is over in his mind, and it’s time for sex. He knows that his exile has ended, that whatever liminal space they walked in for a few days wasn’t enough to rid herself of him. There’s no turning back anymore, and he looks at her with amused hunger when she obeys his suggestion which is, in truth, a command.

Her fingers do not shake anymore as she undresses for him, but a shiver goes through her guts: that stare is a look from beyond. He’s a madman, and falling more in love with her every day, even if the only way he knows how to love is by stabbing people with his cock or his knife.

“Lie down,” he gives her more orders when she stands before him with nothing on.

It’s futile, completely futile to pretend that she doesn’t want this. It’s almost like an act, the way she slowly and demurely obeys his command. In reality, she wants nothing more than to be devoured by him.

He takes his clothes off while she waits for him on the bed like an injured bird. He rips, then throws his gloves off like they have done something naughty, all the while his gaze is fixed on her. She has missed the sight of that faint hair on his abs, missed that broad chest, missed how his muscles bunch even when he gets out of a shirt that weighs practically nothing in his hands.

The long, veined cock flies out from his pants with a demanding bounce that makes her swallow. They form an odd pair on the floor: her little dress and his huge woodland camos. His eyes are surrounded in black paint under the eternal mask, but otherwise, he's the palest man she has ever seen.

Her breasts rise and fall with aroused breaths as he settles himself beside her, naked and blazing. His cock is pure fire when it gets trapped between them, and he's already drooling hot precum on her thigh.

He's gentle, kind of. Slides a hand over her shivering stomach, palms one breast, then takes a nipple between his fingertips and gives her a pinch.

“Did you miss me too?”

The hood makes him look like a hangman, and he’s infuriatingly patient now. She expected him to rail her like a sex toy right after the door was closed.

"Yes."

He releases her, and the callous descends with a gentle, deliberate caress to her waist.

"Then you're the first who ever did."

She just might be the first woman he's gentle with, too, and she cannot help but think if it's because of what she said just before he killed that poor man. If the last piece of the puzzle locked in place when he realized how much she admired him. If her confession also made him stake his claim in the loudest possible way, announcing everyone that he's her protector.

It's not her fault that the man's dead, but she should be ashamed: she's wet already when the murderer's fingers delve further down to meet her folds. He disappears somewhere in her wetness, and her thighs rise and drift apart to give him full access.

And it's always like this: she spreads legs for him with a helpless, longing stare, he takes in what belongs to him with dark, pleased hunger.

He finds her clit in no time, drags his thumb over it, and she gasps. Her breaths come quick now, her nipples are shot to the sky and her back is already arching when he delves down and slides one finger inside. It's long and lean, and her cunt grips him like they have been apart for four weeks instead of four days.

He sighs under the mask, just from her greedy response. She wants to touch him too, but doesn't dare to move when he's looking at her like that. He starts to finger her gently, first with one, then two digits while attending to the tight nub on top. And he's good with a knife, quick with his hands, so what did she expect?

But she’s also sad and mad. Because he definitely knows what he’s doing. And it makes her think…

"Have you had a lot of women..?"

Her question is a mouse's whisper. His fingers halt inside her; they spread her with delicious torture.

"A few," he says. "Back in Austria."

He buries his face in her neck and nuzzles his way to her ear. The bag of darkness is soft and hot, but nothing compared to his heated whisper.

"But they were nothing like you."

He punctuates the declaration by curling the fingers inside her. She bites her lip to stifle a filthy, needy moan. He even grinds his hips against her: that cock is like a heated spear against her soft thigh, and more cum oozes out to trickle down her leg.

"How many men have had you, Engel?"

He doesn't ask: how many men has she had. She may not be his plaything, but she is his possession. In his mind, she belongs to him and only him, no matter who has come before. But the murderous passion with which he waits for her answer makes her flustered, and she bolts her mouth tight in an indication that she will not disclose this information.

"Gut. Don't tell. I would kill them all."

Oh.

Oh…

"Would you like that…?"

"No," she whimpers.

"Yes you would."

“I don’t–I don't want you to–”

“Shh.”

He’s working those fingers smooth and quick, and she’s already leaking on his hand, probably on the bed, too… The room is filled with sighs and whimpers and sobs as he fucks her with slick, wet sounds. She's close the edge in mere minutes, but he won’t let her finish.

Instead, he pulls out just when she's about to tighten around him.

"Why-why did you stop?"

"Angel... Take me in your mouth," he rasps, breathless too despite trying to disguise it. She briefly wonders if this is some sort of a punishment. That perhaps she’s ordered to give him a blowjob just when she’s about to come – after all, she has dared to keep him waiting for days.

But that’s not the case, it seems, as she moves with heavy limbs to fulfill his wish.

"Nein… Other way around. I want to taste you."

The perverse suggestion in the break room turns into a reality as she realizes what he wants to do. Her heart is pounding when she crawls on top of him to meet that leaking cock. How exactly is that thing even going to fit inside her mouth?

A sudden shyness takes her as her thighs are forced into a wide-legged spread from straddling the broadest man on earth. She's exposed to the cold air only for a second before his breath hits her. The shortest shadow of a stubble on that usually clean-shaven chin meets her soaked cunt with hunger.

“Ah… Take it– in your mouth,” he moans orders to her folds, and her cunt clenches immediately, just from hearing that accent and that voice.

She moves to give him a shy lick, sweeps a tongue over that tip to clean him from all that precum. He goes tense under her and breathes heavily when she wraps her hand around him, wraps her mouth around the weeping slit.

He tastes of salt and sin, and the minute she tries to take more of him in, he groans with a dry throat. It's a hot, broken breath that travels straight inside her. It’s too much – the position is far too stimulating, it’s over the top wicked.

And then he starts to lick her. It messes up the blowjob that has barely even started. She knows his hood must be almost completely off, otherwise he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Take a bit more, Engel," he urges between the long slathers that already sound lewd. There's simply no way to take it fully in, he’s far too long for that. The last thing she wants to do is gag on him. But she does a good enough job, tries to concentrate on breathing through her nose as she goes as deep as she can.

"That's…more like it…"

It’s a relieved notion somewhere behind her before he continues with the agonizingly slow licks. Fat and flat-tongued, the work of a famished man. For someone who's so clumsy with social interaction, he’s infuriatingly good at giving pleasure to women. The tip of his tongue grazes her clit, and causes a muffled moan – her mouth is full of him but she just cannot help herself.

And arms of steel close around her middle the minute she whimpers on his cock. They pull her closer to his face – he wants to hear her make noise, then, and her will to compete arises. She wants to make him moan too. She ups the pace, flattens her tongue on him every time she retreats…

"Where did you learn to–nnh…"

She nearly laughs at his surprise, at their silly little competition. He's shocked, probably jealous too, of her past and the imagined cavalcade of men who may or may not have been inside her mouth before him. She swirls a tongue around the tip every now and then, wraps her lips tight around him, and goes even deeper.

"Verdammte Scheiße.. I'm not going to last long…"

Strong thighs around her power up, and he has stopped licking her altogether: he's just panting in her pussy and holding on to her hips while waiting for the upcoming wave.

"You know what to do, ja?" He pants that question like she doesn't know he's about to shoot a load on her tongue soon.

"Don't make a mess," he shares advice with a sly tone to his voice. "Unless you want to clean after…"

He gives a short laugh as if the joke is funny. As if that's a clever thing to say to a cleaning lady. It makes her grip him harder, and he's close, so close: he's not even moving anymore, everything's just completely rigid under her body and inside her mouth.

"I'm fucking–cumming…"

He spills with a long groan, moans against her cunt, cries inside her with pain. The seed is hot and heavy, it shoots right down her throat even in this position. She does the best she can to not make that mess, but it's hard work when a giant cock pulses in her mouth.

"You're perfect, angel," he sighs behind her, tries to feed more of himself inside her mouth by rolling his hips.

The praise makes her pump and suck him even more, get every last drop out, and a tremble goes through her lover. She has to take support from the bed until the earthquakes recede. His cock is a clean mess after, and she's a mess too: overworked, and shy, and victorious.

They're both left panting: she tries to catch some breath there between his thighs after everything, but she's not allowed to rest and recover. The grip around her middle pulls her back, and a breathless man trying to lick her like it's the end of the world is not only far too much, it's unbearable. She's already overly sensitive and needy from the four days of barren grief.

"It's too much…" She tries to tell him, but he won't listen. If anything, it only spurs him on.

"König, I can't," she wails softly while resting her head on his thigh.

"Yes you can."

A feverish tongue dips inside her as deep as it goes. It forces her legs apart, she spreads herself all over his face completely unwillingly. There's no mercy for her as he flicks a tongue over her clit, plunges a tongue inside her as deep as it goes, returns to the nub again – does it again and again and again like it's some secret code meant to break her.

"You like that, huh?" His rough voice is muffled by her cunt, he sounds both parched and wet.

"Hm? Talk to me," he demands an answer although it should be obvious that she's losing her mind from his treatment.

"Yes," she mewls while being spread so crudely wide for him. "I… I love it…"

"Hah. You sound like a little cat," he laughs, pleased, then gets to it again. She's so close now that she can feel the growing waves. Her thighs are not just shaking, they're trembling.

"So pretty and so wet," he comments between the licking and dipping, voice covered with smoke from all the lust. And he's hard again, too: right next to her face, and she could cry actual tears – what if he plans on fucking her too after this? It's too much, she can't even take this, she can't…

But she does.

Her back starts to arch just before the orgasm. She's not weeping yet, but every noise she makes sounds like she's crying her heart out.

"Slow down, slow–down, please…"

She's a one-woman choir of tight pleas. She tries to muffle them by burying her face somewhere in his thighs and musk. The tongue dips in and out like he's a machine and not a man, and the first wave hits unexpectedly, like a searing, white-hot blade.

"A–ah!"

The climax swallows her, she starts grinding against that face without meaning to. He only laughs and buries his nose and tongue deeper into her slickness. The arms around her hold her like iron bars, his breaths hit her along with his tongue like she's strapped to a torture device.

Her cunt is sloppy, and throbbing, and he is a torturer, licks her even when she's lying on top of him in ruin: a devastated, trembling heap of a woman who's lost everything.

"Stop–König, you need to stop…"

Her weak whispers do nothing. His tongue sweeps her from front to back until she's crying on top of him. Frail fingers try to claw his thighs but grasp nothingness.

When he finally relents, he does it with another laugh. Then he gives her a last lick: a total bully, snorts a chuckle when a tremble goes through her entire body from just that single, fat sweep.

"Mmm. That was good. Right?"

"M–mh…"

There are tears in her eyes, but not one comes out. Her pussy throbs and winks with the aftershocks, and his hand moves up and down her back like she's that little cat.

"You're mean," she sobs. Complains.

"Heh… you didn't like it?"

"I did," she sniffs, and his hand moves to caress her thigh.

"I know you did. I know you. Everything about you."

He sounds merciful at last, pats her leg softly.

"Come here. I'll take care of you."

When she turns and crawls back to him, his mask is fully in place. He receives her with open arms and speaks more softly than ever.

"I have to take care of you after. Isn't that so?"

"Yes…"

She holds onto him, because he's the only thing that's solid in her world at this point. His aftercare is the most tender thing she has ever known: her hair is being caressed gently, the tension in her neck and back is soothed with long, loving strokes. He buries his mask in her hair and inhales her after-sex scent like it's a whole offering of incense.

"Angel. You feel like… like it's my birthday."

His statement brings another round of tears to her eyes. Instinct tells her that birthdays might've been the only happy days of the year for this man.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He sounds worried when she's so quiet and timid again. Her heart settles slowly into a warm pool of love, she presses herself against him with fervor, and he squeezes her in turn like she's the most perfect birthday present ever.

"No."

I really needed that.

I need you…

"I will never let you go again," he promises. "Never. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I don't– I don't want you to go."

"Little one. I'm so glad I found you."

He takes her palm and uses it to brush away the hood from his lips. The violent edge is always taken away after sex, and the devouring is gentle, the passion is blunt. His kiss is soft; sweet.

"König…" She's raw and bare in his arms, her adoration reflects back to her from his blues. "Why did you pick me?"

"You're the one who picked me, Engel. I just answered your call."

He takes in the effect this truth has on her, then takes her breath away with another kiss. A small giggle erupts in the lazy afternoon as he threatens to crush her with a bear hug. Her hand steals its way further under the mask: she meets smooth skin and a collection of even smoother bumps.

"Why can't I see your face..?"

"It's not a pretty sight," he sighs. "Father liked to cut me when I was little."

The laziness leaves her body that very instant. The man is detached, distant: as if he's sharing something trivial, the city he grew up in or his favorite subject in school.

She doesn't know whether to feel pity or terror, but what he says next sends even more ice down her spine.

"Now I cut those who are evil."

Everything starts to make perfect sense.

Why he was bullied at school, why people fear him. Why disrespectful, cruel men deserve to be knifed and why women and wives are angels. Why he wears a mask.

It's not sound reasoning, but it is a strategy, perhaps. Survival… A defense mechanism.

And offense is the best defense…

She had been right: this man is incurable, only in ways she could never have guessed.

Afterwards, he shows her his knives.

His room is full of them: combat knives, throwing knives, bowie knives, daggers, bayonets, balisongs, two machetes, a kukri, knives she doesn't even have a name for… There's swords and sticks and a riot shield. There's only one bed, nothing more, not even a nightstand.

And the room is also full of guns.

Assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, handguns; there's scopes, tripods, gloves, gas masks, a ghillie suit, pouches, plate carrier vests, magazines, grenades, even a launcher.

The room is filled with violence.

And she didn't know what she expected.

Some "Hot Gun Babes" wall calendar and a few pocket knives? That he would play by the rules and keep weapons and gear where they were stored instead of in his fucking room?

He gives her his third gift that pairs well with her black dress, or any dress, for that matter. Another knife, but not the kind he kills people with, nor the flimsy kind used for entertainment purposes.

She receives an automatic switchblade, simple but pretty. The double-edged blade looks almost feminine, the way it curves into a sharp, dainty tip. The handle is made of sturdy, polished wood; it's incredibly beautiful and so dark it's nearly black. The knife is only a threat when it's flicked open: all in all a piece that isn’t what it seems.

"Hier. Good little blade. Would take it wherever I go."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Engel."

She kisses him after his gift. She kisses the white scar on his jaw, lifts the mask a bit more, and he doesn't stop her. He doesn't stop her, not even when she finds more keloid cuts and kisses them too.

And he's… simply a man.

There's a human under all that darkness.

It's not a pretty sight, perhaps, but for those scars, she couldn't love him more.

"You're not afraid of me," he sounds surprised when she takes in the violence done to his face with tenderness in her gaze.

"No."

He's speechless. The barricade covering his eyes is permanently broken, and she can see him, all of him.

She falls to her knees and opens his pants, gives the man another round of love. He looks at her with pain and pleasure; a pale, adoring god. Strokes her hair gently while she gets drunk on him like a succubus, wants him to spill that white on her face and all over her pretty black dress.

"Cum on my face, König."

She looks at him with angel eyes while saliva and drool make a rope from her mouth to his throbbing cock. But there is nothing left of the celestial, nothing more than a sweet, fallen angel, and a safe space just for her and him.

"Please…?"

Ruin me.

He hesitates a few seconds, then grabs his cock in an iron fist like it's heavy artillery.

"Whatever my angel wants, she shall have."

. . . . . .

He brings her flowers every morning and fucks her every night.

Sometimes he catches her when she's outside in the sun, reading a book or watching the clouds. He carries her off to the woods and takes her against a tree like they're the first man and woman on the earth after tasting the forbidden apple. They share a few hushed laughs and more than a few desperate kisses under the hood, then he brings her back to earth, straightens her dress like a gentleman before leaving to have a date with death.

He takes her out to eat sometimes, takes her to the shooting range. Calls her his little Wildkatze when she takes a liking to one of his shotguns. He takes her hand when they stroll through the grass and sings an old love song from his homeland. He has a beautiful voice, especially when he forgets he's in company. Or perhaps she's just special like that…

They share a secret language in the base. Whenever he sees her, he draws his knife and throws it in the air ("I miss you") or twirls it around ("The things I will do to you tonight…"). Sometimes, he just places a hand on the handle of the cruel blade. That stands for 'You're mine'.

It's the closest thing to I love you before either of them have spoken the actual words. Or then it's the closest thing to I love you he's capable of.

She gives him a small smile in return, puts a hand in her pocket and fondles the gift she carries everywhere she goes. He knows it's a nod to his secret messages. It stands for 'You're my everything'.

She keeps the switchblade with her even when she's wearing a dress after work. Red this time, the color of passion.

She wants to surprise him: König always comes to her before nightfall, but this time, she wants to go and visit him. She wants him to take her in the middle of black steel and acrid gunpowder while she's dressed in blood.

"Be a darling and fix me a cup of coffee, will you?"

She's stopped by Phillip Graves of all people. Another man who has never paid her any attention. Apparently, red cloth is the same thing for evil men as it is for the enraged animals in bullfighting shows.

She does stop, but she doesn't obey his wishes. She just stares him down like he's filth: another thing she thought she could never do.

I'm not your coffee girl.

"C'mon honey. I've had a bad day." The man only seems to feed off from her silent scorn: like it's some dark game they're playing now. "You could make it so much better."

For fuck's sake…

Here is a man who disrespects everything about her: her position as a cleaner, her value as a woman, her rank as a shy being who is too kind for this world. She's simply a doll who doesn't know how to kill, who doesn't know how to say no. This man however, won't take no for an answer.

"I'm not here to serve coffee," she says with pure ice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I'm off duty, too."

"Thought we could have a little chat, you and I."

"Why?"

"You seem like an interesting woman."

He seems pleased with the fact that for some reason, she's still here, that he has her attention. Thinks he's winning her over with some yucky flirting.

"And wearing a red dress like that…" He tsks, as if it's a crime for a woman to wear red. "Red can drive a man crazy, darling."

She understands why she has been invisible to everyone except König up until this point.

Because deep down, she knows if she would carry herself in full, show herself to the world as the woman she truly is, she would instantly attract love, and power, and hunger, and lust.

"I'm going to go now, sir."

"Tell you what. You serve me that coffee and I'll let you go."

She catches sadism in that stare. And to think she had always found Graves to be somewhat… arrogant, perhaps, but not cruel. The man obviously has a Napoleon complex, but he was not supposed to be sadistic.

How wrong she has been.

She knows she could just get out of the situation by filling that mug the bastard can't fill himself because of some stupid need to have a powerplay moment with an innocent little girl who happens to wear red.

But she doesn't want to. König would have ripped this guy's head off by now.

"I'm off duty," she repeats.

Fuck these men who are always looking for a plaything.

Graves rises from the chair. She's both cold and sweaty by the time he has taken a step, two, three.

But men are a bit stupid sometimes.

They think dresses don't have pockets.

When he takes the fourth and last step, with joy-tinged cruelty in his eyes, she flicks the knife out and open, and simply stabs him in the supposed direction of the organ called heart.

It feels thrilling, pure power: to sink that knife there and catch a man – a soldier of all people – unawares.

So this is what it feels like…

The hurt in his stare doesn't necessarily come from pain, but from the realization that he has made a huge miscalculation.

He looks down at the small knife that will be the end of him, then at her, the woman he thought was just a simple, shy cleaner he could bully into submission.

"You fucking–bitch," he gasps. Weakly.

By the time she pulls the knife out and stabs him again, she's somewhere far away. It hits him in the stomach, and he still doesn't do anything about it, and that's the moment she finds pity, and mercy, and horror.

She turns and stumbles, then runs from the room, unsure if the thump on the floor behind her is real or imagined.

"You fucking whore…!"

The shout is real enough though, and she runs, runs, with a sharp little knife in her hand for what seems like an eternity. That flight is a prolonged medieval torture moment that ends in front of König's door.

Her titan is as calm as ever when he opens the door, and tilts his head when he sees she's breathing fast.

"I think I killed Phillip Graves," she informs with eyes wide.

He blinks, then immediately looks at her hand, the knife, the blood. She goes to him, lifts a hand to his shirt in a desperate attempt to find support. There's not even that much blood. She thought killing would be much messier.

König said it would be messy.

"I… He…"

Her hands won't even shake. All her senses are blown wide and sharp, she sees everything, hears everything, but her hands won't shake.

Is she a psychopath?

"I killed Phillip Graves," she repeats, looks at his chest, clutches at the knife, clutches at his shirt.

The door behind her closes, and König takes hold of her shoulders with warm, warm hands.

"Well done, Engel," he says with such joy, such unbound pride that it snaps her back into reality.

Her jaw starts to tremble, her teeth clatter, she raises her eyes to him…

"He… He wanted coffee, and to talk, and he liked my dress, and–"

"Did he touch you?"

He asks it like it's far more important than what she has just done. She has to shuffle through her memory, but she finds no recalling of Graves laying a single finger on her.

"No."

He was about to. Right?

He was. He threatened me–

"Don't shed tears for him," König says as he looks down at her with mesmerized awe and infatuation. "I can promise you he doesn't deserve them."

Then he hugs her, squeezes her and just holds her, and she's still holding on to the murder weapon.

What will everyone say? What will my friends say?

"My little angel is good with a knife," the titan laughs proudly somewhere high above her.

People have killed each other since the dawn of time.

These things happen.

I'm not the first murderer on this planet.

"My poor little… He was a bad man, Engel. I promise you that."

It's not a big deal. He was a killer too.

He could've died in the field…

"I'm going to jail," she whispers on his shirt. She wants to let go of the knife, but fears it might hurt him or her when it falls.

And she remembers she's not dealing with normal people.

"They will kill me for this," she says with distant realization.

"No they won't," he strokes her hair like she's the best pet he has ever had. "I will take the blame. It was my knife, ja?"

She pushes herself away to look at him, then nods slowly. Her jaw just won't stop trembling.

"Good girl," he pulls her against him again, so fondly that it forces out a whimper.

"Mh."

"Come here," he coos while already holding her so impossibly close. He's surprisingly good at this: at comforting her. Or then it simply feels uncommonly good to have someone sturdy to hang on to while her life and identity are falling apart.

"I'm not sure if he's dead," she whispers when the embrace lingers on. König breaks the hug immediately.

"You didn't confirm the kill?"

She must look like a shy cleaner again, because his resolve is stone cold and solid.

"Engel, I will go and finish it. Where is he?"

She tells, because he would find out anyway. He would start a manhunt and cause even more ruckus.

But when his hand reaches the doorknob, when he's already about to go and finish her crime on top of taking the full blame for it, he turns.

"Do I have your permission?"

Her jaw slowly stops trembling, and a soft sweetness spreads through her heart. The elite soldier, the mass murderer, asks for her permission.

She is more than just special…

"Yes," she whispers, and he gives her a curt nod before storming out the door.

And he's not living in the 21st century.

Instead, he walks in the world of gladiators, rages in a blood-drunk arena, lives in a time where killing was the norm. He solves problems with physical force: it's just that simple. There is no complex society, there are no rules other than the rules of the heart and the loins.

Anyone who disrespects her will get the blade, anyone who might take her away from him will make him do whatever is in his power to prevent it.

And he has the ultimate power: the power of violence.

He comes back surprisingly clean: only a tiny speckle of blood on his camos and some vivid-colored grime on his hands.

"Done."

She nods with solemn silence. She's done, too. Done with everything, because everything's gone. No matter how high the sun is, she will walk in darkness from now on.

"I believe you Engel. He swore he didn't touch you."

And God.

She might be special, but a dying enemy's, a man's word is more worth to him than hers. As if she would try to protect Graves from his wrath by lying.

And Graves wasn't even dead…

But he is now. Probably tortured too to get the truth out about not soiling her with his paws.

"Did anyone see you..?"

"No. But they will know it was me."

It's another gift to her. Another murder. And her purity, intact, in exchange for a compliment, a testimony of his character during a lazy coffee break. For a few kisses on his scars of abuse. For letting him fuck her like a beast.

Her gifts are burning tears, soft flesh and tight little cries…

His gifts are cold, black steel, hot, white cum and a stream of crimson blood.

"Thank you…"

"I would do anything for you." He bows his head, a little nod to inform her that he is hers to command. "Anything you want, just ask."

She's at home in hell, filled with guns and knives and a fallen god. She knows he will take her again tonight, just like he has done every night in the past weeks. In every position imaginable, grunting, howling, panting, laughing how sweet she is, asking if she likes what he is doing to her. She has always whispered yes through tears of hot joy.

Sometimes, they come together and their gazes lock, and it feels like drifting into a starless space with him. He strokes her hair and coats her with whispers of love before they fall asleep. They always curl up together in the cover of womblike darkness, with soft little smiles on their faces, safe from all evil.

"Can you keep me safe…?"

It's a sad little question, but she doesn't feel weak. She knows he is lost in her too: especially when she's wearing a dress the color of blood, especially when she looks at him like he's her God.

"Please keep me safe."

He comes to her carefully, answers her summons. She's pulled into a familiar embrace, and she doesn't even think about Graves anymore: she thinks about whether König will take her on the bed that smells of acid sweat or on the wall next to the gun rack.

"Always, Engel. I promise."

She holds the most powerful weapon in her tiny little hand. A dark, fallen titan who has risen from the depths of the earth to pledge himself to her, body and soul, while her innocent little dresses flutter in the wind and make everyone believe she's a victim. But she doesn't feel sorry.

Because it's just like he said.

They belong together, she and him.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine #just friends #just friends fic

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jade-jini · 5 months

Note

HI been thinking abt g!p loser yunjin getting emotional during sex 😭 can i request a somno one where she comes home drunk late at night, looking for reader only to see her asleep on their bed! yunny getting hard at the sight and emotional as she remembers their argument, she couldn’t help herself but touch her gf, soft “sorry’s” and “don’t leave me” leaving her mouth as she fucks reader 😖

TW: somno, angst, happy ending ig. Dubcon. Dacryphilia. Yunjin is insecure.

Can I give you g!p loser somno Yunjin? Yes. Is it from the same storyline as the previous posts? Hell no. That baby would never. That one is fluffy fluffy this is a completely different one ok? Ok 🤨. After clarifying that…😈

“Hey, a*hic*nother one, please…” Yunjin said, raising her empty glass, her vision not good enough to catch where the bartender actually was. The guy sighed as he dried a washed glass with a towel.

“Listen kid, we’re already closed. Why don’t you go home already?”

“Home?” Yunjin asked unconsciously, the memories of that day hitting once again.

——————————Flashback—————————

You guys were supposed to get home together after a long day. Yunjin was gonna pick you up after your last class of the day, the orange sky and sunlight hitting against her own hair as she waited for you. She had a nice flower in hand, excited to give it to you. Softly placing it near her nose to smell it one more time, she made herself blushed thinking about your smile once she saw you. However, you were not alone. Her smile dropped right away as she left the flower fall somewhere.

There you were, standing with a friend she very well recognized. It was this one girl from the women soccer team of the university. Yunjin knew her name, everybody knew her name. But she never liked using it, making it clear she did not like this person at all.

“She seems to like you a lot…” she murmured after the first time she saw you talking to Yeji.

“I like her too, she’s a good friend, and she’s friends with Yeojin already so it’s cool” you explained, apparently not getting the message right away.

“Hmmmm, not what I meant but whatever..” she said as her pout got bigger, letting go of your hand and crossing her arms in front of her chest. That’s when you finally noticed.

“Huh Yunjin, are you jealous?” You asked, trying to stop a giggle.

“Maybe? I mean she’s athletic and popular, and you’re so pretty, baby. Who wouldn’t want you? I wouldn’t be surprised if one day you decide you want to give her or somebody else a chance…”

“Omg shut up, that could never happen. I love you. You, Yunjin.” You told her, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. You didn’t have eyes for nobody else but Yunjin, so you didn’t wanna hear none of that nonsense.

“Yeah but still…” she murmured, and you simply sighed and continued walking hand in hand, trying to be extra sweet and clingy to your girl to distract her from those thoughts.

You thought it was cute the first couple times, but then her attitude started becoming more serious every time. It wasn’t your cute girlfriend being a little jealous and protective. It was like a completely different person taking over your sweet girl. You guys have already had more arguments about this situation. They were never too bad.

Until today.

“Oh, hi baby!” You greeted your girlfriend once she met you guys, smiling at her like you did every time, with love and excitement like it was the first time you saw her.

“Hi, Yunjinie.” Yeji tried, as always, to be on the good side of the taller girl. Yunjin just looked at her, nodding at her and humming. She looked back at you.

“Ready to go? Maybe we can go get something to eat at your favorite restaurant before getting home.” She asked while smiling at you only, not wanting to acknowledge the other girl’s presence more than necessary.

“Oh nice! Wanna join us before going home, Yeji?” You asked your friend, knowing she lived very close to your building. Yunjin’s smile left again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh! Actually-”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be today?” Yunjin murmured, a bored tone that she didn’t try to hide. In her mind, this was the least rude she could be towards Yeji.

“Huh Yunjin…” you warned her, a challenging tone growing in your throat and your eyes telling you weren’t gonna tolerate that.

“It’s ok, y/n.” Yeji said with an awkward laugh, trying to avoid yet another conflict. Unfortunately, she has been present before when your girlfriend showed clearly discomfort with her presence near you. “I can’t go anyways, Lia’s class must be almost done, and we have a date today so…” she commented, a slight blush appearing on the girl’s face. “Anyways, see you later.” The older girl said with a smile, waving her hand as she walked away quickly to go pick up her own girlfriend. You smiled and waved back at her, and once you turned back at Yunjin, her face was still showing she was upset. You shook your head, starting to walk. She followed you behind.

“What, you’re gonna leave me here now?” She asked as you didn’t give her a chance to walk beside you. You rolled your eyes.

“What the fuck, Yunjin?” You asked her as you slowed down a bit so she could catch up. “I’m tired of you being rude to every friend I have. First it was Chaeyoung and Yeojin and now-”

“Yeojin wouldn’t stop touching you! Am I supposed to be ok with that?!” She interrupted you, her voice getting a little louder and shaky.

“And now!” You interrupted her back, making her go quiet. “She barely looks me in the eye when you’re present ‘cause she knows you get easily jealous.” Yunjin scratched the back of her neck as she opened the car’s door for you. Once she got in the driver’s seat, she spoke again. Her voice changing to a sadder one.

“I’m just scared of losing you, y/n. You know that…” she said, as she started driving. You looked at her, examining her face. You could tell she was in distress about this. However, being insecure didn’t give her the right to treat your friends bad. You stayed quiet for a little while as she drove. Once you were walking to your apartment, you spoke again.

“I’ve told you Yeji has a girlfriend, yet you’re still treating her like this.” You heard her huff.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Excuse me?” You looked at her with a frown, clearly offended.

“If she had a girlfriend she wouldn’t be stuck to your side all the fucking time.” Yunjin said, her voice getting deeper than normal. She was very upset, but so were you.

“Because she’s my friend, Yunjin! Friends spend time together! Why can’t you understand the concept of that?” You told her in the same tone, seriously tired of the constant fighting about such an insignificant thing as you hanging out with your friends.

“I don’t spend all the time stuck to my friends.” she remarked once you opened the door.

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t be making these scenes because I actually trust you. Do you even trust me?”

“It has nothing to do with that-”

“Do you even trust me, Huh Yunjin?!” You asked her again in a louder tone. You were not gonna let her evade this question. Yunjin didn’t like your tone nor the accusations. So instead of processing what she actually felt, she acted impulsively.

“No! I don’t trust you nor your fucking flirty friends! I’m tired of all this!” She yelled, her breathing becoming irregular.

You went quiet, feeling your heart hurt. The girl you loved didn’t trust you. You’ve done everything in your power to show her she’s your one and only. That nobody else comes even close to her in your heart. Yet her insecurities were hurting you both.

“Then go.” You said after you swallowed the lump in your throat, your eyes already getting watery.

“What…” she whispered, starting to panic as she felt her heart sink.

“Trust is the most important thing in a relationship, with honesty. If we don’t have that, we don’t have nothing.”

“Oh my god I am so sorry, y/n… I didn’t mean to say any of that.” She tried apologizing, the weight of her words hitting her. Hard. She fucked up.

“If you don’t even trust me, then why haven’t you left?” You asked her, feeling that even speaking was hard at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll work on it. Please give me another chance, baby. Please.” Your girlfriend said, trying to hold your hands but you put them close to you avoiding this, such action breaking her heart a little more ‘cause you’ve never rejected her touch before.

“I’ve been patient and understanding but your jealousy just keeps getting worse. I need some time right now…”

“No! Please don’t.. please baby, don’t say that…” tears were threatening to come out already, her hands trembling at the idea of losing you.

“At least for tonight. I need to think about us, please go Yunjin.” You almost begged, voice getting softer due to the sadness taking over the anger now.

“y/n, please…”

“Just leave, Yunjin. I need some space today, please.” You said, not even looking at her. You couldn’t, because if you did you would ask her to stay and you actually needed some alone time to calm down. You heard her hesitate, but nevertheless her steps resonated in the now empty room.

————————End of flashback————————

“My home doesn’t want me at home…” Yunjin said as she began sobbing again. The bartender, weirded out, tried comforting her after calling a taxi for the young woman.

“Listen dude, I don’t know who hurt you, but you gotta go home. There’s a taxi outside ok? Just tell them where to go and I don’t know, get some makeup sex or something.”

“Makeup sex? Hmm..” the idea of it already causing an effect on her intoxicated mind. She quietly went home, with only the image of you in her thoughts, feeling her friend reacting to it.

“y/n? Baby are you h*hic*ome?” Yunjin asked once she stepped foot on the living room of your apartment, clumsily looking for you. “I-I’m sorry baby… please I l*hic*love you. Let me show you I love you.”

When she didn’t get a response, she made her way to your shared room. Her messy hair in front of her eyes making it a little extra complicated for her to see where she was going, but she wasn’t that messed up yet. Once she got to the bedroom, she found you deep in your sleep, looking beautiful as ever. She always thought you looked cute when sleeping, but tonight when she noticed how you were using nothing but her big shirt, the blanket barely covering your naked legs, cute wasn’t the word she’d use to describe you.

“God you’re so sexy, so perfect… I could never lose you…” she said as she got closer to the bed, falling sat next to you. The new weight made you move a bit, but it didn’t wake you up. “Please w-wake up, darling. I need you…” she whispered as she fixed her member, that was already getting hard by the view in front of her. Her other hand traveled to your thigh, caressing the skin as she slowly made her way to your ass. With the shirt going up a bit, she could see that you really were using nothing but her shirt.

“You knew I was c*hic*oming, Hmm?” She hummed, getting rid of her jacket and unbuttoning her pants to get her hand inside them, touching herself on top of her boxers. Soft groans escaping Yunjin’s lips as she felt her member getting harder and harder. She couldn’t help but put your shirt a little higher, leaving kisses on your stomach. Her lips slowly going up until she was kissing your chest, going from one nipple to the other. She was straight up moaning against your chest as she slowly sucked on them. With her dick already out of her pants, she needed to have you. She needed to prove to you she loved you always. As she made her way between your legs, she slowly started stroking her cock, licking her own lips before starting to eat you out. Yunjin could feel you softly moving under her, but you were a heavy sleeper. “So good.. tastes so good, baby.” She said as she made out with your pussy in such a messy but sensual way. The little whimpers coming from her as she stimulated both of you, and the little groans you’d let out in your sleep, were the only sounds Yunjin’s ears could catch. “P-please don’t leave.. if you do.. You’d break my heart..” the taller girl said, kissing your thighs, the idea of you actually leaving being an option got her sad again. As her eyes got watery, she fixed herself better between your legs, her member against your now very wet cunt, making sure to get herself wet too so she doesn’t hurt you. More soft sounds were coming from you, similar to the ones you do when awake. Yunjin’s clouded mind was thinking that maybe, if your body was reacting to her like this even when asleep, then you didn’t really want to leave. “Oh fuck…” she moaned as she slowly entered you. “Please don’t leave, I’m gonna miss this pussy too much…”

She started thrusting inside you slowly, sighing as your tight pussy grabbed around her so good every single time. She loved how well your bodies understood each other, and the thought of it being like this even when you’re not awake got her dick twisting inside you. This didn’t stop her from being sad though, knowing that after your argument that day, you probably wouldn’t have accepted this so easily.

“Please…” Yunjin whispered, her voice breaking in between pleads, tears threatening to fall “please d-don’t leave me.. I can be better than them.. p-promise..” she sobbed, the warmth of your body bringing both comfort and sadness, scared the next morning you’d be gone.

“What.. what the.. fuck? Hmmm.. Jen?” You murmured as her rougher actions slowly started to wake you up “w-what are you-”

“Please l-let me do it, if you’re gonna leave..” she said in between sobs “let me have you one last t*hic*ime..”

“W-who said I- fuck~ was gonna leave, baby?” You asked her, confused in between moans. Your hands automatically hugged her shoulders as you felt her cock reaching those spots inside you only Yunjin could ever get to know.

“I r-ruined it.. but please don’t go. I’m s-sorry, y/n. I love you…” she said, her moves now a little softer and slower. However you weren’t angry at her, how could you when she felt so good deep inside you, and her tears making her look so cute and pathetic, turning you on so much for some reason. You didn’t care to understand it though, your mind also getting clouded by desire for her.

“So cute when you cry. Do you feel sorry, baby?” You asked her, grabbing her face. She nodded eagerly, tears running down her face. “Why.. why are you sorry, tell me.”

“Hmmgh y/n.. I’m sorry for b-being mean, and jealous…” she dragged her words, but you were able to make out what she was saying. “S-sorry for not asking for permission first…” her sobs became more intense, but so did her thrusts inside you and you weren’t sure if her tears were more sadness or pleasure, probably a mix of both. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry y/n.. Hmm please…”

“Shhh, keep going baby, don’t you dare stop.” You threatened her, her teary eyes making your pussy clench around her cock, making your girlfriend moan loudly “such a fucking good cock, feels so good…”

“Hmmm fuck… you feel so good too, wanna be inside you forever…” she said as she pounded your pussy so good. Even when drunk, she knew what your face was saying, knowing she was hitting you in a spot you really like, getting you closer. “Like this, baby? D-does my cock feel good here?”

“So good… don’t you fucking stop.. Hmm fuck, baby!” You came intensely as her name kept coming from your mouth again and again, music for her ears. The sensation also making her moan, feeling herself too close.

“y/n, I’m gonna come…” she warned you, but you weren’t done with her punishment. You turned you guys around, holding her wrists against the mattress and riding her “oh god…” she moaned as she bit her lip. When you felt her dick inside you twisting, meaning her orgasm was just seconds away, you quickly got off her, ruining her orgasm as she finished untouched “Ahh! F-fuck.. nooo.. fuck!” She whimpered and cried as her cum ended on her thighs and some on her abs. “Why… that hurt, y/n..” she complained, hissing a bit when a cold wet towel made contact with her skin to clean her.

“That’s what you get for being a bad girl.” You told her, receiving a groan for her. When you turned around to see her, her eyes were still full of tears, a pout on her face. You simply laughed before holding her closer to you. “Don’t worry baby, tomorrow when you’re sober I’ll make sure to take care of you good.”

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megalony · 2 months

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This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. I loved this request and love the trope or Eddie or Buck with a lot of kids. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie and (Y/n) are enjoying a day off with their kids, until their youngest starts to have an allergic reaction.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) danced her eyes around the garden and a smile pulled at her lips when her sights set on Eddie. She made a beeline across the garden towards him and reached out to her right to turn the radio up as she passed.

At the far right side of the garden, Evan was playing football with Isaac and James. Her brother had been entertaining the boys in a game for nearly an hour now. Then on the left near the flower beds, (Y/n) could see Chris and Bella and it looked as if the pair of them were building some Lego creations. They were perched on the grass, lots of building blocks and mini cars surrounding them, and a large puddle of water sinking them into the grass.

They had been in the pool all morning, which was exactly where (Y/n) found Eddie and Rosie.

Eddie was stretched out, sat in the paddling pool in his black trunks and a thin black vest and matching sunglasses perched on his nose. His eyes were fixed on Rosie who was heading back up the slide to skid down into the pool.

Reaching the pool, (Y/n) crouched down and looped her arms around Eddie's neck, taking him by surprise. She pressed her lips against his neck and meshed her chest up against his back, feeling the water on his skin soaking into her clothes. Not that she minded at all. (Y/n) was only wearing a tank top and some shorts, the heat this last week had been sweltering.

Eddie didn't usually wear shorts very often but he had been living in them this week and this was the first time (Y/n) had seen him wear a vest or shirt rather than just walking round the house without one.

"Hi babe," He murmured softly while he turned his head to the left to peck her temple.

"Hi, having fun?"

"I will be if you're joining." Eddie leaned his head back on (Y/n)'s shoulder as a smile lit up his face. Neither of them had been able to say no this morning when all the kids asked if they could have the pool out. The heat was too sweltering to say no. And when Evan came round to spend the day with them, it was clear they would all be in the garden until sun down.

All the kids had been in the pool this morning, Evan included. But he and the boys had decided to play a game and when Bella started to cry because she was getting splashed in the pool, (Y/n) took her out and made her have a break. She was perfectly content playing games with her eldest sibling now.

That just left Rosie in the pool so Eddie decided to join her so she wasn't sat playing alone.

"Hmm, not yet. You can watch me beat the boys in a game." (Y/n) had only just dried off from spending most of the morning sat by the pool where all the kids decided to splash her. She wasn't ready for another dip yet. She wanted to show the boys how the game was done and beat her big brother in a game.

Eddie leaned a little further so he could attach his lips to (Y/n)'s neck while he reached his hands up to hold her wrists that were loosely draped around his neck. His thumbs brushed up and down her skin and he grinned when she moved so she could capture his lips in a kiss instead.

"Go show 'em how it's done. But no injuries this time please, mi amor." Edie spoke quietly against her lips, kissing her again and again until (Y/n) was going lightheaded.

She smiled and nudged her nose against his with a knowing look in her eyes. She knew what he was referring to.

"I wasn't the one who broke Isaac's finger, now was I?"

"I seem to recall you almost knocking yourself out though. Be careful."

Eddie had already warned Evan about playing football or basketball or any similar game with the boys. Evan had been playing basketball out on the front with Chris, Isaac and James a few months ago and they all had a collision which broke Isaac's index finger. They didn't want another trip down to the emergency room with broken bones.

And the last time (Y/n) joined in and beat the boys in a game, she fell and whacked her head against the car, almost passing out. At least here in the back garden, it was safer with the grass rather than any concrete, it would be a softer landing for any accidents. The back garden was more private and secluded as well which was a bonus.

"I will, I promise." With a lasting kiss to his lips, (Y/n) pushed his glasses higher up on his nose before she unravelled from him and headed over to the rest of her boys.

"Mum, are you playing?" Isaac looked to the right when (Y/n) walked over to the three of them.

She grinned when Evan planted his hands down on his hips and looked at her with that wide smirk that showed he was going to up the anti if she was joining in.

"Will you be on my team?" James reached out and took (Y/n)'s hand, looking up at her with those doe eyes that made her heart melt. James was the twin that always clung to (Y/n), whereas Rosie would attach herself to Eddie. He was only six and he wasn't as good at playing as Isaac was, who was eight and was taking football classes at school. But James knew if their mum played and he was on her team, he had a good chance of winning.

"Course I will."

"Daddy, look."

Eddie slouched down against the edge of the pool and tilted his head to the left to look across at Bella. The toddler was holding out a rather odd shaped Lego piece that he couldn't work out or guess what it was supposed to be. But the way she smiled at him softened his heart and made him nod.

"Clever girl," His approval made her giggle and she set down her masterpiece so she could make something else.

Being in the pool was the perfect place for Eddie, it allowed him to look all around the garden and keep an eye on his troop. Two were with (Y/n) and Evan, two were building random creations and one was now sat between his legs splashing some cups and rubber ducks around.

He could see Chris had started to build a tower that was almost the same height as him and he looked proud. Eddie just prayed Bella wouldn't decide to knock it down or else Chris would have a meltdown, but he was sure she wouldn't. Bella seemed to listen to Chris. She might try and wind up the boys or mess and play with Rosie, but she was rather attached to her eldest sibling.

Tilting his head down, Eddie looked down at Rosie in curiosity when she roughly carded her fingers through her long hair. He had started to call her Rapunzel with how long she wanted to grow her hair.

When she tossed her curls back over her shoulder, he straightened up and slowly started to gather up her hair and move it behind her ears.

"Plat?" She mumbled softly, tilting her head back to look up at Eddie who smiled and nodded.

He had grown very good at styling and platting Rosie's hair over the years. He never had to think about hairstyles before Rosie. When Eddie was with Shannon, they only had Chris who just needed his curls cutting and brushing a lot. Then when he and (Y/n) got together, they had Isaac so Eddie didn't have to consider hairstyles.

Finally, when the twins were born, they had James and Rosie and Eddie finally had a little girl. If Rosie wanted her hair styling for something special, she always went to (Y/n). But for school or simple days out or just when she wanted some attention from Eddie, Rosie always got him to do her hair.

And now they had Bella, Eddie could start styling her hair soon. She was only two so the most he would do was gather her hair up into a bobble in the middle of her head so it looked like an antenna sticking up. Eddie thought it was cute, Bella always reminded him of Cindy-Lou from The Grinch with her hair stuck up in a ponytail like she had today.

Rosie smiled and closed her eyes, staying patiently still while Eddie wet his hands and started to drag them through her hair to make it easier. Once he was finished, he kissed her temple and wrapped his arms around her middle, keeping her cuddled into his chest.

"Beautiful," He whispered against her hair while he looked ahead and watched (Y/n) land another goal past Isaac.

Rosie giggled when Eddie started to sway them from side to side and she planted her hands down in the water, splashing the water up at them. When Eddie kissed her cheek, she wriggled around in his arms so she was facing him and pushed up. She deadlocked her arms around his neck and leaned onto his chest with her cheek on his shoulder.

Reaching across from him, Chris put down the piece in his hand and gently flopped his hand onto Bella's just as she went to put a small piece of Lego in her mouth.

"Don't eat it, tinkerbell." He shook his head and looked across at his dad just to make sure he hadn't seen that. He knew Eddie would tell Bella to get back in the pool and stop playing if she was going to do that.

Chris remembered when Isaac had been little, he had been playing with some toy cars and choked on a broken piece of one he had been chewing. He could still see the panic on his mum's face and he remembered his dad having to do the hymelic on Isaac.

He watched Bella stand up and paddle across the damp grass until she could flop down next to Chris. Her head slumped on his arm and she started to mess around with the Lego again.

"Mummy winning," She muttered as she glanced around the garden.

"Uncle Buck will win." Chris looked back down at her with a smile, she looked like she was getting bored, and he was tired of playing too. He wanted to go back in the pool and he knew Bella might too since Eddie was in there at the moment. If she looked up and saw him cuddling Rosie, she might get jealous and run over to join in.

Bella began swaying from side to side, not doing much in particular with any of the building blocks in front of her that she was tired with. But her doe eyes widened and she leaned onto Chris's lap when she saw something land on his Lego tower.

"Bumble bee," Chris mused while he gently shook his tower to make the bee move. He didn't particularly like them after being stung quite a few times over the years.

They both watched it flutter around in front of them but Chris felt Bella jump beside him when it landed on her arm. The touch was so quick, so sudden that neither of them had time to move or react before it stung Bella's arm and swept off into the sky and disappeared.

Bella didn't seem to know how to react.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry out for Eddie and flap her arms and throw a fit because it hurt. Her arm felt like it had been stabbed and she didn't understand what had happened or what it had done to her.

But all she could do was gasp. Her arms began to wave and flap at her sides like she was pretending to be a bird taking flight. Her eyes started to water and go red like she had scratched them to ribbons. But her throat was the worst; it was starting to swell up. She couldn't breathe properly, she could barely scream, all she could do was make horrid gasping sounds that caught Chris's attention.

"Dad! Mum, Bella can't breathe!"

(Y/n) stumbled over the football and looked across at Chris with a frown, but as soon as she looked at Bella, her breath got caught in her throat. She hurried behind Evan who reached out to hold the boys and she went down on her knees next to Chris. Her arms reached out for Bella and she picked her up, settling the toddler down on her lap.

Was she choking? Had she tried to eat or chew on the Lego pieces? She didn't have a drink or any food nearby that she would have been eating.

But when her eyes landed on Bella's right arm, she went rigid. It was swelling up. Just up from her wrist, her arm was starting to swell and felt hard to the touch like it was a tyre being overfilled with air. "Eddie!"

Eddie leaned forwards and settled Rosie down in the middle of the pool when he realised something was happening on the other side of the garden. He bolted up to his feet and clambered out of the pool, dripping wet as he jogged barefoot across the grass.

The moment he slumped down to his knees, (Y/n) turned Bella on her lap to face him just as the toddler made a horrible, wheezing scream.

"What happened?"

"A bee stung her."

"A bee? Definitely a bee?" Eddie looked at Chris with a frown before he looked back down at his youngest. The only one who had ever been stung by a bee was Chris and he only ever got a small rash from it. He was the only kid with severe allergies, Isaac and Rosie had mild hayfever but that was it. "Baby, baby look at me, it's alright, stay still."

He reached over and pressed his fingertips beneath her chin, tilting her head back so he could feel her throat and see it she was breathing. Her airways were closing up. Her throat was tightening, the muscles were swelling and clamping together.

Bella continued to flap her arms and wriggled around on (Y/n)'s lap until she was almost laid out on the floor in her panic. Tears streamed freely down her face, her legs kicked out at Eddie, catching him in the abdomen as she tried to pull her knees up to her tummy to make her feel better somehow.

Her arms hit out at (Y/n) and brushed her face as her lips parted and her jaw trembled. She was trying to scream but she couldn't. She couldn't cry or make a sound or catch a proper breath and her efforts were futile and turning her inner lips blue.

"Isaac go grab Chris's EpiPen from the medicine cupboard. Now!" Eddie clicked his fingers and pointed towards the house until the eight year old bolted from the garden.

Eddie ripped the glasses from his nose and launched them somewhere behind him before he reached out and held Bella's swelling arm. He kept tight hold of her hand, clenching it in his fist to try and keep her arm steady while he moved his right hand over her swollen arm. His lips pressed together firmly and he waited for (Y/n) to hold Bella still before he moved.

"I'm sorry baby, stay still, please." He hushed while he squeezed her arm which made Bella thrash out horrible and smash her tiny feet into his stomach. Eddie squeezed harder, as much as he could until the broken sting from the bee came out of her arm.

He couldn't leave it in because she was clearly allergic and her body was going to keep reacting to the sting if it stayed in her arm. Once it was out, Eddie tossed it on the grass and moved to sit Bella up on his lap instead with his hands rubbing up and down her chest and back.

Her eyes screwed shut tight and she tried to flop forward onto Eddie's arm when she couldn't breathe at all.

"Baby go to Buck for me please," (Y/n) gave Chris's hand a squeeze and pointed behind her. He didn't need to sit and watch this, she could see the panic in his eyes and the way he was stimming his hand against his thigh said he was worried. He bashed his hand down on the grass but did as he was asked and scrambled over to Evan.

Both Chris and James stood on either side of Evan while Rosie scrambled from the pool and joined them where Evan picked her up when he noticed she was crying.

"I- I got it! Dad I got it!" Isaac panted and gasped as he bolted as fast as he could across the grass, skidding barefoot in the wet mud until he could slump down against (Y/n) and thrust the pen at his dad.

Eddie grabbed the EpiPen with haste and held it up, praying it was full and in date. His eyes briefly looked across at (Y/n) who was close to tears. None of the kids ever had reactions apart from Chris and they were always quick to treat him and know what was wrong. Bella was only two, she'd never had any reaction to anything before and now she wasn't breathing.

He tightly bound his left arm around Bella's waist, pulling her back into his chest so he could lean over her. He took off the cap and jabbed the needle into Bella's right leg, pushing the button firmly until all the adrenaline was administered.

They both hated the way Bella jumped and squirmed. Her face scrunched up and her lips curled and parted into a silent howling look that made tears fall down (Y/n)'s face.

Reaching over, (Y/n) gently cupped Bella's face and tilted her head back so she could look down at her. She was gasping. She was trying to breathe again, but (Y/n) could feel her throat was swollen and her lips were starting to turn a very worrying shade of blue on her inner lips.

"Eddie her throat's swelling up."

He dropped the EpiPen and pressed his palm flat on Bella's chest, trying to feel how deeply she was breathing, but it wasn't good.

She couldn't hold her head up. Her body seemed to turn to jelly and when she crumpled over onto Eddie's lap, (Y/n) saw the fire burning deep within his eyes.

"She's going to hospital, now. Buck, can you watch the kids?"

"Yeah, yeah go." Evan nodded rapidly while he swayed Rosie from left to right and rubbed his hand up and down her back. He could stay here with the rest of the kids and look after them while (Y/n) and Eddie took Bella to the hospital.

"Go get my phone and the car keys." Eddie turned Bella around in his arms and leaned her on his chest, securing her with one arm while he reached his other hand out for (Y/n). He held her elbow and helped her up before he nudged her towards the house and watched her bolt inside. "Stay with uncle Buck and be good."

"No, we wanna come-"

"Chris, you can't come with us, she's gonna be fine just… stay here, please." Leaning over, Eddie kissed Chris's temple and looked between Isaac and James before he turned and headed inside. He couldn't bring them all the kids down to the emergency room. It wouldn't be safe or fair and they had to go and focus on Bella. It was better for the kids to stay home with Evan and wait for them to come back.

Once he got inside, Eddie hastily grabbed the closest pair of shoes he had and slipped them on, regardless of how wet and bare his feet were. He didn't have time to change.

He found Bella's bag in the hall that they used when they were going out and he slung it on his shoulder as he bolted out the front door and over to the jeep. The back door was already open, (Y/n) was inside with her arms out ready.

"You got her?" He eased Bella down into her carseat and let (Y/n) strap her in while he climbed in the driver's seat.

His lips curled in distaste and he growled and shimmied around. He was sopping wet. His vest was sticking to his chest, his trunks were baggy and weighed down and sticking to his thighs and now the seat was damp. Not to mention his feet were slipping around in his shoes that were squelching. But he didn't care. He had to drive down to the hospital now or risk delaying Bella and making her worse.

"Bella, baby come on… wake up baby." (Y/n) kissed Bella's temple and brushed her fingers through her thin hair that was falling out of her ponytail.

She was slumped in her seat, arms limp at her sides and her head leant up against the side of the seat. Her throat and lips were still swollen just like her arm that was oozing and bleeding from the sting wound and she was breathing fast and shallow.

(Y/n) wrapped her arm around Bella's front and kept her lips against the top of her head.

The moment Eddie pulled up, (Y/n) unclipped Bella and swaddled her up against her chest. She felt Bella's head slump into the crook of her neck so she could feel each shallow, wheezing breath she took which made her throat croaky and her nose started to run.

The toddler stayed limp in her arms and (Y/n) ran her hand up and down the lilac swim suit she was wearing that was dotted with pink and blue flowers.

"Alright mi amor, off we go."

When Eddie opened the back door, (Y/n) shuffled over to get out while Eddie's hands found her arms and he helped her out. He curved an arm around her waist, tucking (Y/n) into his chest while he reached inside the back and found one of Rosie's blankets on the floor and a towel.

He wrapped the blanket around Bella and over (Y/n)'s arms and shoulders and started dragging the towel up and down his legs as they hurried inside. He was leaving a trail from the jeep down to the emergency room doors and he knew he looked a sight. Dripping wet wearing trunks and a vest and sopping wet trainers.

(Y/n) gently bounced her arms up and down, moving Bella around like she was trying to get her to sleep instead of trying to wake her up. She pressed her lips to the top of Bella's head and stayed leaning into Eddie. She didn't care how damp he was, (Y/n) just wanted comfort.

"Who have we got?"

"Bella Diaz, she's had a severe reaction to a bee sting. I gave her an adrenaline auto-injector but she's gone unconscious. She's only two." Eddie kept his left hand on (Y/n)'s hip and moved his other hand to her shoulder so he could lean over and look at Bella.

"Take a seat."

It was a relief when the receptionist got up and promptly disappeared. Eddie knew what that meant. It meant she was going to fetch the doctor herself and they shouldn't have to wait long for someone to see to them.

(Y/n) leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder when they sat down and she watched him brush his thumb across Bella's cheek. She was still wheezing and gasping, but when she murmured, (Y/n) felt a spark of relief.

"Bella Diaz." They were waved across to a doctor in the corridor, they had barely been sat down for a minute. "Bring her through."

(Y/n) felt Eddie's hands on her hips and his lips pressed against the back of her head as they wandered down the corridor and through into a small cubicle on the left. They headed over to the bed and gently laid Bella down, propping her up against (Y/n)'s chest as the doctor stood on the opposite side of the bed.

"Has she had reactions before?" The doctor found a stethoscope and listened to her heart before he listened to her breathing and gently started to feel her throat and peer into her mouth.

"No, never."

"I gave her an auto-injector and she started breathing again, but she passed out five or six minutes ago. I got the bee sting out too, it came out in one."

When the doctor gave Eddie a pointed look, (Y/n) softly added "He's a medic." Eddie knew what he was doing, he wasn't clueless or trying to play the hero, this was his daily life when he was at work. He just didn't think he would have to do this sort of thing at home with any of the kids.

"Let's get some oxygen into her system first."

(Y/n) smoothed her hand up and down Bella's arm while the doctor placed an oxygen mask over her nose and lips to boost her system.

"I'm going to put her on a drip and add some adrenaline into it to help keep her throat from closing up again." When they nodded, the doctor headed out the room to go and grab what he needed.

Eddie moved round and leaned his arm down on the end of the bed in front of Bella when she started to murmur and turn her head. He carefully took the oxygen mask off for her when she started to move and bat her hands about. He could of cried in relief that she was now starting to wake up but he rolled his lips together when she flopped her head forward and threw up.

"Oh, baby." He sighed, cupping the back of her neck so he could kiss the top of her head.

They were going to be here a while.

***

"They're home!"

(Y/n) held her breath when Isaac and Chris bolted over to the door and practically took it from her hand and swung it open. She let the pair of them barrell into her and wrap around her like vines. She looped an arm around each of them and walked further into the hall, stooped over to be level with the boys.

"Where's Bella?" Isaac leaned around to look behind (Y/n) and he and Chris watched impatiently as Eddie followed them inside and closed the door behind him.

He had finally dried off, his trunks were dried and crinkling around his thighs, his vest was glued to his chest and his hair was now askew and spiked up at odd angles. But in his arms, Eddie had his youngest cuddled into his chest.

Bella wasn't in heer swim costume anymore, she was wearing a teddybear onesie that (Y/n) had found in her backpack Eddie brought with them. Her hair was out of the bobble and framed near her cheeks that were puffy. Her head was curled up on Eddie's shoulder, her arms were around his neck and her knees were pulled up and resting on the centre of his chest.

"Let's go sit down." (Y/n) looked behind her at Eddie who looked as washed out as she felt. He was rubbing his eyes with his free hand and looked as if he could drop down and sleep right here and now.

She guided the boys into the living room but her lips quirked into a surprised smile when she saw who was here.

"Hi," Leaning over, (Y/n) wrapped her arms around her big sister and gave her a hug.

"Hi. Buck rang and told me what happened, thought I'd come over and help with the team." Maddie knew Evan would be able to cope with the kids on his own, but she thought it might he helpful to come round anyway. And all four kids were anxious without their parents here and after seeing Bella go unconscious, they were very panicked.

(Y/n) slumped down on the sofa and smiled tiredly when the twins moved over so one of them was tucked under each arm. She kissed the top of their heads and watched her husband trail into the room, bouncing Bella up and down on his chest.

"Hey little lady… how'd it go?" Maddie stood up from the armchair and moved in front of Eddie. She brushed Bella's slightly puffy cheek and smiled sadly at her. None of the kids had ever had a bad reaction like that before. Even Chris with his EpiPen never had such a horrid reaction to anything.

It was a good job Chris did have his allergies, none of them wanted to speculate what would of happened if they didn't have the adrenaline on standby and would have to wait for an ambulance.

Bella tiredly opened her eyes and managed a smile when she noticed who it was stood in front of her. She moved her hand to hold Maddie's outstretched hand, but she didn't move away from Eddie. She had been attached to him since she woke up and wouldn't let him put her down.

"Three hours of Hell. Adrenaline and fluids on a drip that she took out- twice. An inhaler she hated, to get her chest open. Antihistamines, meds for the swelling and now we have two EpiPens just for her."

The way Eddie's upper lip curled in distaste told all.

They had to stay in observation to make sure she didn't have another reaction and ensure she was actually alright. The drip got fluids back into her system and the extra adrenaline got her breathing normally, as did the steroids in the inhaler that opened her airways again. Her throat dulled back down, the meds set her body back in order. And now they had two EpiPens especially for Bella in case this happened again.

They also had an appointment at the doctors next week to do some tests and check there wasn't anything else Bella might be severely allergic to.

"Oh dear, poor baby, do you wanna cuddle?" Maddie held her hands out and Eddie bent down at the knees to try and ease Bella over to her.

She was usually very happy to be around her auntie and cling to Maddie, especially if Maddie took the kids out anywhere. Bella would insist on being carried around and Maddie and Evan always obliged. But today, she wasn't happy.

As soon as Maddie's hands found her waist and Eddie let go, she screamed. It ended in a cough as her throat was still dry and sore and her chest ached, but she screamed until her eyes were watering and her body was starting to shake.

Eddie's shoulders dropped and he sighed, quickly scooping her back up so she could burrow into his neck and sniff and gulp for air.

"Buck, do me a favour and sit there, I've needed the toilet for two hours." Eddie pointed across to the sofa and Evan knew what he was going to do.

He sat down and stretched his arms out while Eddie sat on the edge of the sofa next to him and leaned back, wedging himself between James and Evan. Eddie swayed from side to side and shifted Bella around while she kept her eyes closed and tried to stay snuggled into him.

Her lips quirked into a smile when Eddie lifted her up in the air, then brought her down and kissed her cheek. And when he lifted her again, Evan quickly took her and settled her down on his chest. She kept her eyes closed and snuggled into Evan who ran his hand up and down her back.

It wouldn't matter very much if Bella realised she was now with her uncle, not her dad. She was attached to both of them and she would settle for Evan almost as quickly as she would for her dad.

As soon as she was out of his arms, Eddie hopped up and made his way to the bathroom. For the last two hours in observation he needed to go but Bella wouldn't let him out of her sight. Even when (Y/n) tried to go get a drink, Bella screamed. She wanted both parents to stay and give her their attention so that's what they had done.

"What does it mean, to have an allergy?" Rosie looked up at (Y/n) before she wiggled from under her arm and moved to sit with Maddie. She had stayed with her aunt for the last two hours since she had arrived.

Maddie smiled and let her niece hop up on the chair with her and she bound her arms around Rosie's middle, letting her lean back into her chest.

And Chris went and took Rosie's space next to (Y/n) so she had him and James snuggled down into her sides. And Isaac sat on the floor in between Evan's legs, looking up at him with a tired smile and he reached his hand up to gently wiggle Bella's foot.

"It's when your body panics because of certain things, like a bee or certain foods. It can give you a rash or make it hard to breathe, like with Bella."

"What was in the injection dad gave her?" James snuggled his head into (Y/n)'s stomach and closed his eyes, he was tired but he was still paying attention.

After their parents left, he had tried to pick up the EpiPen and take it into the kitchen but Evan told him not to. He didn't want him touching the needle, it needed to go in the bin.

"Adrenaline, it helps with shock. Dad will show you how to use it later, for emergencies." (Y/n) began carding her fingers through James's hair while she felt Chris latch his arms around her upper chest and lean on her shoulder.

Now this had happened, they were going to have to show the kids how to use the EpiPen in case this happened again. Chris already knew and Isaac vaguely knew what to do, but he had to be shown again and the twins needed to know. Bella would now have to get used to having it in her backpack whenever they took her out for emergencies.

Bella snuggled her face more into Evan's neck who grinned and kissed the top of her head and began rubbing his hand up and down her back. He slouched further down into the sofa until he was barely sitting up and his knees cocooned around Isaac and bumped into the coffee table.

When she lifted her right arm and started to whimper and murmur, Evan gently held her wrist and rolled up her sleeve. Her arm was still swollen and it had been bandaged after the doctor applied some cream.

"Ooh, poor tinkerbell." He cooed quietly and kissed her bandage but he raised a brow and looked between his sisters when Bella suddenly realised the voice change. She tilted her head back and tiredly looked up at Evan with a frown. He wasn't the one she was expecting. Her lips curved down and she started to whimper but when Evan just smiled brightly down at her and kissed her temple, she stopped and flopped her head back down on his chest.

"Here you go, baby." Eddie wandered back into the living room and leaned over the back of the sofa to hand down Bella's pacifier. They hadn't given her the one in her back pack earlier because she still hadn't been breathing well and she was gasping. But now her breathing was back to normal again and she wasn't wheezing. It would help her sleep too.

She tiredly took it from him and just like Eddie expected, she shuffled up Evan's chest and clambered over his shoulder to reach up for her dad. Evan leaned his head to the side, supressing a groan as his hand stayed on Bella's back to keep her steady until Eddie scooped her up.

Eddie flopped down into the other armchair opposite Maddie and settled Bella on his chest. He leaned his head on his free hand while his other arm curved around her back and he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"Dad?"

"Hm?" He tried to keep his eyes open and looked over at James who was now laid out on (Y/n)'s lap. She had Chris practically laying on her chest, Evan now had Isaac sat on his knees and Maddie was cuddled up with Rosie. The kids were all attached to someone.

"Are we allergic too, like Chris and Bella?" Now they had seen Bella have a reaction, and they all knew the few things like nuts and certain cleaning products and soaps that Chris was allergic to. It made them wonder if Isaac, James or Rosie were also allergic to anything.

"I bloody hope not."

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #maddie buckley

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dr3c0mix · 1 year

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Okay hear me out: yandere harpy. The reader is on a hike or something and he notices them and is immediately enamored. He grabs them and keeps them in his nest and because it's so high up they can't get down on their own 😳

Lovey Dovey

Harpy x GN Reader

CW: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome

first day back from my hiatus and were already on some more sweet sweet terato ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ ive never written a harpy before but by golly ive been wanting to for a while! thank you smallcactus22 for requesting!

🪶 All you wanted was a fun adventure away from work, a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a colorless cubicle for god knows how long.

🪶 You wanted, no, needed a vacation. You looked through the many websites that showcased lovely tourist spots like beaches and retreats, all either a little too shady or way too expensive.

🪶 One caught your eye though, an ad for a hiking trip across a mountainous landscape filled with lush greens and lovely pink flowers, it was pretty affordable too. You immediately booked a spot on the hiking trail and wrote up a letter to your boss that you'd be on vacation for a few days.

🪶 When you finally came, you were already enamored by the scenery. Everything was a pink and reddish hue from all the petals that fell from the trees. You saw a person holding up a sign that said, "Hiking Trail!" and quickly ran up to the group of people supposedly taking the same hike as you.

🪶 The tour guide explained the history of the trail, it sounded more of a legend or myth however, with him speaking of an ancient race of humans with the ability to fly.

🪶 You thought nothing of it, probably just a part of the place's culture or something, you then followed the rest of the group to start the hike.

🪶 You couldn't help this uneasy feeling of being watched while on the trail, like there was something following you as you continued along the red path surrounded by pinks and blueish greens. It was probably a wild animal or two, you were in a forest after all.

🪶 On the other hand, Kalva could do nothing but watch you from the dense flora he was perched within. He's seen humans travel through the harpy infested woods before, all of which were uninteresting as a dried leaf on the ground.

🪶 So when he laid his eyes on you, it felt like an arrow to his chest. He was taken aback by how cute you were, so soft, so graceful. With the shawl you had on he would've mistaken you for one of his kind if it were not for you walking alongside other humans.

🪶 The harpies were very weary of humans, especially tourists. Only the few that have grown up near the mountains know of their existence, one that is protected lest danger falls on them like the old dragons of legend that was wiped out by greedy humans who thought of themselves as divine saviors in a world of evil.

🪶 Even with all these thoughts swirling in his head, he thought you were different. You didn't look at all like the other tourist who were babbling to themselves about who knows what with their funny black bricks that sparked now and again. They were so clumsy and ditzy compared to you who was just admiring the scenery around you, truly in the moment unlike the others who only cared for a nice photo or two.

🪶 After about an hour, the group stopped at a rest stop to take a break, you kept watching the flora dance and sway as everyone else drank and rested their feet. You treaded deeper into the pink forest, making sure to keep the rest stop in sight.

🪶 Just then you hear rustling from above, a large shadow gliding past you from overhead. You would think it was a bird if not for the size of the shadow. The shadow circled around you, as the shaking of the leaves above grew louder and louder.

🪶 Now your uneasiness is back tenfold, your heart racing as you frantically look around.

🪶 There was nothing there however, and you breathe a sigh of relief before turning to go back to the rest stop.

🪶 You yelp as you are, however, met with giant yellow eyes staring at you. You trip on a tree root and fall on your butt as a man half covered in feathers stared at you, penetrating your very soul.

🪶 You try to scramble away but the creature keeps walking nearer and nearer, his head cocking to the sides like that of a bird.

🪶 Your back meets with a tree as you're left in the mercy of this massive birdman in front of you. You feel tears starting to form in your eyes as a taloned hand reaches to your face.

🪶 You were surprised at the gentle touch you felt on your face as Kalva wiped your tear away, cooing softly.

🪶 "uhm...hello there?" you mutter.

🪶 "hello..." He replies in a raspy but quiet voice.

🪶 "Wh-who are you?" you ask, the tension in your body dissipating as you get more comfortable with him, well not really comfortable, just a little less tense as you were before.

🪶 "My name is...Kalva..."

🪶 "Kalva..I'm (Y/N).."

🪶 His pupils dilate at the sound of your name. He mutters it to himself like a word he wished to remember.

🪶 He sniffs at you, all over your body and clothes, focusing then on your bag. You reach inside and take out some crackers you packed for the hike and gave it to him. He was confused at first, never seeing a seed or insect like it, but was then greeted with a wonderous sensation of sweet and salty. He squawks happily, nuzzling his head into your chest, making you a tad bit surprised and unsure of what to do now that a bird man creature thing is cuddling you in a forest. You placed a hesitant hand on the back of his head and started petting him, he started cooing very softly, that must mean he's happy.

🪶 You then hear the tour guide call for everyone to continue on the trail, you greet Kalva goodbye and try to walk away when you're suddenly grabbed by your shoulders and lifted up. You yelp and scream, asking to be put down but the harpy ignored your pleas and flew high up into the mountains.

🪶 Oh what a day it was for Kalva! He knew the little human was the one! They fed him, they preened him, just like a good mate would! He must have been very good as his courting! Of course, his little mate couldn't have seen it from down below, but they surely would have if they accepted him so quickly right afterwards!

🪶 Finally they reached his perch atop a tall mountain. It was a giant circular hut of some kind made of branches and lined with colorful flowers and leaves. Inside, his nest was filled with cotton of the softest kind, only the best for his mate! Little baubles and shiny trinkets hung from the curved ceiling and trinkled softly as they shook. He placed them down as they shook in fear at the height.

🪶 Kalva landed next to them cooing and chirping comfortingly, don't worry my lovely! You won't fall from here! I will protect you!

🪶 It was like this for days; you trapped a thousand miles high in a nest you can't escape from otherwise the harpy would find you and carry you back. He would leave for hours at a time, offering you food and small gifts he's found he thought you might like, some of them things left behind by other tourists like a water bottle, a book, a hat and a few others.

🪶 At night, he'd pull you into a warm embrace under his wings. He can't help but stare at you as you snore peacefully under him.

🪶 Of course you were frightened to the core the whole time, but you tried your best to explain to him that you weren't his mate and that you needed to go home, but he kept insisting that you two were meant for each other, for him to coddle and fed you and you to love and preen him when he returns home.

🪶 He dreams for you both to have chick of your own, the idea of coming home to the happy chirping of little hims and yous gave him a happy giddy feeling.

🪶 After a while you figured getting down on your own wasn't an option and Kalva was your only hope in returning to the familiar world below.

🪶 You started talking to him more, books he would bring home, you'd read to him, food collected would be shared between you two.

🪶 And somehow, throughout this whole process, you managed to grow quite close to the man.

🪶 He understood English more, now collecting other foods like stolen snacks from tourists instead of bugs and wild fruits he'd usually eat.

🪶 You found yourself missing his company when he was away. He'd chirp happily as you rushed to hug him as he lands in your shared nest after a hunt.

🪶 Soon enough, he'd trust you to explore the mountain's peak outside of the nest. There was a lovely little lake next to his abode with a tree bearing red fruits. In the distance you could hear the faint calls of other harpies.

🪶 All you wanted was a fun adventure away from work, and you were given more than what you've bargained for, a glimpse into a hidden world of creatures far beyond your imagination, with one of them being your very loving mate.

and as a bonus, Kalva doodle for yall <3

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teacheesee · 9 months

Text

Dinner for Two - Sanji x Reader Smut!!

Sanji comes over to make dinner, how could you return the favor?

warnings: fem bodied reader, no pronouns used, nickname “princess” is used i can’t help it i’m sorry, oral sex, unprotected sex, sanji is a slut 😊

MDNI ‼️‼️

“Okay, so you brought me dinner and flowers now, this is so unfair!” You huffed, setting the flowers he had brought you down on an endtable by your entryway. He kicked off his shoes.

“I don’t have anything to contribute to this date at all!” Sanji leaned to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear, you being here is all I need. Can you show me the kitchen?” You nodded, hoping the blush that had crept across your face was subtle, the way he spoke and treated you always made you sheepish. You walked him to the kitchen of your apartment, and he settled in right away, a delicious aroma filling the air as you leaned against the counter and he started to cook. The dinner date was his idea, even though to you it sounded like he was bringing work home with him, but if it was what he wanted to do, then who were you to turn down a free meal?

After a few good dates, here he was, this guy who seemed too good to be true, bringing you flowers and cooking you meals. What was next? Him moving in? The less sensible side of you hoped so. You shook those thoughts away and focused back on watching him cook and dice and chop and whatever else he was doing. It was nice to watch him work so skillfully, mesmerizing almost.

Holy shit his hands. How hadn’t you seen them before? You felt like melting over the countertop where you stood. He kept his hands so clean, habit picked up from working in a kitchen his whole life, you bet. His fingers were so long and his hands flexing with the movement of the knife made you forget to breathe. It was a few seconds before you realized you were blatantly staring. Before you realized he was noticing. Your eyes met his and this time the blush that fell on your face was hot and undeniable.

You cleared your throat. “Im sorry, what were you saying?” He smiled.

“I didn’t say anything.” His gaze stayed on you, “It seems like you have something on your mind,” he leaned over the sink to wash his hands.

He’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he? You took a sip of your drink and shook your head, “No, I, I didn’t have anything,” You couldn’t help but look away, his gaze on you was searing. He dried his hands and walked over to you.

“You sure, my dear,” his hand reached up and held your chin, “Nothing at all?” The look he was giving you was taunting, and it was becoming near impossible to hold any kind of resolve. You went to shake your head again, but he held you firmly and tilted your head up, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You know I’ll do anything you ask me too. All you have to do is tell me what you want.” Your resolve crumbled with his breath against your neck, and you stepped away from him, walking out of the kitchen. You stopped at the doorway to the hall.

“You should probably turn the burner off.”

In seconds he was with you in the hallway, the top buttons of his shirt hastily undone as you kissed in a slow walk towards your room. Your hands traced his collarbone as you slipped through the door and sat on the bed. Your shirt was somewhere between here and the kitchen.

“You know what,” you breathed between kisses, “I think I thought of something I can do for this date,” your hands traced down to unbutton his pants as you sank to the floor. His breath caught in his throat as your fingers toyed with the hems of his boxers.

You looked up at him, his eyes pleading with you. You smiled up at him. “All you have to do is tell me what you want.” You began tracing the outline of his dick through his boxers and he inhaled sharply. All the cool he had earlier had left the second he left the kitchen, it seemed.

“Please, beautiful,” was the only thing he could manage, but it was an acceptable answer for you for now. Tugging his dick free from it’s confinements, you leaned over and spit on his tip, his soft gasps going straight to the space between your legs. You watched it drip down the length of his dick before wrapping your hand around the base and bringing your mouth to kiss the tip. He couldn’t help but sigh at the contact, in total disbelief of how beautiful you looked right now, how you were doing this for him. You began to take him into your mouth, tongue tracing the sensitive underside of his dick, cheeks hollowed out as a large hand softly rested on your head. Your head bobbed as you switched between licking around his head and taking him as far deep as you could. His breaths were quickening, and it took everything to not buck his hips into your mouth.

“You’re-- fuck-- taking me so well, my love.” The hand that rested on your head was gently pushing it down and tears brimmed your eyes as you hummed at the motion. The vibration from your voice was getting him dangerously close to finishing right then and there, and he quickly pulled your face away from him.

You sat back up on the bed and onto his lap as his lips met yours, “Don’t want to spoil your appetite,” he huffed, “so why don’t we put these hands you love so much to good use?” His fingers ghosted the sides of your body, making you shiver as they looped around your underwear, pushing them to the side. He made contact with your slit, pushing slightly in to gather some of the dampness that had gathered there. You jolted slightly as his finger lightly pushed on your clit, and he smiled to himself, holding you steady as he began to draw small circles around it. Your eyebrows furrowed in feeling as the circles grew bigger, his fingers dipping down and padding across your entrance. You shuddered when he worked two fingers inside, pulling them against your soft tissue. You leaned into his shoulder at the feeling of his fingers hooked inside you, pressing.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well, my love.” He freed his hand and pulled you closer by your lower back your stomach pressing his aching dick to his stomach, and he eyeballed how deep he would be inside you in a few minutes. The thought made him insatiable, and his fingers worked harder inside you to give you what you deserved. He could feel the space inside of you tightening, and your heartbeat was slamming against his chest. Your fingers laced in his soft hair.

“Sanji I’m--”

“I know, sweetheart, go ahead,” he said, and you listened. His fingers slowed to a calm pace to work you through your high and you sighed as you leaned into his chest. He had hardly given you a chance to catch your breath before nudging his knee between your legs, his thigh guiding you onto your back.

He kissed you and traced his way from your lips to the shell of your ear before, “Can I please fuck you, gorgeous?” You pulled in a sharp breath as you felt him line himself up with your entrance, tracing the tip around your sensitive edges.

“Pleas--” He nipped sharply at your neck as he pushed in.

“Never beg, beautiful. I’ll always give you what you want, understood?” He pushed in further, “Always.” With that word he bottomed out, and the gasp that was ready to leave your lips was breathless and silent as he stilled inside you, making sure you could adjust before he could really treat you. He could feel you relax as your body shaped to him, and he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before pulling out nearly all the way, only to slam back into you with a deepness that made your fingers dig slightly into his back, you were sure to leave marks but Sanji wouldn’t mind. With the way his eyebrows scrunched at the feeling, you were quickly assured that he preferred it that way, marked up with reminders of how well you were taking him, letting him fill you and treat you the way he has been wanting to from the moment you met.

With the deep stroking rhythm of his pace gradually losing momentum, he brought a hand down to messily pad your clit, bringing you closer to your high in time with his.

“So good, s’good for me, princess, you’re so good,” he slurred, his composure eroding as you tensed around him and your hips involuntarily raising up to meet his, his rhythm growing erratic and quick.

“Go on, pretty, come with me, please,” his voice was higher with desperation, and his neediness pushed you over the edge, spasming around him and pulled him deep inside. His huffing breath was mingled with various calls of your name as he came inside you, continuing to stroke shallowly into you.

After a handful of stillness, he pulled out and laid down next to you, reaching an arm up to softly push some hairs away from your head.

“Well,” he laughed, “I think we definitely worked up our appetite, huh?” You laughed in agreement, still slightly out of breath and flushed. He stood up and put his pants back on, tossing you his shirt.

“Here, and where are your towels? I’ll clean you up before I get dinner started again.”

You buttoned his shirt over yourself, and put your underwear back on as he walked to the kitchen. You laid down, closing your eyes as you waited. In a short time, he was back, carrying the plates into the room and setting them down on your bed.

“Woah,” your eyes widened, “Sanji this looks amazing!” He smiled, watching as you took a bite. “Yeah this might be the best meal I’ve ever had.” He laughed.

“I love cooking for you, beautiful.”

You spoke through a half-full bite, “So when are you moving in?”

AN: i’m back just in time to get on the one piece live action train before it stops being popular and people go back to normal. anyways sanji is a whore can i get an up top ✋ bye bye kitties mwah •.*

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welldonebeca · 4 months

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Glitter and Goo (I)

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. WC: 1k words Warnings: Tension. Romantic tension.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

You watched the door of the ship nervously as Bucky ran up, keeping your distance as he practically barked at you in the COM system to do.

"Are you sure you're alright?" you insisted as he walked past you, sniffing, a little irritated on the nose.

What was that smell?

"I'm fine," he grunted. "I just need to clean up."

You hesitated a bit. The two of you were alone in that mission, to find some special element on a different planet.

"Did you get it?" you asked him, crossing your arms.

Bucky walked into the isolated decontamination shower.

"I did," he called from inside. "It's in my pocket."

You walked near the door, trying not to look inside.

"Get me a ziplock bag," he commanded.

"Are you sure you are alright?" you insisted. "Bucky, if it sprayed on you-"

He didn't even let you finish.

"I'll be fine," he snapped. "Just get me the ziplock bag!"

You stood stiffly, surprised by the harsh words.

Now, that wasn't like Bucky.

He sighed on the other side.

"Sorry," he spoke quickly. "I'm just... I want to wash this off of me."

You walked to the side, taking some of the ziplock bags you had.

"What happened?" you asked him, showing the empty ziplock to him.

The door opened slightly, and he pulled it from your hand quickly, closing the door again.

"Fucking flower exploded in front of me when I was kneeling," Bucky explained. "There's powder and goo everywhere. But I'm alright, really. Just... let me shower."

You pressed your lips together, but kept quiet, not wanting to fight with him and have a long, awkward trip back home. It was just the two of you for two fucking days.

"Do you want me to get you a change of clothes?" you offered.

This wasn't your shared bathroom, it was a fucking decontamination shower.

Bucky sighed.

"Yeah," he decided. "Please."

You did, placing it down in the exit and putting your protection equipment before taking his clothes and the element.

His jacket was covered in some pink shimmery dust, as he had just gotten in the way of a glitter bomb.

You took some of it too, putting it in your database, along with some of the goo, though most of it seemed to have dried already. The best-case scenario was that nothing would happen, but it was best to be safe.

"Friday?" you called. "Can you send a copy of these to HQ too? Maybe someone knows what they are."

"Yes, ma'am," the system answered back.

By the time you were done and back, Bucky had left the decontamination shower, and looked very grumpy.

"Hey," you stopped in front of him, still a little hesitant. "Doing alright?"

He glanced up at you, eyes lingering on your chest before moving to your face, scrubbing his metal arm.

"I'll have to get someone to look into my arm," he told you. "I don't know if something got between the plates."

You tilted your head, surprised.

"I thought it was self-cleaning," you noted. "Like... a fancy self-cleaning oven, of sorts."

His lips curled in a tiny smile at your joke.

"Most of the time," he confirmed. "But I never had alien pollen and goo on it before."

You shrugged, amused.

"Well, good luck," you wished him. "I sent that stuff to the database, just to be sure."

He hummed a bit in confirmation, and you left him alone, going to the food supply to fix dinner for you two.

"Bucky?" you called. "Why didn't you tell me they packed us lemons?"

Bucky had been the one to deal with the food on the way up, more used to making food in a ship than you'd ever been.

You looked back at the lack of answer and walked back to where you'd left him, finding him resting back on the wall, looking a little loopy.

"Bucky?" you called.

He jumped, surprised, though his eyes were still heavy.

"Hi," he gasped back. "Sorry, what?"

"Lemons," you told him. "You didn't tell me we had them. I can make lemonade."

Bucky took his hand to his nose, pinching in.

"I'm not hungry," he told you. "Maybe just... I don't know. Squeeze one for yourself?"

You shifted on your feet.

"Are you alright?"

Bucky rubbed his eye.

"Yeah," he waved you a dismissive hand.

"Maybe you should have a nap?" you suggested. "Did you sleep since we left?"

He moved slowly, shaking his head.

"Gotta make sure you're safe," he mumbled. "We're in space."

You shook your head.

Bucky was so protective, and it was cute, but it worried you a bit. You were a scientist, not an agent or an Avenger, like him, but it didn't mean you couldn't protect yourself. You worked for SHIELD! Being able to protect yourself was probably the most important thing after being good at your job.

"Well, we can't be more alone," you assured him. "And the ship is very good at protecting anyone who is inside."

He scoffed, but you reached for him anyway, pulling him.

"Come on," you told him. "Bedtime for you."

He grunted but followed you quietly as you guided him down to your shared dorm, sitting him on his bed - the bigger one, large enough to fit his massive body.

"Don't want to leave you alone," he fell back, hand holding yours closely.

You squeezed his hand and he took it closer to his face, nosing your skin.

"I'll be alright," you assured him. "Don't worry."

But Bucky didn't let you go, holding you with such firmness you couldn't help but focus a little too much on it.

His lips brushed against the back of your hand as his eyes closed, mumbling something so low you couldn't quite understand the words.

He dozed, and when you tried to move, he just held you in place.

You sighed, and reached for your bed, taking your pillow and sneaking it to his side. It was weird, maybe, but when you put it near his face, he sought it with his nose, sniffing it and moving closer and grabbing it, finally letting you go.

Bucky nuzzled your pillow happily, holding it in a tight grip as he turned to his side, and it awakened something in you, imagining how it would feel to be the one he was squeezing so closely like that.

Still, you stood up, shaking some wisdom into yourself and walking out, closing the door.

He needed to rest.

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I post 6x a week.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515 @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs? @patzammit? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics? @alexisshoto

@dreams-of-feysand @dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

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honestsycrets · 9 months

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querido ii: ¿estás bien? | outlaw!miguel o'hara

Chapter List

❛ pairing | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | tripleshot(?); explicit

❛ summary | while miguel gathers gabriella, you have an unexpected visit from aaron. miguel doesn't take his visit well.

❛ tags | mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, spanish not translated, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats, implied physical assault, implied molestation, miguel beating a bitch up, mention of alcohol and smoking, f!reader.

❛ sy's notes | a bit long but-- enjoy.

The path Gabriella took was traceable. He wove through the pass of battered grass with efficiency, passing by groups of grazing cattle until he came upon a small wooden barn. It was nestled just in the mouth of the forest. It was clumsily built and even more sloppily painted. Miguel had no doubt that it had to be Peter’s handiwork. It had that look about it, half done but done in love.

“Gabriella?” her name was clumsy on his tongue. Before today, he’d gotten no word of his daughter in smuggled letters from Peter. Didn’t even know you were pregnant. It made sense, after the accident, that he’d step up. That was the kinda man Peter was.

“Go away,” she sniffled between the fallen tears and snot, her sobbing loud and relentless. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Let me take you home, kid.”

“No.” she bit out. “I don’t know you.”

“You know your mama.”

“I don’ think I do,” she said.

“Yeah, well, that makes two’a us.” Crestfallen, Miguel set his back against the wood panneling, folding his broad arms one over the other. His head connected with the aged old wood, staring into the distance at your little house with its peeling paint and tall flowering trees. He takes a swig of his flask of booze, needing something to cut with the sudden reality that he was an instant father. A smoke would do, too.

He should have known his method of pulling out and praying would slip up one day. Apparently, that came sooner than he thought. If he searched his memories way back when, he might have remembered a time or two that he failed to pull out, your beautiful body riding him for all he was worth. All beat up, he was a sad sex partner, clinging underneath layers of your frilly dress to fuck up into you. Coño, that had to be it. A laugh slipped off his lips, empty of his typical sass and mirth.

“Came back to see my girl and end up a father, fancy that.”

“Your girl?” Gabriella said, in between her raw tears. “What’d you mean your girl?”

“Tu mamá. She was my girl. Met her as a cattle hand for her papá. Back when I used to do things right,” Miguel found himself explaining, turning his head over to the tiny window. He couldn’t help but remember the first time you caught his eye-- the day you dropped that ruby-red rebozo into a muddy puddle on the way back from church. Whirling off his newly broken horse, Miguel near flung himself off her saddle to pick it up. Gabriella shifted to look out the empty window at him. “Shoulda seen her then. She had this glimmer, used to bring me out burros no matter how hot it was.”

He remembers the many days sitting on the wooden gate, tearing tasteless dried meat until you came around. You slipped out of your mother’s schoolhouse without fail to bring him something to eat. He hated sopita days the most. You loved those days the most. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd eat it, smack on a smile. Listened with an annoyed grin to the other cattle hands when they teased him about having to drop his entire salary back on the man to get your hand in marriage. Like the asshole would give you to a sunburnt, down-in-the-dirt cowboy like him. If he'd known that, he would've just eloped before things got... messy.

“Mama likes sopita,” Gabriella said. At least she knew her mother. “I like frijoles and tortillas.”

Sencillo. She was a simple child. Miguel exhaled a plume of smoke, spotting a dark brown horse out in the distance. He wasn't sure, but it could be Aaron coming to bother you again. He swore that the man had come in earlier when Miguel was feeding Widow in the barn.

“Abuelo y mi tia were shot.” She stated. What'd you do?! She’s not moving! Miguel shook the memory free. Every time he remembered, he hoped he could forget. He brings his cigarette back to his lips as the little girl goes on. “That’s what mamá said. Then, the paper says you killed the sheriff. Real outlaw like!"

“That’s what they say,” he mumbled, finding his mind running.

The days of running from his thoughts were coming to a quick end. He’s traveled far and wide, never married-- though he had certain needs met. It never fit. No one’s body held the quiet calm of yours under his, your fingers dancing the expanse of his muscled back, your soft lips on his chapped ones. He just wanted to make it right, thinking there was nothing more to tie you down. Looking at the curious twinkle in his daughter’s big brown doe eyes, that was obviously wrong.

“Yeah, but did you do it?”

“Don’t think your mamá would appreciate me talking out of turn.” Miguel unfolded his arms, knowing that he already said too much. He doesn’t know how much of the event you’ve told her. It’s easy to want to tell her things, to be more honest, and to invite open conversation like a papá should. He let Peter handle it all for years.

“What about me?” she asked, curious. “Did’ja come back for me?”

“You?” Miguel peeped over. “I didn’t even know you were alive, kid. Besides that, you won’t even talk to me man to man.”

“Man to girl,” she pushed open the door and popped out with her hands square on her hips. She’s a little spitfire, standing there proudly, fractured in some beautiful way, through moments of grief. It still wears in her girlish eyes, but it's smoothed over some by Miguel’s presence. He suddenly has a terrible fear of letting her down. He caught the tail of a frown before it dissipated. She presented him with her hand.

“My papá’s gone, so you’ll just have to do.”

Great, he’s a second-rate father. He knows he’s no Peter, who could run off with the smallest joy a child had. He could make it seem like the most amazing thing he’s ever heard. Miguel has a cold demeanor, his aptitude in things outside gunfights is questionable, and he has a fat ass bounty on his head-- no doubt spearheaded by Aaron. The deaths were so old. The sheriff was another issue. Why else would he keep chasing him?

“I’ll try.”

He could do this. Whatever having a child entailed, he wanted to do it. To one day bring that smile to Gabriella’s lips. A smile warmed his hardened face as he took hers. It’s the only thing that a newfound father could wish for his daughter-- to be the source of her happiness.

By the time they trek back home, there is no sight of Aaron. Widow is tucked kindly in your barn, out of the sweltering sun that beat down her little face to keep her safe. They take the backdoor in.

“Mamá?” Gabriella stepped in first. Miguel followed after, his hand on his gun out of habit. Too many sleepless nights in the middle of nowhere, nights sleeping in caves and rocky ground. “Mamá, are you there?”

Your clothes are thrown over a wooden chair, forgotten. Your cleaning water is used and indicates that you cleaned up in their absence. Miguel stepped past a broken dish in the kitchen that Gabriella thought fell off on its own accord. He set the sherds on top of one another and continued on in his inspection of the kitchen.

“Oh, mama made pie!” Gabriella picked up the forgotten peach pie from the window and set it on the lace tablecloth that covered the table. Miguel promptly shut the window behind her. He recognized Peter’s old pistol on the table, still holstered up in your thigh wrapping. Night had fallen on the home. Had they been gone so long?

Something’s off-- Miguel decided.

“I’m upstairs,” you called from up the steps. Your voice sounded strained, suppressing something Miguel didn’t quite understand.

“Eat n’ bed,” he told Gabi.

"Can I eat the pie?"

"Eat what'cha want." He minded how she took the pie up to her room with a shake of his head. He wasn’t getting him any of that any time soon. He checked her room first, shooing her off with the awkwardest hug. Not on his part, but hers. She squeezed his waist the tightest she could before she disappeared inside.

On his last visit here, he hadn't gone into depth exploring the home. It was beautiful. Warmed by your touch with well-framed family portraits and knick-knacks he recognizes from a decade ago. It’s terribly domestic, but that’s the beauty of a lifestyle he is alien to. Miguel hovered before a wedding photo. Unlike the typical wedding photos he saw town to town, you were clearly pregnant behind that tight white dress. Peter was clearly grinning like the idiot he was. He draws his knuckles over the heavy wooden door with a silent knock. He doesn’t want to fall into a trap with his daughter next door.

“Adelante,” you whispered, inviting him in. He pushes the door apart.

There’s no sign of Aaron. You sat at a small vanity, combing your hair out with a hand-me-down brush. Your hair fell over a heavy welt on your cheek that wasn’t there hours ago. His eye trained on the bruise. For a few long moments, he was silent. He eventually clicks the door shut and takes several steps forward, peeling your tiny palm that obscures the heavy bruising on your cheekbone.

“Did you find her?”

“What happened?” he asked, plain and dry. No room for debate, no way to deflect. You turned your head to one side, stroking your nightgown for a semblance of comfort. He removed your hand and set it on your lap, his large hand tilting your face in gentle concern. You abandoned your brush on the vanity. The spot was hot and angry, burning with a blotchy color that painted your face in a watercolor of bruises. “Was it Aaron?”

“You saw him?” He met your eyes and kept his gaze steady and strong. That was his answer. You sighed. “It’s not important.”

“Did he put his hands on you? Did he-- touch you?”

Miguel knew how Aaron looked at you in the past. Even back then, married to your sister, his eyes always wandered to any pretty thing. It wasn’t enough that the rumors that spread were full of talk of Miguel and you, ever the hot topic at every dance he took you to. Not because it was unique but because your father had clear objections to the match. Aaron took his presence as a threat. Right now, it was.

“Did you find Gabi?”

“She’s safe in her room,” he cropped his words. “I want to talk about you.”

“Y yo no,” you looked away. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Mi amor,” Miguel brought his hand down, supporting your soft jaw in his hand. Miguel doesn’t beg, but he will this time. It was all he could do to make you tell the truth. To soothe the sick feeling in his gut, to make sure that you were well taken care of. In a surge of concern, Miguel tried to push the issue further. “Don’t shut me out.”

“You’ll get all worked up and that ain’t gonna do nothin’ but raise that bounty on your head.”

"So." It doesn't matter that you had a point. There was a warning hanging in his eyes-- he wouldn’t let it go. Not without an explanation first. It was impossible. "I already got a chunk of change on my head. What's one more gonna do?"

“He’s been pressing me to search the ranch for you every so often,” you admitted, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I left the front door open and he came on in while I was changing. I was about sick of it, querido, so I told him to go away. I guess… he didn’t like that much. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Miguel cut you off. That was closer to a version of the truth than he knew you wanted to admit. He knew you enough to know it wasn’t the full story. Miguel slipped onto his knees, his worn slacks scratching the floor beneath him. He held your hands in his, reminding himself not to lash out, throw something, or hit something for not being there. There was no outlet for his rage right then. He'd take it out on something later.

“He didn’t violate me if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” Your lip pursed, struggled to make words that don’t hurt so much. Your tongue was fat in your mouth as you explained. “He just… grabbed on me a bit.”

Grabbed on you a bit? Miguel searched your fingers with an intent expression for an answer that made sense. You were being cryptic. He doesn’t particularly like weighing the options of what it could mean. He could have grabbed the door and forced his way in. He could have grabbed you and tried to force himself on you. The thought burned low in his stomach, simmering the need for revenge.

“What’d he grab?” he drew your name out in a soft, puff of a thing. Your fingers left his, smoothing over your nightgown again in an effort to soothe yourself. Your breath quickened, a clear signal that he was hitting his limit with you.

“I don’t--” you struggled. “I don’t want to talk about none of that. You just came back today, Gabi learned the truth, Peter-- I can’t do it. Can’t you let it go?”

He knew that the tears pricking your eyes weren’t over something like Peter’s death or the bite of dust in your eyes. Shame and embarrassment dangle before him, fueling his enmity with a man that he’d not run up against in many years. If anything were going to force him into action, it would be this.

“If that’s what you want, amor.”

He couldn’t let it go. But if it helped you relax, he’d just let you think he could. Miguel sprung up on two feet and kicked off his dark brown boots under your wooden vanity. He slipped off his suit jacket and vest before offering you his hand.

“I should… check on Gabi. She might be hungry.”

“She took up with that pie you made her. Menudo’s on the stove.”

“Pero… I should make sure she’s okay.”

“Amor, are you okay?” he asked, his voice terribly mild, but bore a seriousness that struck a cord in you. His words hung like the blade of a scythe, cutting through the strength you had to have day to day since Peter passed. First death. Now as Miguel suspected, a molestation?

No, you choked out, your face pale of its usual warmth. You didn’t fight as he brought you into bed, his hand underneath your neck to draw you close. He knew his smoky scent would reek the sheets, yet you did not seem to care, burrowing in the space between his neck. Your hand slipped underneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt, curling in his chest hair. He caressed your back in soft circles.

“Miggy?”

“¿Sí, mi hermosa?”

“Make it better.”

Take care of it, he thought bitterly. That’s what you meant. Miguel slid his other large hand over the back of your neck, working you through the tears. The flood of your tears against his neck reminded him of how pathetic of a job he’d been doing, caring for his new little family, for you-- the woman he came to take away.

For this moment, he could only cradle your cheek and distract you with a salty kiss. He clumsily nudged his nose against yours to force you to pay attention to him. He probably tastes of booze, smoke, and a little bit of dried meat, but if he does, you don’t seem to mind it. Your lips shuddered, lips opening slightly to allow him to kiss you more fully. Your kiss held its own familiarity, a signal that he was home despite the years that passed.

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you murmured against his lips. “I ain’t that strong.”

“You’re plenty strong. Got through a whole pregnancy without your man around, raised her up good.”

“I knew I was with child before you left,” you peered up. Emotions flickered there: a rush of anger, uncertainty, disappointment, most of all, sadness pooled in his eyes. “I just… I ain’t know how to tell you, what’d it change with papa not liking you the least bit after Lupe’s shooting.”

“I would’a wifed you up quick.”

Now-- what would he do? Miguel wasn’t stupid. It wouldn’t be just Aaron who would come around the longer he spent in this town. Bounty hunters of all kinds would be breathing down his neck. There was no future for him here. The only alternative was to take his family out of this tiny town, carve out a new life elsewhere. Miguel brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

“I still would.”

Your cheeks are warm as they get, “Who’d marry an outlaw and a widow?”

“Someone out west that ain’t know about us.”

“There such a place?” you asked.

“'Course there is,” he assured you. “Think ‘bout it.”

You looked at him for a long time, considering if Miguel was telling you the truth, but he’s never lied before. Not where it counts. Miguel’s hand wandered, pulling your thigh over his, content with your consideration.

“Think that’d make me a bad mom, whisking my kid off to be with an outlaw, ain’t it?”

Miguel arched his brow at you, his eyes glossy and warm, teasing. In any other case, he might have agreed. But it was his child you cared for. He wasn’t about to abandon you— no way to make money, no way to take care of Gabriella but to remarry or sell off everything and try a life in the city. You liked rocking on a rocking chair at the end of the night, running through the wildflowers, and the taste of honey in the warmer months. You were no city girl.

“Ain’t like they don’t know whose kid it is.” Miguel laughed, a tuft of pride spilling into his words. “She look like she's mine.”

“Peter’d say that too.” The thought made you smile in a way you knew it shouldn’t. As good as a man Peter was, he brought up that fact the day you gave birth, when he abandoned the fields to be by your side. How we gonna hide this? He’d laugh. She ain’t look Anglo. She look just like Miguel. He always did say he hoped that it wasn’t too obvious. It was. Peter was a one-of-a-kind man. The memory brought a twinge of a smile to your face, looking over your marital bedroom. Speaking of others--

“Didn’t you meet other girls out there?”

Miguel forgets the kind of woman you were. A very jealous, terribly protective woman. He knew the question would come up eventually. You were a woman who loved to be the center of his world. Every man and woman wanted to be the only one in their lover’s eyes. He traveled the grassy roads for years and saw all there was to see. All types of women. Native women who lived on the land and slept in longhouses. Anglo women seemed to love to run their fingers down his swarthy skin but never considered bringing him home-- even if he wasn’t interested. Black women always fed him, even if they distrusted him a little. And, Hispanic women whose fathers did not like him prowling around their land. He couldn't blame them. He wouldn't want someone like him for Gabi, either.

“I met my share.”

“And you still came back?”

“Yeah? I came back for you. What, you want me out?” Despite your brilliant, soft smile, your mind ran like you’d taken the first ticket on the railroad out of town. He knew what you were thinking. You were wondering how many women he’d been with, what they were like, what--

"You're so sassy," you teased. He slid on top of you, his fat belt buckle catching on your nightgown. His lips peppered gentle but scratchy kisses down the expanse of your neck. The soft bruising there reminded him of Aaron’s mistakes. He'd take care of that next.

“Miggy,” you giggled, tugging on his thick dark brown hair. “Stop it.”

“Todavía te amo,” he lifted off your neck enough to utter the words. Your cheeks flooded with an unfamiliar warmth. You'd not had someone to make your heart soar in a really long time. Your hand curled up his head, dipped along the curves of his face to his sharp jawline, and tugged him to look at you. He complied, a tilt in his head.

“I wanna see you naked. You’ve gotten so big,” you said. “Take off your clothes.”

Well-- he had to know that one was coming. Miguel suppressed a small snicker from leaving his chest as he pushed off the bed and brought his fingers against the buttons you hadn’t undone. You scooted up on the bed, dragged your gown over your knees, and watched him undress. He drew the shirt off his massive arms and threw it in on your chair. His skin was memorable, still as dark and swarthy as you remember, but cut in more defined musculature. You brought your nail to your lip, suckling on the nail as he threw you a half-lidded look.

“Well?” he hooked his thumbs onto his belt buckle, waving a little closer. “You're not saying anything.”

“You’re so big, querido.”

“Believe you already said that,” Miguel teased.

He knew he looked good. It was how he attracted so many different women. You twiddled your fingers to urge him closer. Something about you loosening his belt filled his belly with a distant excitement. He watched you unlatch the fat buckle and draw his belt free of the loops with a whirl of leather. He held his thick leather belt in one hand as your trembling hands came up to unbutton him. The firm fabric slid down over his hips, revealing nothing beneath but his hirsute legs and a flaccid cock that settled on a tuft of nearly black pubic hair. If he wasn't mistaken, you moistened your lips.

Selfishly, he wonders how many men you’ve been with since he ran off. He wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted to be with a hundred. He left you pregnant, without a family, and likely terrified.

“How long’s it been?” Miguel stepped out of what was left, standing there as naked as the first day he came into this world, exposed without his rifle or his handgun. Your cheeks flared with warmth, gliding a hand up his hip. “Since you've been with a man.”

“Eight years.”

He knew that Peter had no interest in you, and you had no interest in Peter. He was simply a good man doing what he thought was right. If not for Peter-- he’s not sure what would have become of you. Yet, illogically, he thought you could stomach to be with another man.

“You never been with another man?”

“I married Peter. I’d never do him like that,” you shook your head, inching your hand over his cock. After eight years, you deserved a good fucking. He can’t bring himself to force you into it, not after what you’ve been through tonight. He allows you to lead, milking his cock with your small hand. Your other crawls up to his scarred stomach, tracing the line of hair to his navel. There were countless scars on his body, never afraid to leap head first into a battle.

“I bet you had needs,” Miguel murmured. "You use your hand?"

“‘Course I did, Miggy. I’m a woman, ain’t I?” You looked up at him, your bruised face beautiful as it was. Despite what other men liked to say, that women ain’t need to do nothing but lay there and take them, Miguel knows better. His mind is full of distant memories of sex with one another. Sneaking out in the deep of night to fuck in the fields, snatching you midway through your chores to kiss and finger you in the barn, or exchanging the smallest of glances around town. "Now don't talk so nasty, Gabriella is right next door."

“Downstairs. Lemme take care of you,” Miguel found took your hand, lifting it away from his cock and forcing you to stand. You complied, following his hand that slipped between your legs, stroking up your thighs to your neglected core. He imagines that on nights like this, quiet and alone when Peter was on a cattle drive, you’d come into your bed just like this. Slip over your bed, stroke your long fingers over your puffy lips, maybe dip one inside, and think of him.

“What if she comes in?”

“She won’t.”

“But I don’t know how to--”

“Mujer. You don’t need to think of anything short of what I’m about to do to you.” Miguel lifted your nightgown up and off your body. Your hands snapped to your midsection, covering whatever it was that was so offensive.

"Stop that." Miguel tilted his head to the side, flicking your hands away from appreciating the sight of your belly, littered with softly discolored stretch marks.

“But I ain’t pretty no more,” you told him. “I got--”

“You got marks from bearing me a baby. I know. Now, hush up,” Miguel teased gently, the pads of his fingers swooping over the marks. They had gone silvery with age. Perhaps, he thinks, you thought you'd never be with a man. Now, you seem so suddenly self-conscious of the marks that litter your skin. He curved his hands around to squeeze your plush hips, flushing his body against yours. You felt his cock rub up against your belly, soft to the touch. Miguel's cock stiffened against your navel, a feeling that brought a crack of arousal through your core. You rubbed your thighs together for the friction. As relief pooled in your belly, Miguel seized your jaw to kiss you, his hands slapping your ass to force you to move. You shifted forward, crying out into his muscular chest. “I’m after a woman, not a girl. Get on all fours. It’s my turn to see you.”

You complied by sliding onto the bed, memories of what Miguel liked flooding your mind: chest against the sheets and ass up. Despite the very real concerns you had about his attraction, Miguel seemed no worse for wear when you looked over your shoulder. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he grabbed your ass, massaged your cheeks between his palms, and separated your lips. He licked a long band up between your tender lips, enough to wrench free a soft gasp. He suckled on them with a wet pop, the puff of his lips musing hot air onto your cunt.

“That’s cute,” Miguel murmured, letting his palm come on your ass for a teasing slap. You groaned, the hot redness burned in a sweet and unfamiliar way. His lips began to moisten with your lubricant spilling over them, tasting of a woman he hadn’t had in too long. His tongue prodded at the entrance to your gentle hole, pushing in one of his thick digits. Your walls protested the intrusion, clamping over the foreign finger.

“Ah Miguel,” you curled your toes, his finger stretching you in preparation for his fat cock. “I ain’t sure I can take you.”

“Sure you can.” Miguel hummed, inserting another alongside the first. You were tight, that was for sure. He was sure that you hadn’t been with another man in years, just as you said. It made his cock leak to think of it-- your virginity was his, your child was his, and… now you’d be his again. He spat on your hole, his wet saliva squelching with your lubricant around his broad fingers as he entered your body. Your hips rutted back onto him, instantly making Miguel release a husky laugh. "Your pussy knows you can. Look'it eating me up."

"Por dios Miguel, don't talk like that." You stiffened around his fingers. His mouth had gotten nastier in his time away. He knows you like the way he worships you, finger flicking lightly over your walls, making sure to stretch you wide. Another slipped alongside the first, twisting his wrist for a deeper thrust, working you nice and loose, enjoying the gasps of decadent pleasure. Miguel whispered beautiful words of praise, remarking on how easily you took him, how well you'd be in only a few minutes. Your hands ruffled the sheets, cantering your hips back onto him. You needed his words, so tired after years of sexual frustration.

"That's it. Tell me you missed it," he fucked you a few more times before his rhythm would die off, leaving you empty of him. His hand shifted to your breasts, molding them between his big palms, waiting for an answer that sounded right.

"I missed you, Miggy."

Miguel momentarily paused. Then, he stepped up, the hair on his legs brushing your thighs as he mounted you. The blunt head of his cock nudged along your lips.

“I’ma fuck you now,” Miguel murmured into your ear, letting his chest rest on your own. He pushed into you. Your walls stretched with his long stroke, Miguel's face tightening up. He was seated against your cervix, pushed up as far as you would let him go. For all your whining about his language, the obscene cry that left your lips was loud. Loud enough that Miguel slapped his hand over your mouth. He hooked his thumb in your mouth, forcing you to suck him as he sped up his deep thrusts, pushing you closer to your limit.

“Just gorgeous, mi hermosa.” Miguel found himself grinding forth. The repetitive squeaking of the bed made what he was about to say real stupid like. “But you gotta be quiet. Gabi don’t need to know what we’re doin’.”

Your tongue coasted around his thumb, suckling him nice and wet. Your walls clamped back over him, unused to the feeling of having a man inside. Miguel found himself rutting against your cunt, his tightening balls slapping your ass as he moved. Again and again, Miguel set a soothing, quick rhythm, filling the emptiness from years ago.

He'd been with many women over the years. None felt so easy, so like home. He curses himself for not doing it sooner. Your fingers dipped between your bodies, filling the emptiness, and causing your pleasure to blossom under your fingers. Pleasure explodes in your core, battered by his frantic thrusts, and your mind goes over the edge into some distant land of warm pleasure. Your walls spasmed violently, and Miguel's gasps became thin, adjusting his hold on your hips under the clench of your muscles against his length. He holds onto his decency poorly, strain bundled in his brow.

“Could you-- inside?” you said between his thrusts, muffled by the fingers hooked in your moist mouth.

“I do that-- and-- you'll get pregnant,” you’re both older now, he wants to think wiser than being two stupid kids fucking one another without care. Not that his pull-out game was particularly great back then-- Miggy please, you cry his name out, a tone that is stretched sweetly thin, walls spasming tightly over his fat cock. He muffles a curse, his pace jagged and uneven, desperate.

“Please, I miss it,” you cry, a litany of please threatening his ability to be well-behaved. He never was good at that in the first place, never good at saying no. Miguel drags you onto his cock, complying with a groan that he didn’t mean to be quite so loud. Thick streams of cum fill your tight little hole, bubbling out around the site of your union. He rides out the tails of his orgasm, earning you desperate little snaps of his shaking hips.

“Ay dios,” Miguel came down from his high with a slap to your ass, ripping his other hand free from your mouth to comb through his hair. He didn’t just-- he did. Miguel threw a glance at you, your shy eyes hiding behind an embroidered pillow. “I came inside.”

Coño. Great. Just-- great.

“I can feel it,” you teased him. He was stressed out, seeing a stream of his cum dribbling out from your cunt. He didn’t even know how to take care of one. How was he going to take care of two? His eyes narrowed.

“You best pray that it don’t take.”

“Don’t think I control that, Miguel.”

He pieced himself together smoothly, failing to notice anything but the emptiness that settled in your chest. A sigh left his chest and Miguel would set a kiss on the top of your head, looking toward the clothes-covered chair. Your eyebrows drew together in the realization that Miguel did not intend to stay.

“Are you leaving already?” You whined, pulling his name out from somewhere deep and lonely. He knew what it was. He just fucked you-- and now, he was going to run off. “Where you off to?”

“I got something to do. I’ll be back another day.”

A frown marred your soft features, lips slapped shut. You pushed away the warm quilt and slipped below it with your head on pillows that still smelled of Peter. You took one, propped it under your arm, and hid your lovely face from view. Silence filled the suddenly stuffy room. Other women would whine and complain about his fuck-and-run attitude. He didn't usually care.

Miguel dropped his pants, drawing closer to look at you. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see an ounce of the grief in your watery eyes. Panic, embodied in sparks of anxiety, spilled down his chest. Filled his stomach full with a fear of aggravating your already damaged state.

“Hermosa…” he began, his voice tender and soft. He slipped behind your back, his fingers running across your waist. "What is it?"

“I’m-- I don’t want to be alone. I didn’t want you to go,” you stammered into the pillow, blinking back tears that fell so readily. You didn't want to say what happened, but you needed his comfort more than sex. Your words were heavy, hard to make out, almost as if you were suffocating. “Not so soon.”

“Then I stay,” he said, husky and soft.

“You’ll stay?”

His muscular arms bunched around your waist as he set a kiss on the top of your head. He was careful, sliding you away from the hunched position on your bed onto his chest. He’d stay if that was what you wanted. Not permanently. He could never afford you such a promise here, where many a man had 2099 reasons to chase him down. You were his reason to stay, to keep you safe. The other slept next door. Or, he hoped she was sleeping.

“For tonight.”

He forgot what this felt like, the ability to stay in bed with someone you cared for, no pressure to run. Miguel was disheartened without his gun in arms reach, instead combing his fingers through your hair, watching the moon draw overhead. At some point, your breath faded into a gentle rise and drop in your chest to the tune of the whistling wind against the side of your home.

He found himself awake for minutes after, focusing on the bright moon multiple times that night, her embrace cool and welcoming. The constellations pale in comparison to the bright light that streamed into the room. He could almost imagine doing this every day, in another world, where his head wasn’t on a wanted flyer in your biblia. Sleep claimed him, restful and horrible, and hours passed.

The gun was hot. Miguel's fingers trembled, wrapped around the grip of his mother's old gun. "Lupe! Miguel, oh glory, Miguel what did you do?" He hears your distant scream, the desperation rooted in your voice. There was a pool of blood by his feet, dripping out from a woman who gave him nothing but grief.

"What I had to," As much as he'd tell you that killing her, rather than wounding her, was wholly an accident, he knew it wasn't. It was another something he had to do. He knew the next something would be your father wielding that ancient rifle and putting a claim on his head.

Shit. He wakes with a start. Miguel soothes the bags under his eyes. Not a day had gone past that he had good dreams-- less so when he was in a proper bed with a woman. Not any woman, but his woman. You're dead asleep against his chest, his arm having long since gone numb. Still as beautiful as hours ago, blissed out and well fucked, the bruising on your face reminds him that he has shit to do.

There is little disrespect like the disrespect of a man molesting your love, the mother of your child. But you don’t want a body from him. So he would be gentle with this, unpeeling himself from your warmth and striding into town while the moon still howled in the sky, knowing where a useless scum bag like Aaron Delgado would be. He’d be drinking up, his liver fat and useless.

The saloon was still somehow rowdy, stuffed to the brim with men who sought relief from family life and women who knew the easiest way to make a buck off pretty lies. Popping into the saloon was stepping back into his usual life, one of little value other than the skills it gave him. Namely, his hand hooked around the gun.

“Hey handsome,” a maid cooed, trying to call his attention. But he’s not focused on the breasts in his face as he veered past, pushing through groups of standing men. He came up behind Aaron, who was dead asleep on the bar. It never failed that he looked sloppy, his booze soaking his ruffled shirt.

“What can I get you?” the barman said.

Miguel gripped Aaron’s collar and what little hair wasn’t balding, lifting and cracking the man’s head hard on the bar. Aaron may not have been awake before but he was sure now, blinking the stars out of his eyes.

“The hell!”

The sound of feet against the squeaky old floor marked the rush of steps out of the bar. Miguel kicked Aaron’s bar seat out from underneath him, sending him careening onto the floor with a heavy thump.

“Miguel?” he snapped, bright-eyed, eyes trained on Aaron. Aaron snapped his hand to his hip. Miguel leveled his gun at Aaron, threatening him to touch it, just try. Blood flowed free from Aaron’s nose. He pushed it away with the back of his hand, smug smile like he knew Miguel would show up.

“It is you. I knew you’d be around.”

That's him. Some stragglers, friends of Aaron’s no doubt, lurched forward. Miguel shot into the ground by Aaron’s hip as a warning. It burst into the floor with a booming pop. He had no qualms about making double murder a triple, quadruple if he had to. Aaron pushed himself onto one arm. Miguel’s foot connected with Aaron’s ribs, sending him soaring across the floor. He connected with an aged piano, a bundle of keys singing under the small man who stumbled past Aaron's poor, shitty friends.

“C’mon,” Aaron pushed himself up on his palms. "Kicking a man while he's down?"

“You didn't think twice about breaking in and hitting my woman."

Miguel knelt down, checking the urge to blow his face off, but not now. Not while you had a stake in this shit of a town. Aaron's face quivered, what little friends he had gossiping in and among one another, others slipping the fuck out. Aaron has nothing useful to say.

"You so much as think of touching my woman again and you won’t be so much as crawling out of here. The undertaker be putting you under, you hear?"

“Gimme a break. What I did was nothing compared to what you did to Lupe."

"Don't you fuckin' dare bring her up."

"I just touched on her. You killed my wife. She felt mighty nice, Miguel, bet you’re mighty proud--”

Miguel considers himself good up til that point, walloping the butt of his gun across Aaron’s face to force compliance. Once, twice, maybe three times. After the third, he lost the thin hold he had on his control. He just knows it's enough to where the bruises that formed on his face would make yours seem like gentle love taps. He beats the man bloody and slips out to the sound of calls for Sherriff Morales.

He never was good at handling disrespect.

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