#cot n balls writing

[tiptapricock]

KangTsung/Liushang headcannons? For mk1

YESSS yes yea yes yes ywa yeah yeH BABY

Send me some Mortal Kombat characters or ships for some nsfw headcanons!

———

Neither of them know how they end up there, actually

Like objectively, sure. Shang Tsung gets sent to infiltrate enemy lines via seduction and get on Liu Kang’s good side to more effectively cripple the Earthrealm defenses

He plays innocent, he acts interested, he makes all the right comments and leaves all the right lingering touches to make any man go wild

But Liu Kang… knows him. He knows who he was, who he shaped him to be. He knows he hates Shang Tsung with a burning passion, and yet…?

Could he have turned out differently? Could this timeline have been altered so drastically that Shang Tsung ended up on the good path all on his own? Liu Kang crafted others that way, like Mileena and Baraka and Sindel, but he hasn’t touched the fates of mortals since the universe began

So part of him, the part that is more well meaning, is curious

And the other part of him, the part of him that is lonely and craves the types of human intimacy he has long starved himself of, is… well.

If Shang Tsung is showing so much interest, it only makes sense that Liu Kang investigates by fucking him

It’s not like he could do much damage, right? He’s not powerful in magic as he was before, and here they are surrounded by warriors who would jump at the nearest chance to defend Liu Kang

And Shang Tsung is also… very good at working him up

His laugh, the spread of his long fingers on Liu Kang’s waist, the way his eyes flick over him as if he plans to devour

It is stupid, but it happens

Liu Kang invites him to talk in private, and takes things into his own hands

He is cautious at first, conversational, but he drops his own touches, lets his eyes burn across the table as he hands Shang Tsung tea

He gets up to talk about Earthrealm, to talk about his duties, and circles behind Shang Tsung to slowly push the hair away from his neck

And kneel down

And kiss the warmth of human skin for the first time in many centuries

Shang Tsung himself is caught off guard by the intimacy of it. He expected Liu Kang to be rushed and intense as many men past their breaking point would be, but he’s not

He is pressure and heat, a burning line of fingers dipping beneath Shang Tsung’s clothes, maneuvering him up and against the wall

A tongue and teeth, a back that glows as Shang Tsung rakes his nails across it, a divine buzz hanging in the air as they grind and palm each other through hanging layers of silk and cotton

Shang Tsung, for a few minutes, forgets his mission

It is odd to be treated like a holy thing, to have a god’s eyes fluttering closed as he strokes him slowly, to be pressed into a quiet moment of intimacy as if he belongs there

And it is exhilarating

They continue after that night. Shang Tsung offers himself, and Liu Kang accepts

They spend evening after evening tangled upon the sheets, foreheads pressed close as Liu Kang fills Shang Tsung in deep, steady thrusts, hands moving to cup his chest, his shoulders, his cheek

This is wrong, Liu Kang knows, this will only end in tragedy, but it is hard to stop

Shang Tsung peels back his layers, finds the soft wanting beneath, and tugs at it

He rests himself in Liu Kang’s throat and pets his hair gently, praising him for his heat and compliance, for the beauty of a body that does not need to breathe, and Liu Kang melts with it

It is a tumble into something neither of them can pull away from

Liu Kang finds a desire growing he cannot quell, a bleeding pool of connection he is finally able to sate, and Shang Tsung is… losing sight of why he was here at all

Liu Kang’s hips are firm when he guides Shang Tsung in training, pressing too close, lingering after practiced falls to keep him close to his chest and smirking when he feels Shang Tsung get hard

He makes Shang Tsung’s breath hitch with his smile and the sting of his teeth, his fingerprints flushed burns that mark Shang Tsung’s shoulders and ribs on the nights he loses himself too deeply

But he is kind. He is a lord that cares

Shang Tsung has never deserved that, or perhaps he has, and the world has stolen it from him

It’s ironic, he knows, to find gratification in the arms and cock of the man who wrote his destiny, but it’s hard to think that way when Liu Kang sinks down on him so fully, so deeply trusting, and makes him feel like the center of the world

On those nights, when he cannot stop thinking, Shang Tsung digs his nails into the curves of Liu Kang’s skin, pulling him close, his hips snapping up, his chest heaving, and tries desperately to hold on to the man he was sent to kill

[xxoxobree]

The Boy Is Mine

Miles Morales x Black Fem Spider-person Reader v Gwen Stacy.

Summary: He saved you and She didn’t want to and maybe she was right because the boy is now yours.

WARNINGS: Fighting, bad words, I think that’s it.

A/n: I was tied!!! Of seeing Miles cheat with Gwen so I took matters into my own hands. This is probably one of the best stories I’ve ever written too so don’t skip. I had so much fun writing this.

For the past 2 years, you've been the one and only Spider-woman. Everyone knows the story by now, bitten by a radioactive spider, and now you spend your time protecting the city. Everything was going great. Or that's what you wanted to believe as you fought Wilson Fisk, a person who is supposed to be behind bars. This Wilson was different - bigger, stronger, he was giving you a run for your money.

"What have they been feeding you at the Raft, Willie?" You quipped as you dodged a punch. "Haha, missed me," you said, landing a punch combo to his jaw.

"You stupid spiders are always in the way," he said, managing to catch you off guard, knocking you back. This fight is definitely gonna take a while.

"Who are you anyway, where's Spider-Man?" Fisk asked, walking menacingly toward you as you lay on the floor to catch a breath.

"I don't get paid enough for this," you said, getting up, squaring up with the large man.

Spider-Man, what are you talking about, Fisk?" You asked the man leaping backwards, dodging all of his hits.

"Enough of this talk, this ends now," Fisk said, running toward you. You charged back, your fist balled, about to strike, but he dodged and caught you by your throat.

"Another spider under my belt," Fisk said, laughing as he squeezed your throat. Gasping for air, you tried your best to break free from his grip, but your vision began to fade out. Your strength left you, and your eyes began to close. All you wanted to do was sleep, but you blinked your eyes again. Maybe you were hallucinating from the lack of oxygen, but a portal with glowing lights appeared, and two other spider personas flew forward, knocking Fisk out. You dropped to the floor, gasping for air, but still fainted in the process.

You probably weren't out for long, but you heard faint voices, a female and a male.

"What do we do, Gwen? We can't just leave her here."

"Miles, what are we supposed to do? We can't take her back to HQ."

You were too weak to actually open your eyes to see who was talking. Too weak to stop them from kidnapping you and taking you to wherever HQ was. You tried to let out a small groan, but it was useless.

"That's exactly what we need to do, Gwen. She needs medical care."

"Ughhh.... Fine, you grab her."

You heard footsteps move towards you, and your body being lifted before you succumbed to the darkness around you again.

✨HQ✨

Your bloodshot eyes shot open as you sat up, feeling around for your mask that wasn't on your face. You heard the fast-paced beeping of a heart monitor, letting you know your heart rate was up as you ripped all the pads off of you, standing ready to leave the room before two people came walking inside. You immediately got in defense mode as you studied them - an older man in a blue suit with a spider on the front, and a younger boy about your age in a black suit, also with a spider on the front.

"Where the fuck am I, and who are you?" you said, pointing.

"Welcome to HQ, Spiderwoman. I'm Spider-Man, and he's Spider-Man. Glad you survived. Miles, I'll leave you to it," the older man in the blue suit said, walking away.

Miles walked closer to you, setting off your spider senses. You closed one of your eyes, moving your head to the side, resting your hand on your head. "Don't come any closer," you said.

You're probably not used to that, but you're like me, it does that sometimes. I'm Miles.

"Yeah, I got that from earlier," you said, flopping back on the hospital cot, still very much in pain.

Miles wasn't in the room when they took off your mask, so this was the first time he saw your face. He scanned every detail of your face, taking in the way your plump lips formed into a natural pout, or maybe that was just because you were in pain. The way your brown eyes sparkled under the bright white light, he couldn't help but be captivated by your gaze. He loved your braids and the way your pink beads rattled every time you moved.

Miles felt something stir in the pit of his stomach the longer he looked at you. Maybe it was just gas from the spicy food he ate earlier, he thought, in denial of the growing attraction he felt for a stranger.

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me your name?" Miles finally mustered the courage to ask.

You turned to face him, the pain momentarily forgotten as you observed his silly smirk. You weren't usually the friendliest person, but there was something about Miles that felt different, something that made you want to open up.

"I'm Y/n," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Nice to meet you Y/n," Miles said, offering his hand. You looked at it. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm in too much pain right now," you said, causing both of you to laugh. There it was, that fluttering feeling in the pit of Miles' stomach again as he watched a beautiful smile grace your face.

"So, what is this place and why am I here?" you asked Miles, curiosity shining in your eyes. "This is the Spider Society. We brought you here because you were in bad shape from fighting Fisk," Miles explained. You coughed a bit. "Yup, he whooped my ass," you said, making both you and Miles burst into laughter again.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Gwen stood outside the door, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding inside. With each word you said to Miles, with each chuckle you elicited from him, the flames of jealousy ignited within her. Unable to bear it any longer, she burst into the room, startling both you and Miles.

"What the fuck? You didn't even have to do all that, shawty," You exclaimed. Miles stood up, a look of surprise on his face. "Gwen, this is Y/n, Spider-woman, the one we helped," he explained, pointing toward you.

"Oh, hi. I'm glad you're okay," Gwen said, her words laced with a hint of insincerity.

This your girl Miles ?" You asked.

"No, no." They both said in unison dragging their o's. It was obvious to you that there was more to the story by the way she busted into the room but that was none of your business.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Y/n. We should get going," Gwen said, gently tugging Miles towards the door.

Before leaving, Miles tossed you a watch that you effortlessly caught. "Maybe we can see each other again," he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. You smiled, watching him walk away.

"Hmmm," you hummed, examining the watch before clasping it onto your wrist. "Maybe we will, Spider-Man."

As Gwen and Miles made their way through the headquarters, Miles couldn't ignore Gwen's evident distress. He studied her face and body language.He called out to her, "Gwen?"

Getting no response, Miles tried a sing-songy voice, calling her name once more. "What, Miles?" she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"I know you're upset. Do you want to talk or not?" Miles asked, genuinely wanting to understand what was bothering her.

"Why don't you go talk to Y/n?"

"Gwen, are you serious? I barely know her, but she's a cool girl," Miles defended, trying to reassure her.

"Oh, she's cool now?" Gwen's tone dripped with sarcasm and doubt.

Miles gently reached for Gwen's hand, stopping her in her tracks, making her face him directly. "Look, Gwen, you don't have to worry about her, okay?" he said softly.

Gwen's expression softened, and she nodded, a flicker of trust returning to her eyes. "Alright, Miles. She said giving him a small punch to the shoulder.

✨The Mission✨

You were back in your dimension 2 days post fight with Fisk feeling good as new. You were in bed, examining the watch Miles gave you, when a hologram of a woman appeared, making you scream.

"Oh hey there new recruit, I'm Lyla," she said, waving.

"Hi... Lyla," you said slowly, waving back.

"Sorry to scare you, but the boss needs you at HQ, your first mission... Yayyyy, so suit up," she said before disappearing.

"Uh, okay," you said, slipping into your skintight suit and mask, slapping on your watch, struggling to find out how to get it to work because no one gave you a tutorial. But you managed using your genius brain and stepped through the portal, gracefully landing in a dark room with monitors.

"Great, you're here......Miles!" the man you were familiar with but never got his name called out.

From the shadows, Miles emerged with a smile on his face. "Good to see you again, Mamita," he said.

"Oh, we're using pet names now?" you said, matching his flirty energy.

"That's enough," Miguel said as he stood before you two. "Anomaly in Earth 746, catch it."

"Anomaly?" you questioned.

"I'll tell you all about it later," Miles said, grabbing your hand, opening a portal, and pulling you through.

You dusted off your hands. The mission went well, a little too well, especially for a Goblin mission.

"You're pretty good, Miles."

"You too, Mamita. Gotta say, I doubted you a little after the Fisk fight," he teased.

"Oh, whatever," you said, rolling your eyes, chuckling a bit.

You moved closer to Miles, mere inches between you two, as you ran your fingers along his jawline.

Miles' breath hitched as you touched him, his hazel eyes expressing the tension between you two. There was no denying that Miles was handsome, and you were eager to learn more about him.

"So what dimension are you from, Papa?" you asked playfully, a flirtatious smile gracing your lips.

"1610. Maybe we could go there?" Miles responded, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Take a girl on a date first, Miles," you laughed, teasing him gently.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Miles stammered, trying to explain himself.

"I would love to see your dimension, Miles," you interrupted, cutting him off.

And so, Miles took you to his dimension.

"This is Brooklyn." Miles said as you two stood atop the Williamsburg Bank building, you marveled at the city below. It was similar to your own home, yet distinctly different. Miles watched in awe as your eyes sparkled at the city, feeling a flutter in his stomach.

"It's beautiful, Miles," you whispered, taking a seat to soak in the view.

He walked forward and sat beside you, his face beaming with joy. You turned towards him, a warm smile on your lips.

"So, what's your story, big head?" you asked, playfully leaning on him.

"My story?" Miles responded, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"You're Spider-Man, Miles. What's your origin?" you asked , curious him.

"You know, regular Spider-Man stuff. I gained my powers and now I fight bad guys," Miles answered, a humble tone in his voice.

"That's not what I meant," you said, giving him a small shove. "What's the real story? I was bitten by a radioactive spider too, two years ago on a field trip to Oscorp. Your world doesn't seem to have Oscorp." You sighed, frustration and sadness mixing in your voice. "I got these crazy powers that I didn't know what to do with, so I decided to keep them a secret and pretend that I was a regular kid."

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as you choked up, memories flooding back. Miles noticed your distress and perked up. "It's okay, you don't have to share if you don't want to," he said, trying to comfort you.

But something compelled you to open up, to let go of the burden you had been carrying alone for so long. You rested your hand gently on top of his. "I pretended to be some regular kid, and that led to me losing my mom. And from then on, I decided to help everyone else," you finished.

Miles's heart stung as he listened to your story. "I lost someone close to me too, my uncle Aaron. He was shot saving me," he shared, the pain evident in his voice.

A sense of understanding and connection washed over you both. You leaned your head on his shoulder. "See, that's your story, Papa," you said softly, appreciating the bond that formed between you. "You know, Miles, it's so nice to have someone to talk about this stuff with now," you added, gazing at the sun setting on the horizon.

That moment solidified your blooming relationship with Miles. Whenever you had free time, you would pop into his dimension, and vice versa. Now, in your suit, you found yourself in dimension 1610, patiently waiting for Miles to catch up as you swung through the bustling city.

"Keep up, Miles," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you effortlessly jumped from building to building, landing with grace. The two of you were headed back to his house, where Jeff and Rio, his parents, adored you and had grown fond to your presence after all the time you spent with Miles.

They couldn't wrap their head around the whole different dimension thing and just assumed Miles' imagination had run wild. You two walked through his front door.

"Hey Mama Rio," you greeted Miles' mom.

"Hey Mija."

"Hey Mom," Miles said, hugging his mom before the two of you walked into his room. You two were too caught up in conversation to notice a guest. Gwen. She cleared her throat, making you two snap your attention towards her.

"Gwen, hey," Miles said nervously. "What are you - what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you because I barely see you anymore, but now I know why," Gwen answered.

You snickered a bit, knowing you essentially snatched Miles from Gwen.

"Oh, that's funny?" Gwen asked.

You threw your hands up in surrender, not wanting to get into it with her.

"We were about to watch a movie, order some pizza. You can stay if you want," Miles offered to pacify Gwen, but he was hoping she'd turn it down. He cherished his alone time with you.

"No, it's fine, Miles. I'll leave," Gwen said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Uh, okay. Bye," Miles said

"Bye, Gwendolyn," you added, unable to hide the small smirk on your face.

Gwen turned to you and asked, "You know what, can we talk outside, Y/n?"

Rolling your eyes, you agreed, "Sure, why not?" You grabbed Miles' hand, signaling for him to come along.

"Alone," Gwen insisted, her tone unwavering.

"Okay... I'll be back, papa," you said to Miles, giving him a smile and a pat on the cheek.

As you followed Gwen out of the window and onto the roof, you could feel the tension building up. Once you reached a secluded corner, she turned to face you, arms folded.

"What is your problem?" she asked, her voice filled with accusation.

"Girl, what are you talking about?" you answered defensively.

"Miles," she replied, her tone laced with frustration.

"What about him? He's fine, great even," you said, walking closer to her.

"Don't play dumb, Y/n," Gwen snapped.

"What are you getting at, Gwen?" you said, your tone becoming pointed as you grew tired of the conversation.

"He's mine, Y/n, and you're trying to steal him away," her voice filled with possessiveness.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Yours?" you asked, shaking your head. "Gwen, you lost him the day you two saved me."

As the words left your mouth, the truth hung heavy in the air. Gwen had been holding onto her feelings for Miles while pretending everything was okay. But deep down, she knew that the connection between you and Miles was undeniable.

What you didn't see coming was a slap across your face from Gwen, not thinking she was bold enough to do it. The sting of her actions lingered in the air as shock resonated through your entire being. And what Gwen didn't see was Miles, camouflaged and watching you two from a distance. He didn't hear anything you two talked about, but he sure did see the slap.

As the pain subsided, you didn't retaliate. Deep down, you and Gwen both knew that you had won this battle, that Miles was now dedicated to you.

"Why would you do that, Gwen?" You heard a voice behind you, and turned to see Miles standing there, his eyes filled with disappointment.

You watched in satisfaction as Gwen's eyes widened, realizing that she had not only hurt you but also jeopardized her chances with Miles. She had unknowingly made it even easier for you to snatch his affection away from her.

"Miles, I..." Gwen stammered, unable to find the right words to justify her actions.

"Why would you hit her?" Miles asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt.

"You didn't hear what she said, Miles. She's trying to tear us apart. You were mine," Gwen spewed out, desperately clinging to her fading hopes.

"Yours? I'm not some object, Gwen," Miles retorted, his voice laced with disappointment. "Is that why you brought her outside? To hit her?"

A heavy silence hung in the air as Gwen struggled to find an explanation, her words failing her. The truth had been laid bare, and Miles saw her for who she truly was.

"Save it, Gwen," Miles said, his voice firm. "You just showed me the type of person you really are. I've been pining after you for months, and you always brushed me off. But now, now I have someone who actually likes me back."

With those words, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

You looked at Gwen, a smug look on your face as you squeezed Miles' hand tighter.

"You don't mean that, Miles."Gwen said.

"Yes, I do," Miles turned to you. "She likes me back, and she's the most caring, sweetest, funniest person in this dimension and every other," Miles said, making you tear up a bit, your lip bottom poking out.

"You're so cute when you do that," Miles said.

Gwen watched as her heart slowly broke. She had played with Miles,but now she had lost the game. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She should be the one he said all those things to. The tears pricked her eyes.

"Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?" The words echoed in Gwen's head, the final blow that made her tears roll down her face.

"Of course, I will, papa," you said, jumping on Miles and giving him a tight hug before pulling back and giving him a big kiss, your first one in front of his former crush.

You and Miles turned to Gwen, watching as she continued to cry.

"You should go, Gwen," you said, your heart aching a bit for the girl, but not a lot.

Miles grabbed your hand as the two of you walked off toward the stairwell, leaving Gwen behind.

[georgeclarkesgf]

Hiiiiii ❤️❤️

Would you be up for writing any George Clarke fics about labour or birth???

here you go lovely <3

if you had to describe your labour in three words they would be long, painful and frustrating.

baby girl clarkey had clearly found your uterus an enjoyable place to live the past nine months. you were nine days overdue when your water broke and throughout labour, she seemed to be refusing to descend. in an attempt to lessen the pain and quicken the process, the midwife recommended a birthing ball. you nodded, hoping gravity would do its job. you were also grateful for anything that would provide you with some relief. george carefully guided you to sit on the ball since he wanted to be useful in any way he could. a tired smile was thrown his way and he felt like crying seeing how much pain you were in.

"i'm so incredibly proud of you my love. it won't be long till we get to meet our babygirl," he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and moves behind you to redo your hair, "i hope she looks like you."

"why?" you questioned, sensing the start of yet another contraction.

"cause you're beautiful."

"you're so cheesy." george's jaw dropped, pretending to be offended.

he started massaging your back as you concentrated on breathing through another contraction. the midwife kept checking your progress and her heartbeat and after what seemed like days, she finally said the words you were so excited and yet so scared to hear.

"alright y/n, it's time to push. let's have this baby." you turned to look at george, a terrified expression on your face.

"baby, you can do this. everyone knows it." he gave you a reassuring smile.

the midwife and george went to help you up off the ball to the bed before you stopped them, "wait, i want george there. on the bed i mean. behind me."

in a matter of seconds, he was on the bed after getting the midwife's nod of approval and removing his shoes and jumper. before the need to push hit, you got comfortable, laying against george's chest. screaming, crying, and lots of encouraging words filled the next few minutes. you gripped george's hands tightly as each contraction came and pushed hard until the sound you had been waiting months to hear filled the room.

your beautiful baby girl's cry.

she was placed on your chest, and a rush of overwhelming love and relief flooded over you. tears filled your eyes as you took in every detail of her. her tiny fingers and toes. her nose which she definitely got from you. everything about her was perfect. george, who was also crying, kissed your shoulder and stroked his baby girl's cheek.

"she's so perfect," he whispered, "i'm so, so, so proud of you. i love you."

BONUS

(i was gonna just end it there but i wanted to include telling the boys so have this)

you were in love with her, and both of you were enjoying and starting to adjust to life as a family of three, even if it had only been a few hours. labour had exhausted you but you seemed too overwhelmed with emotions to be able to sleep. you also hadn't had time to since both your families had arrived, wanting to meet the newest addition and check up on you both.

"george?" he hummed in acknowledgment, still enamored with his baby girl.

"you wanna facetime chris and them lot?" his head popped up at the question, moving from the side of the cot to sit by you on the bed.

"you sure? i don't want it to be too much. and i was quite enjoying our baby bubble." he brushed a piece of hair from your face, scanning your face for any sort of hesitance.

"me too," you agreed, "but i think they'll notice something's off when you don't go to the flat to watch the match tonight."

"well, i was still gonna go," he had a cheeky smirk on his face, watching for your reaction, to which you raise your eyebrows, "i'm joking. yea okay, let's facetime them."

george grabbed his phone and face timed chris, knowing the rest of the group will already be there for the match. the phone rang for a few seconds before he answered.

"alright mate?" chris asked, before realising george wasn't on his way like he thought he would be, "where are you? we're all waiting for you."

"uh, i actually won't make it tonight. something's come up. who's there anyway?" shouts of disappointment came from the other end of the phone and you couldn't help but quietly laugh.

"literally everyone. mr television, mr hill, chip, will, cal. you know the rest, do i have to name everyone? it's the boys." george cringed at that, knowing chris only says it to wind him up.

"chris, just shut up. can you put the phone somewhere please, i need everyone to be able to see me," you both watched as the phone was placed on the table and everyone filtered into shot one by one, "also, can someone please record this on their camera if they have it with them?"

you grabbed george's hand, knowing he was nervous, and nodded at him as though to ask if he was ready since you could hear some of the boys asking what was going on. he passed the phone to you, earning more looks of confusion before chip spoke up.

"y/n, we love you but what's with the teasing. we have a game to watch." you rolled your eyes, feeling the bed dip from george having just brought over your baby girl.

you couldn't contain your smile, "we have a surprise." you turned the camera to george, who was cradling your daughter in his arms.

the other end of the phone was silent for a few moments before they erupted into cheers.

"will, you owe me fifty quid." cal cheered, turning to him with a hand out expectantly.

"hang on a minute, you guys were betting on when i'd give birth?" you gasped as they all nodded their heads.

"you were nine days past your due date y/n. it was only a matter of time." will confirmed, handing cal his money.

"congratulations though guys, she's gorgeous. does she have a name yet?" arthur tv asked, as they all quieted down waiting.

you glanced at george, who nodded, knowing you had your heart set on a name, "yea. this is isla."

questions came one after the other from the boys, but george knew you were tired and isla needed to be fed. dad mode was evidently activated.

"guys calm down. we'll answer the questions when we see you but for now, you have a match to watch and we have a baby to feed. we just wanted you to know she was here." you all said goodbye to each other before the call ended, allowing you to go back to your own little bubble.

"we did it." you whispered, staring at the tiny little girl who somehow looked even smaller in george's arms.

"we did."

[thursdaygxrls]

Hi!!

I saw you ask so….

Do you think you could do a George Weasley x male reader who has a fainting condition or got a quidditch injury?

If you’re comfortable obviously,

Or if not even headcannons on dating George?

Thank you ! <3

quidditch george literally has me drooling and sweating 🤭🤭 also, i’ve never done a male reader before, so i apologize if it’s weird. i wanna get more into writing for gender neutral and male readers tho — also i’m still doing the dating george headcanons, i’m just gonna do a separate post for those

Blood & Quaffles

summary — ever catch a bludger to the face? now you have.

pairing — george weasley x male!reader

disclaimer — i do not own harry potter/the characters or the gif

warnings — blood, quidditch incident, as always i didn’t edit

Quidditch practice with Fred and George Weasley was more in line with a mythological fight than a friendly competition. It didn’t matter that the game wasn’t real, and that their opponents were on the same team as them; they were ruthless. And, unfortunately for George’s boyfriend, he’d been put against them.

“Merlin’s sake, Fred!” Ron shouted as a bludger whizzed past his head. As he ducked out of the way, it gave the perfect opening for Katie Bell to smack the quaffle through the highest post.

“Keep your eyes on the ball, Ron,” Fred yelled back, a wide smile adorning his lips.

“Try not to knock our heads off, would you?” (Y/n) groaned. He flew back to the center of the pitch as the team reset their positions. When the quaffle was tossed, he was able to get an immediate grip on it. He soared across the sky with the ball under his arm, dodging the opposing Chasers as well as Fred and George's attacks. That was until he was met in the face with a bludger.

It came from nowhere (actually, it came from Andrew Kirke, who was on the same team and trying to knock out a Chaser who was on (Y/N)'s tail). A whistle was blown from somewhere in the distance, but he'd already fallen from his broom and was barreling towards the ground. The words "aresto momentum" filled his ears, and right before he smacked the ground, he stopped, floating in mid-air for a moment, then hit the grass with a thud.

"Bloody hell, mate," Fred swooped to the ground beside him, "You aren't supposed to fall off your broom."

"Thanks for the advice," he scoffed, clutching his face. Blood trickled down his nose, and the throbbing of a fresh bruise stung between his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Andrew landed on the grass, his face filled with fear, "I was trying to get Katie, not you, and I didn't mean to hit it that hard-"

"S'alright." He waved Andrew off, pulling himself up into a seated position. He let out a grunt as the pain washed over him. Before he could move any further, George was at his side, his face both utterly concerned and guiltily amused.

"Up with you," he said, placing his arms under his arms, "Let's get you to Pomfrey."

"I'm fine," (Y/N) protested, but another gush of fresh blood shut him up almost immediately. He could hear Andrew's voice behind him, shouting out remorseful apologies. They continued to walk along the pitch, George waving off the team members as they swarmed the two with concerned faces.

"We're just headed to the hospital wing, not the morgue," he announced, holding the boy under his arm a little tighter.

"Hey, you alright there?" George's voice was soft when the finally made it off the pitch, his eyes soft as he looked at his boyfriend.

"I'll survive," he responded, holding his head up as he pinched his nose. George nodded, rubbing soothing circles on his back. A small grin lit up on his face.

"Y'know, you look kind of hot with all that blood on your face," he chuckled.

"Sod off." (Y/N) rolled his eyes in return, though, a small smile lit up on his face.

When they'd finally made it to the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey rushed to them, taking (Y/N) from his arms and to a cot. As she fussed over him, groaning and complaining about how "horrifically dangerous" quidditch was, George silently watched from a few feet away. Luckily for him, she hadn't noticed he was still there, so he was able to watch without being kicked out.

"Is his face going to be permanently damaged? I can't have that," George spoke up, unable to contain his quips.

"Out with you, Mr. Weasley, get back to practice," Pomfrey replied distractedly, her attention focused on the injured boy in the cot below her.

"Keep that handsome nose intact for me," George laughed as he moved towards the exit of the wing. Though (Y/N) let out another exasperated groan, he couldn't help but grin -- even if George was a git.

a/n — i never use y/n but i tried it out w this one and i really don’t know how i feel abt it

[quillsandcauldroncakes]

I Found You (Bucky Barnes X Rogers!Reader)

Words: 4.1k

Warnings/Themes: Angst! Character death, abduction, torture, human experimentation, allusions to PTSD, depression, thoughts of wanting to be unalived

Characters/Pairings: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter (Mentioned), Howling Commandos (Mentioned)

misspygmypie asked:

Hello 🥰 I saw your request post and figured I'd send something in. I've had this idea for years, and it would be fun to read it!

You know when Steve finds and rescues Bucky at Hydra in the first movie? What if it's reader who they're rescuing and Hydra did some experiments on. Maybe she's Steves sister and they wanted to get to him through her and obviously Bucky has a thing for her lol 🥰

A/N: Sincerest apologies for taking so long to get this up. I've been taking on extra duties at work since my partner got fired and things have been super crazy since it's end of quarter. it also hasn't been the best for my mental health, so writing had been a struggle. probably why this ended up being so dang angsty. Sorry. Adulting seriously sucks. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Rain pattered gently on the canvas walls of the medical tent, while boots splashed noisily in the mud it created. Outside of the tent, she could hear the daily drills going on, soldiers training, and officers shouting commands. Her own fellow nurses milled about the tent, tending to wounded soldiers or doing other daily chores. It was a quiet day for the 107th Infantry Regiment.

“Alright, Private Richards, try not to go sticking your hand into random holes again. I doubt the next rabbit will be so kind.” Nimble fingers began tidying up the bloodied cotton balls and gauze used to clean and wrap the boy’s hand. 18 years old, you would think he’d know better than to stick his hand in holes in the ground.

“Yes, First Lieutenant, ma’am…” The boy grabbed his jacket and sulked out of the med tent. She laughed to herself as she watched him go. Knowing him, he’d be back soon enough. Not unlike his Sergeant, who wandered in a few moments later, a lazy smirk on his lips.

James Buchanan Barnes. Or as she’s known for most of her life, Bucky. The charming Sergeant was her older brother’s best friend, having been around since she was small. They were all thick as thieves, hardly seen without one of the others.

It may or may not have been a blessing to constantly have Bucky around. He was kind, funny, and took good care of her and her brother. However, other boys and men didn’t seem too eager to get to know her with him hanging at her shoulder. It’s even worse now with Steve being triple the size he was a year ago.

Occasionally, a brave soul will strike up the nerve to enter the medical tent and ask her out to the nearest town for a drink and a dance. But Bucky had uncanny timing. He always popped up just as she was about to answer.

“Now, a pretty face like that shouldn’t look so angry.” A voice sounded in her ear. A startled gasp escaped her and her hands fumbled the tools she had been organizing. Bucky caught a pair of forceps before they could hit the floor.

“James! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She admonished him with a firm smack on the shoulder. He chuckled and rubbed the sore spot.

“Ow, careful there, doll. Gonna take my arm off with that strength.”

“Oh please, it’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of you.” She spun out of his reach when he tried to grab her arm. A small smile graced her lips as she made a final spin to face him. “Did you need something, Bucky?”

“What, I can’t come see my best girl just because I want to?

 “I know your troop is supposed to be running the course right now, so no you can’t just come see me because you want to,” she said while gesturing for him to sit on the cot in the corner or her station. “Now, what mess did you get yourself into to be sent here?”

“You know me so well, Darlin’,” he whispered wistfully, smiling up at her with those big blues. He wore a dopey smile as he presented his cut left hand. She pursed her lips and tried to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. Damn him.

Stepping closer, she took his calloused hand into her softer one and observed the cut. It wasn’t too deep but still needed to be cleaned and dressed.

“What happened?” She remained in between his legs as she prepped some alcohol and gauze. His right hand toyed with the fabric of her skirt. With a narrowed look, she smacked the back of it.

“Just a climbing exercise; a nail was sticking out of the wall and caught my hand.” His voice was hushed as she worked. She hummed and began cleaning the wound. He hissed and jerked his hand back. With eyes rolling, the nurse grabbed his hand more firmly.

“You big baby.”

“Your big baby.” She smacked his arm again.

<><>

Gunshots fired all around her, men shouting and screaming. Some in pain, some as a battle cry. But all she could think about was how gentle Bucky’s hands had been in hers. And how much she wished it was his hands on her right now.

But larger, rougher hands now tore at her. Pushing and pulling. She screamed from behind her gag and her hands strained against the restraints. Black boots kicked out at her captors as she fought like a feral cat. She twisted this way and that, anything to loosen their grip on her. But against four burly men, she didn’t stand a chance.

She guessed they had gotten tired of her struggling because a blunt weapon struck the back of her head and she fell limp to the ground.

It was cold. Colder than she had ever been. The air was damp, making the ache in her lungs worse. Blurry eyes peeled open. The room she sat in was dark, only a green-tinted light on the other side of the room illuminated the space. Its murky light cast deep shadows around the room that seemed to move. Her head lolled to the side as one shadow moved closer.

Ah, not shadows. Men. Hydra.

“Good evening, Miss Rogers.” His voice was heavily accented and polite. Nothing like what you’d imagine a torturer or murderer to sound like. “I am honored to have Captain America’s sister as my guest.”

She groaned. The gag was no longer wrapped around her mouth, but her tongue felt like lead. Thoughts struggled to focus and grasp what this man was saying.

“Such a shame, a First Lieutenant, Chief Nurse, so much promise in your future. But because of your brother, you’ll never get to meet that future. We have another one much better suited for you.”

His words floated through her mind but didn’t stick. She was a nurse… She helps people. Why was she here? There were soldiers at camp that needed her. Bucky needed her…

“..ucky…” She slurred, drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Her bones felt heavier than lead and her muscles were like the slop served at breakfast. The shadows at the edge of her vision danced ever closer.

“Don’t worry, my dear, you’ll forget the pain soon.”

<><> 

Bucky tore through the camp, Steve hot on his heels. His blue eyes roved over the multitude of bodies and injured, searching for that familiar head of hair. Always done up so prettily. Like last week when she was bandaging up his hand. Her nails were painted red, and her hair was twisted up into a flawless bun. Her red-painted lips smiled warmly at him. Fear gripped his heart at the idea that he would never see that smile again.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve clamped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, forcing the Sergeant to a stop. It wouldn’t do his sister any good if they lost their heads. As much as he wanted to tear the whole world apart until his sister was safe, he knew that reckless actions could get her killed. If she wasn’t dead already…

“She’s – she’s gone, Steve. Where is she!?” Bucky spun to face Steve, his eyes wide and slightly crazed. He can’t lose her. He never got to take her on a date. Never got to hold her close and confess how deeply and fervently he love her. Bucky bit down on his lip to stop its wobble. He can’t cry, not yet. Not while there’s still a possibility she’s out there.

“I know. I know, Buck. We’ll get her back. No matter what.”

Footsteps rushed up to the pair. A soldier stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath. “A-a letter for you, sir. It-it has the hydra insignia.”

Upon reading the contents, Steve and Bucky took off to Colonel Phillips' tent. The older man sat at a desk, signing letters to the families of the deceased and missing. Steve hardly gave the man time to put his pen down before requesting a team to rescue the captured. He decided to leave out the fact that he was only doing this to get his sister back.

“I understand the heroic need to save the day, but those who have been taken prisoner are far behind enemy lines and we don’t have the manpower or resources to conduct a rescue mission.” Phillips’ response was expected, but it didn’t stop Bucky’s jaw from clenching or his hands from balling into fists.

The Colonel looked at the two young men standing in front of him. He knew exactly why they wanted to go. Only a fool would think that Captain America wouldn’t move heaven and earth for the younger Rogers. An even bigger fool wouldn’t see the lovesick look every time James Barnes was near her, or the way his gaze follows her as she walks across the base.

Phillips sighed heavily, digging through a stack of letters yet to be signed. First Lieutenant Y/N Rogers. MIA.

Steve took the letter with shaking hands. Bucky felt a tear roll down his cheek.

They were dismissed and the two trudged away. A silent look was exchanged and they agreed. They would go after her with or without permission.

<><> 

“…name… Rogers…” Chapped lips mumbled her name over and over again. A tired mind determined to hold on to herself. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. “…Y/N… Rogers…”

“Y/N?” A voice hissed.

“Y/N/N?” A different voice, closer this time.

“Steve! She’s here!” The buckles around her wrists and ankles fell off one by one. Warm, calloused hands that she dreamed about cupped her face. She groaned and willed the fog from her brain. These hands. Bucky’s hands.

“Buck…” She croaked, red lipstick smudged, and once pristine hair hanging limply around her face. His smile brightened the shadows in her vision. Steve had joined them and helped her sit up.

“Hey, doll. What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” Giving her a watery smile, he pushed the hair from her face. The cheap line earned him a weak chuckle.

“Oh, what any girl does in a place like this,” she responded. Together, the two men helped her to her feet. The room pitched suddenly, her legs giving out under her. Whatever they had given her made her legs weak.

“Guess you make me a little weak in the knees,” she joked as Bucky swept her into his arms. She tucked her head into his neck, leaning heavily into him. Steve carefully led the way out, checking around corners and taking out any enemy soldiers that they crossed paths with.

Eventually, the trio made it out of the now-burning building. A mass of freed soldiers met them and together the company fought their way back to their camp. Bucky cradled her close to his chest the entire time. He stuck close to Steve, letting him take the punches. Steve didn’t mind.

For almost two weeks she was laid up in a cot in the medical tent. It was strange, in the years that she had been an army nurse, she had been the one giving care. She had never been the patient. And the patient of her subordinates, no less.

Her closer friends teased her that she was a horrible patient. Their teasing helped ease the residual anxiety and adrenaline from her ordeal. But what had really helped, was Bucky’s constant presence. During meal time and recreation time, he would come to visit her in the medical tent. Steve would drop by as well, but it was mostly Bucky.

As the days passed, Bucky seemed more and more nervous, however. Like he had something to say, just on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes, when he maybe thought she wasn’t looking, she caught him looking guilty. She hoped beyond hope that he didn’t blame himself for what had happened.

“You’re cleared to return to light duty, First Lieutenant,” Second Lieutenant Fredricks said with a smile.

The first few days of light duty were spent organizing and assisting. Then after a week, she was cleared to begin training again. Nurses didn’t necessarily need to do the drills the men did, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t. She also preferred to stay in shape and to keep her skills from going rusty.

Growing up with her brother being bullied, Y/N learned how to defend not only herself but Steve, as well. The elder Rogers sibling didn’t care for her fighting but he did appreciate that in a pinch, she could defend herself.

In the early morning, dressed in a pair of trousers and a simple shirt, Y/N makes her way to the track. A run should be light enough.

She could make out the tall frames of Steve and Bucky amongst the other men getting ready for their morning run. Bucky smiled as she approached.

“Hey, how’s it going? You sure you’re okay to be running?” Bucky brushed his hand over hers when she stopped in front of him. The touch made her stomach flutter but she smiled confidently at him.

“Actually, I’ve never felt better. I’m tired of being cooped up in the med tent for so long.” She bent to tighten her boots’ laces. Bucky shrugged and patted her shoulder, teasingly telling her to not fall behind. She scoffed and took off after the troops in a light jog.

Steve and Bucky kept pace with her, both worrying she might become too tired and collapse. Their hovering and not-so-subtle glances did not go unnoticed by her. Irritation settled quickly in her bones. She wasn’t some fragile flower. Just because something bad happened to her doesn’t mean she going to break at any moment.

Spurred by anger, her legs moved faster on their own accord. Steve glanced at his best friend as they sped up to match. Soon, the three of them were overtaking the other troops. Bucky was breathing heavily as they passed the frontman, now in a full sprint.

“W-wait!” He panted as the two Rogers siblings were now racing down the path. How was she running that fast!? How wasn’t she tired? Her smaller frame broke past Steve, who was now struggling to keep up.

The younger Rogers didn’t even notice the concerned and shocked looks she was receiving. The wind rushing in her ears and the trees blurring in her vision was all she could focus on. She felt like she was flying; her feet barely touching the ground. She felt free.

She burst into the clearing at the end of their running trail, the morning sun warming her wind-chilled skin. The grass kicked up as she skidded to a halt. A laugh erupted from her, her head light with adrenaline and awe. Then reality sunk in.

Bucky and Steve broke through the tree line a few minutes later.

“Y/N!”

She turned to look at them, her brows scrunched together and lips forming a thin line.

“They did this to me…” She murmured, gazing turning down at her clenched fists. She had thought she was feeling so good because she survived Hydra’s torment. How quickly this revelation brought her down. They poked and prodded, injected, and dissected. They had changed her.

“Doll?” Bucky approached her slowly, hands out in front of him. Seeing her lip wobble had his heart shattering in him. Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, drowning her sobs in the rough fabric of his shirt. Her brother stood beside them, rubbing his hand over her shoulders.

“I’ve got ya, sweets. I got ya,” Bucky muttered into her hair. “We’re gonna figure this out. It’ll be okay.”

Lord, he hoped he was telling the truth.

<><> 

Months went by as she adjusted to her new abilities. After she discovered her inhuman speed, she quickly learned she was inhumanly strong. Not as strong as her brother, but definitely stronger than any other man in the camp.

She began training with the men, easily laying anyone flat during sparring. Even Steve struggled against her. While he surpassed her in strength, she made it up in speed and agility. She had been given the moniker of Lady Liberty once the higher-ups found out.

But despite the usefulness of these abilities. She couldn’t help but feel violated. Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of their cold instruments and icy laughter. More than once she ended up in the clearing from months before.

Each time she made it out there, Bucky wasn’t far behind. He held her as he had back then, whispering comforting words and stroking her hair. This night began no differently than the others. They sat in the middle of the clearing, the half-moon illuminated above their heads.

“I’m sorry, Bucky… You don’t have to come out here with me every night.” She sniffled, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She was settled in between his stretched-out legs, her own draped over one of his thighs. He shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t mind, Doll. Really.” Soft lips pressed against her temple. “Unless you tell me to go, I won’t leave your side. I can’t.”

Shining eyes looked up into his baby blues. She had never felt so safe and protected as she did in Bucky’s arms. Even though she could easily kick his butt in a fight, she knew he would fight tooth and nail for her. And she would burn down the world for him.

There was no doubt in her mind as she pressed her lips to his. He sighed against her as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer by the waist. Everything clicked into place with this kiss. They had been dancing around this thing between them for years, neither willing to take the leap and possibly lose what they already had.

But the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her on his tongue had him bitterly regretting not doing this sooner. How many kisses could they have had? How many dates and late nights have they missed? He sure had a lot of time to make up.

“I love you, Y/N.” His breath fanned across the skin of her neck as his kiss-swollen lips brushed along it.

“I love you, James.”

<><> 

Over the next two years, the Howling Commandos slowly but surely made their way through the Hydra bases. First Lieutenant Rogers led alongside her brother, Captain Rogers. Not only as extra muscle, but as a nurse, and occasionally, spy. Bucky didn’t like the idea of his girl being ogled by slimy nazi men, but she convinced him that no one would expect a woman to be a super soldier.

She would infiltrate their meetings as a piece of eye candy, acquiring information as needed and then arresting the men as she saw fit.

But this particular mission didn’t require revealing dresses or sultry makeup. Rather, she wore a winter coat and combat boot with reinforced soles. The speed that she ran quickly ate through nearly all of her shoes.

The Commandos were all situated on a cliff overlooking another with a set of train tracks. They were waiting on the train carrying Doctor Zola. Glove-covered hands clenched at her side. Doctor Zola. One of the men who had turned her into this. Turned her into a weapon.

Bucky’s heavy hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her to his side. His soft lips brushed against her temple.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured. “We go in, kick some ass, and then get out. Easy.”

She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his waiting lips. The other men had the decency to look away from the couple.

“Alright, lovebirds, let’s get a move on.” Steve’s voice called out from the edge of the cliff.

She scoffed at her brother and kissed her sergeant once more. “See you on the other side, tiger.”

<><> 

Things were going south very quickly. Hydra had more gun power than she had thought. A huge man with bigger guns than himself stood in the doorway to their car. His guns glowed blue as they powered up.

Steve shoved both his sister and Bucky behind him, holding up his shield. The blast had her teeth rattling in her skull, her body flying back further than the boys. The impact of her head hitting the metal floor caused stars to dance in her vision.

She could barely comprehend the cold rush of air from the massive hole in the side of the train. And before she could gather herself, the man was priming another shot, pointed directly at her. Shaking legs tried to bare her weight as she scrambled for her gun.

Bucky had gathered himself faster than her or her brother, so she could only watch as he picked up Steve’s shield and fired a few shots at the enemy. A scream ripped from her throat when blue light shot out at her sergeant.

Bucky went flying, the shield in the other direction. Both the Rogers siblings jumped into action. Steve went for the shield, quickly taking out the other man. She leaped for the hole in the wall of the train that Bucky had flown out of.

Her eyes widened with horror as she gazed upon the man she loved, hanging on for dear life to the crumbling handrails.

“Bucky! Hold on!” She reached out to him, trying to find her footing to get to him and pull him to safety. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen on him before. Blue eyes wide with fear, his mouth poised in a silent scream. And as his fingers brushed against hers, tips barely able to curl around each other, he was gone.

His scream was joined by hers. The image of him falling to his death will forever be ingrained in her mind. It’ll be the last thing on her mind as she goes to sleep and the first one when she wakes up. It’ll be there when she fights her way through Hydra soldiers, and as she sends her fist straight into Johann Schmidt’s ugly, red face.

Steve worried about his sister’s mental health since that day. She had retreated into herself. Long gone was the witty and strong woman he knew. His sister, who had always been so bright, had been replaced by someone who only knew how to fight.

She only spoke to give orders or to communicate during battle. Her words were always clipped and to the point; no room for banter or sarcasm. The icy wall she had built around herself was all to conceal the torment her mind tortured her with.

If only she had been stronger, maybe she wouldn’t have been down for so long. If she had been faster, she could have reached him before he fell. If she had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have died. Every moment was filled with these thoughts. Awake or not. It was all she could think about.

Eventually, she became too tired. She fought with everything she had; Bucky at least deserved that. She wouldn’t give up simply because it would mean he died in vain. However, with each new opponent, she could help but wish that this one would be stronger than her.

No opponent was ever stronger than her. Until now.

It wasn’t a person that she now faced her death with. But a plane filled with explosives. Schmidt was gone, as was the Tesseract. Now, she and her brother faced the cracked windows of the plane. She tried to keep her lip from trembling as Steve spoke with Peggy.

Even if she hadn’t gotten her happy ending, she had wished her big brother would have gotten his. Tear-filled eyes opened when she felt a hand come to rest on hers. Steve’s face was solemn as he spoke.

“I’ve gotta put it in the water.” He was half telling Peggy and half asking for permission from his sister. It wasn’t just his life going down for millions of others, but his little sister’s, too. The siblings shared a weighty look before she nodded.

Lady Liberty listened quietly as Captain America spoke with Agent Carter. No.

Y/N listened brokenheartedly as her big brother said his goodbyes to the woman he loved and who loved him in return.

And as Steve redirected the plane to the icy terrain below, she closed her eyes and imagined the warm hands of her love. His blue fire eyes and easy grin. The feel of his lips against hers. The sound of her name on his tongue.

I’m coming, Bucky.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Wolves At The Door; Part Nine

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: It was stunning that the two of you hadn't grown tired of each other, what with the cabin being so small, but truthfully it had been peaceful.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our ninth installment! Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh @doggydale @jackie-loves-yalls-writing

x. Prelude

1. Indebted

2. Blood On Your Hands

3. Brush With Death

4. Come To Bed

5. Smells Like Snow

6. Hot Iron

7. Turnover

8. Backslide

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of blood, canon-typical violence, graphic depictions of mental and physical duress and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Don't think about it.

While he slammed the maul down on another log for you to use to cook breakfast, his breath issuing around his head in a steamy burst.

Don't think about it.

While he checked the traps, boots crunching through the thin crust on the snow and eyes searching for the ever-thinning wildlife tracks.

Don't think about it.

While he was buried inside you, panting and aching, his indelicate hands balled into fists on either side of your body to keep himself from doing something...

Don't think about it.

For someone who wasn't supposed to be thinking about it, Karl certainly felt like he was spending a lot of time thinking about it. His feelings were a tangled ball in his hollow chest, their bulk crowding his iron heart off to the side. There was the hope, that revolting, phantom limb sensation of hope that he barely dared to entertain even in his darkest moments. There was the fear, such fear, Karl hadn't felt fear like this even when he had been brought to heel by the husk of Winters. 

However, deep down, past all of that, there was a nameless thing that Heisenberg refused to examine. Some burgeoning emotion that welled up at random, when he was watching you sweep the floors or shovel out grazing patches in your front yard for hungry deer. 

Nameless due to his own stubbornness and regret, of course. Karl was no fool, despite evidence to the contrary. He refused to ruin this for himself. So it stayed nameless.

…

Not seeing the Duke during the winter was a relatively normal occurrence. You wondered privately if he hibernated like a bear, tucking himself into some forgotten burrow to wait out the frozen months. 

Without a surprise visit to break up the doldrums, however, the winter passed slowly in a daily march of chores, cooking and doing crossword puzzles in front of the fire. You were immensely grateful for the distraction Karl provided, used and overused to keeping yourself sane over the frigid weeks. You welcomed whatever inane discussion he began, glad for the company if nothing else. 

It was stunning that the two of you hadn't grown tired of each other, what with the cabin being so small, but truthfully it had been peaceful. Even when you did get on each other's nerves, a simple trek around the fenceline usually sorted it out. 

It seemed natural that Karl spent more nights in your bed than on his cot in the main room, and eventually the cot was folded up and put back into the closet from whence it came. It just made sense. 

You caught yourself stealing looks at him when he was busy, feeling a little foolish even as you did so. The two of you had slept together, you'd seen each other naked in the half-light many times. But this was different. It was different watching Karl chew absently on his bottom lip as he tried to solve a crossword puzzle. It was different when he wasn't showing off for you, when he was just existing. A bit like how his face softened while he was sleeping, the hard angles of his scarred visage becoming a little less pronounced. 

Seems you may have tamed me.

He'd said it derisively, but it rang true. No longer was he so abrasive or snide, the nickname he'd given you laced with fondness instead of sarcasm. 

Sugar.

It was all so confusing and you decided you just wouldn't think about it. Why ruin what you had going by overcomplicating things, right? It was better that way.

It was easier to not think about it.

…

It had been a week straight of nearly nothing but oatmeal and peanut butter sandwiches, so Karl was thrilled when he found two rabbits while making his rounds for the traps. He wasn't proud of the way his mouth immediately started watering. Christ, once upon a time he'd had a whole pack of lycans hunting for his meals, bringing him nothing but the choicest of kills. Now he was over the moon from gathering two scrubby little rabbits. 

After he moved the snares and set them anew, Karl squinted up at the faint sun barely visible through the clouds. An hour past noon, maybe? So rabbit for dinner, then. He slung the bodies over his shoulder and set out back towards the cabin, whistling tunelessly as he went. 

Catching himself smiling when he thought of what your reaction would be, Karl huffed in irritation and shook his head. Idiot.

He finally reached the fenceline after a long trek. It was simple enough to locate; the talismans made him queasy until he passed them. Easily vaulting the fence, the man continued ambling across the yard. As ever, smoke was issuing from the stovepipe of the cabin, and out of habit Karl picked up four more logs on his way by the outer woodpile. Burdened thusly, he sauntered up the steps and bumped open the door with his knee. “Lucky today, sugar!” He boomed as he entered the cabin.

You stared up at him from your spot next to the washtub beside the fire, threadbare towel around your hips, and Karl stared back at you, stunned. He could feel the heat rising in his face, the man quickly tearing his eyes away and turning his head.

“Sorry, I uh, I didn't realize you were going to take a bath.” Heisenberg managed to apologize, ditching the logs in the firebox and immediately heading for the door. “Give me a yell when you're done, okay? Gotta’ dress these anyway.” He cringed at how hard he shut the door behind him, the man then slumping against it out on the porch. What the hell was that?! he scolded himself angrily, you've seen them naked damn near every night! What the hell is wrong with you?

The door opened again. Karl froze, bracing himself out of old habit, but your arms just slid beneath his own, your fingers laced together as you hugged him from behind. You remained there for an eternal moment, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades. 

Don't think about it.

He finally asked, “everything okay?” On a bone-deep level Heisenberg wanted nothing more than to put a hand over your own, to keep you there-

Don't think about it. 

You nodded against his back, pulling away. “Water's still warm, if you want a bath.” 

Karl slung the two rabbits around as he turned to face you, dangling them away from his body. “I'll trade you two fresh morsels for a hot water top-up.” He bargained, “give me a few minutes to get them dressed and prepped, okay?” 

“I'll get the pot filled up, stuff's taking ages to boil because of how chilly it is.” You were shivering while you spoke and Karl absently watched a bead of water make its way down your jaw. “Karl?” You waved your hand, breaking his line of sight. 

The man jerked his eyes up, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry, been a long morning. I'll just…look you go back in, warm up. I'll let you know when these are done.”

…

You felt hot all over and it had nothing to do with your bath. If anything that had left you a little chilly, and following Karl in an effort to ease the awkward tension hadn't exactly helped.

You had thought you were used to the heated way he would look at you sometimes when he was about to ask to blow off some steam. The way his eyes would darken in focus, the way he would ball his hands into fists at his sides like he was trying to keep from touching you. It was so honest, straightforward and entirely Karl, and it was immensely attractive that he didn't feel like he needed to hide his interest in you.

The look he had given you when he walked in, however, had set you ablaze in a wildly different way. It was all wonder and intensity, as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

You patted your cheeks, wincing at how hot your face was. Clearly you were flustered, but why? This wasn't anything different! Nothing had even happened! Grumbling at yourself, you lugged the heavy pot of water to the stove and carefully settled it onto the top. 

This was stupid. Stupid. 

You were being stupid. You had a good thing going here! Why ruin it by being greedy? You and Karl were fine. 

You placed the lid on the washtub, doing your best to preserve the leftover hot water. Then, you tried to straighten yourself out. You'd need to cook the rabbit on the stove top, which meant you'd essentially be beside Karl while he bathed. You didn't have a privacy screen either; it had been moth eaten years ago and you hadn't seen the point of it since you were the only one in the cabin. Maybe you could string up a clothesline and hang a blanket-

“All done, sugar. Water ready?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice, losing your balance as you turned too quickly to face him. Karl’s eyes widened and he flung his hand out, snatching your arm away from the stove and then steadying you. The heat from the stove radiated through your sleeve, silently indicating how close you had come to a serious injury. Heisenberg stayed silent, his gaze searching your own. He seemed confused which, you supposed, made two of you.

“Thanks,” you finally squeaked, then, “Rabbit turn out okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “I did what I could, but it's no prime rib.”

“Stew it is!” You replied with forced cheer, carefully extracting yourself from him and then donning the heatproof gloves you kept beside the stove. “Can you uncover the tub, please? And you don't mind if I start dinner while you scrub up, do you?”

You were halfway hoping he would protest, drag the tub off into the bedroom or something, but the man gave you a sullen shake of his head. “Doesn't bother me.” Of course, why would he start being a prude now.

After you topped up the tub, you expected him to go into the bedroom to strip down. You weren't sure why you expected that, but you did. So when he immediately started unbuckling his belt you had to rapidly remove yourself from the situation, skittering unsteadily into the kitchen to begin preparing the evening meal. 

You hated how you could feel how flushed your face was, it was so embarrassing. What was the issue?! 

You diced the few remaining vegetables you had on autopilot, especially thankful you'd hung onto the small onions you'd managed to grow. They had looked a little pitiful, but they kept well and were fantastic for enhancing flavor, so you couldn't really complain. 

Gathering everything up, you steeled yourself and turned around, only to be greeted by the sight of Karl fully ensconced in the wash tub. He had put his back towards the stove (maybe for warmth?) and had draped his towel carefully over the top of the basin so as to shield the majority of his body from you, a gesture that left you both grateful and somewhat disappointed. The man raised his hand, giving you a languid salute, then returned to leaning back in the tub with a long, contented sigh.

You could do this. You could totally do this. What was the big deal?

You had made stew hundreds of times, so luckily muscle memory could carry you in this instance. You moved automatically through browning the meat and sautéing the vegetables, dissolving the bouillon powder in a small bowl of water, then using the mixture to deglaze the bottom of the pot and finally stirring everything together to boil. 

Opening the stove door, you winced at the roaring flames, grabbing your tongs to adjust a few logs off to the side. The stew wouldn't need to boil for too long, instead benefiting more from a long, low simmer, so you needed to strategically place the logs to keep the heat at a manageable level.

“How was the walk?” You asked in a desperate bid to make friendly conversation while you shifted the embers. “Any more bear tracks?”

“Nah,” Karl replied, and you saw him wave a dismissive hand out of the corner of your eye. “I saw wolf and bobcat, that's it. I'm just glad they didn't steal the rabbits before I got there.” That hand landed on your leg suddenly. “Hey, don't put any mushrooms in this, okay? I'm tired of those fucking mushrooms.” He complained.

You turned your head to issue a good-natured retort, only to catch sight of his back as he moved his weight in the tub. You had never seen it in the light of day. Thinking back, Karl normally left his shirt on when you were…intimate, but you had assumed it had more to do with the urgent frenzy of the act. Now though, you weren't so certain.

The entirety of his back was criss-crossed with long, thin scars. He looked like he'd been whipped, or maybe lashed with a belt. All but a few of the marks were silvered with age, and the highest one was nearly concealed by his hair. What had happened to him?

I think bare minimum I've done some real bad things.

You mumbled out something noncommittal regarding the mushrooms, then fixed your attention on the fire. He's done some bad things? Or bad things have been done to him? you wondered. Maybe both. You heard quiet splashing so you knew Heisenberg was at least washing up and hopefully hadn't noticed your reaction to seeing his naked back.

Once you finally decided you had babied the blaze sufficiently, you closed the door to the stove and then went to deposit the cutting board in the kitchen sink. Karl caught your hand before you could make your escape, however. 

“H-Hey, I…could you comb my hair again?” He asked hesitantly, the man pointedly focusing his gaze elsewhere. “Like you did the…er, the first time. Or when we were on the porch together.”

Your heart melted at his soft tone, the uncertain cadence of his words bringing to mind a sort of grudging admission. 

Seemingly misunderstanding your silence, Karl added in a whisper, “please?”

“Of course.” You tried to keep your own voice steady and gentle, like you were soothing a frightened animal. “Let me get a towel, okay? Maybe some conditioner too.” Karl nodded, settling back into the tub.

The towel in question was a tattered thing, bearing the faded color scheme of a long-forgotten beach destination. To be fair, most of the bath towels you had were the same, all relics of past family vacations. The cabin had become a bit of a dumping ground for such souvenirs before you had inherited it, a few dust-coated snowglobes still lining the corners of the kitchen windowsill.

You planted yourself on the sagging couch with your precious tube of leave-in conditioner (saved for special wash days), spread the towel across your knees and then patted your thighs. “Here, lay your head back in my lap.” You instructed, giving him an encouraging smile when he gingerly did so. You began to carefully work through the ends of his hair with your fingers, frowning intently at the tangles in his oddly-lank tresses. Granted, his hair was mostly gray, but it wasn't coarse or wiry like how gray hair usually was with age. If you hadn't noticed some of his darker, nearly black strands, you would have just assumed his hair came directly from birth as this strange tan-platinum. 

“What's wrong, sugar?” Karl asked, his brow furrowed as he stared up at you worriedly.

“Your hair, I'm not quite sure how to help.” You mused, pulling your fingers through a few tresses and then working back down to massage his scalp. Heisenberg shuddered, closing his eyes at your touch. “It's not really a curl pattern, but…I'm just not sure. I'm not familiar with your type of hair.” You admitted, smiling apologetically. “My leave-in stuff might make it worse.”

“Who cares?” Karl groaned and you had to admit, his logic was sound. Truly, what did it matter? One round of detangling may leave him a bit more greasy, but it wasn't as if he had to look presentable for company. You laughed, nodding and then squeezing a small dollop of product out into your palm. Rubbing your hands together, you began the slow, careful process of coaxing the knots out of his strands.

…

The bathwater had gone tepid ages ago, not that Heisenberg really cared. Every cell in his body was currently focused on the feeling of your hands in his hair.

This may have been a terrible idea, he realized a little too late. To be fair, he hadn't really registered that he enjoyed having his hair touched or lightly pulled until you had done it, so the oversight could probably be forgiven. That knowledge was also of little help to him at the moment, with one of your hands supporting the back of his neck while the other worked end-over-end on his tangled mane. It was agony, small flutters of pain that set his entire body ablaze before soothing them again and again. Karl could barely keep himself from moaning, certain that if he did you would never let him live it down. But gods, it was wonderful. The tender drag of your fingers through his hair, the way you hummed absently as you did it, the way your thumb rubbed back and forth over his scars-

Heisenberg stiffened. He had entirely forgotten about his back. You must have seen it when he moved, but you hadn't said a word. He wasn't really sure why he had continued to hide it from you. His face was scarred, his arms and legs. Maybe it was because the back couldn't be explained away like the others; it was too obviously deliberate to have been self-inflicted through clumsiness in the throes of his experiments. The marks were also much, much older, from right after he had been…pressed into service. 

“Still alright? Not hurting?” You asked softly, pausing to cup the back of his head and work your fingers in small circles at the base of his skull. Karl couldn't help the noise he made at that, half-sigh, half-groan, but your little chuckle made it slightly less embarrassing. “Got it, I'll keep going.”

Gods, Karl wanted to squirm. He felt like he needed to pant or shiver or whine, his body growing tense as he realized just how vulnerable he really was. 

You clicked your tongue, digging the pads of your fingers into his scalp. “Relax, Karl.” The man shuddered without intending to, his eyes rolling back in his head. You proceeded to drag your thumbs down the sides of his face, urging his eyes to stay shut. “That’s it, Karl, just relax.” You crooned, spreading your fingers to cradle the back of his head and lightly scratch the area with your nails. “Relax.”

I'm trying! Karl wanted to snap, but all he got out was a low moan of acknowledgement. You momentarily stilled at the noise, then continued without a word. The man writhed internally, embarrassed and a little panicked that you would think less of him over this (how could you possibly manage thinking less of him). 

“Hey,” he slurred out finally, grabbing your hand. “You must think you're real slick, huh? Getting me all worked up, having me at your mercy.”

The look you gave him was one of extreme confusion and Karl immediately began doubting himself. “I thought you had a tender head.” You explained, blinking down at him. “That's why I was trying to get you to relax so it wouldn't pull so badly.”

Tender head. Karl wanted to scream, but instead he settled for a grunt, moving to stand up from the tub. The motion exposed his entire back to you and he straightened to his full height, waiting for you to say something while he poorly dried himself off.

So quickly he wasn't entirely sure how it happened, your arm snaked up beneath his own from behind and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, making Karl exhale hard and tilt his chin up in an effort to go along with the motion. You tugged roughly at the strands and Heisenberg gritted his teeth, flinching when your other hand landed on his abdomen just above his extremely interested dick. “Fuck, sugar, what the hell?” He panted, put somewhat off-balance by the whole series of events.

“Step out of the tub before you slip and eat shit.” You instructed. Karl could hear a little laughter in your words. “If you're not tender-headed it just means that you've been enjoying this, right? So why stop?” 

Karl shot you a bewildered look through his messy locks but you appeared serious. “What, you just want to keep fucking with my hair?” 

“Yeah. And fuck you if you're up for it.” You offered, shrugging. “You're attractive and naked.”

Heisenberg had dealt with a plethora of unprecedented situations in his life, yet somehow this was the one that was about to kill him. “If I'm up for it,” he scoffed, cautiously removing himself from the washbasin and bending to quickly pat his legs dry. “Oh yeah, I'll really turn this one down.”

You insisted, “you have the right to say no!” and you seemed a little annoyed that he didn't appear to believe you. You had always given him an out, for all that it was unneeded. It wasn't exactly like you could force him into doing anything. 

Karl then turned around to face you, raising an eyebrow. “Well, sugar?” 

…

To think, you hadn't been hurting him! Honestly you were a little relieved. The way he had been twitching under your touch had made you anxious. 

After spreading a blanket on the couch, you had him lay down with his head in your lap again. “What are you comfortable with me doing?” You asked.

Karl shifted his weight impatiently. “Anything, whatever the hell you want, sugar.” You rubbed the pads of your fingers at his hairline, then dug your fingers into his hair and slowly raked them down. The man shuddered bodily, closing his eyes as a soft hiss of, “fuck,” escaped him. 

“Still okay?” You murmured, cradling the back of his neck. You felt him nod rapidly, which emboldened you to continue, but you were still alert for any signs of discomfort.

That alertness vanished immediately when Karl brushed his hand over his cock, panting something indecipherable as he did. Hell, it might have been gibberish for all you knew, but it was uttered in such a low tone you couldn't catch the words. He quickly palmed his dick again, then asked breathlessly, “you don't mind if I jerk off, right?”

“Uh--well, no, no I don’t.”

“Okay good,” he grunted, “because I'm going to.”

“Do you…I mean, should I…?” You hesitated, your hands stilling in his hair. 

“No, no, keep going, it's great.” Heisenberg insisted, then rushed to add, “er, if you want to, you could take your shirt off.”

You smiled, “absolutely. Let me know if I pull too much or something.” You hauled your shirt off overhead and quickly fell back into a rhythm, burying your hands in his hair and slowly working your way through the various tiny knots and tangles while Karl shuddered beneath your touch. It was, if nothing else, extremely gratifying to witness his reaction to your work. Normally you weren't exactly in a position of control, so it was very new for you to hold any sort of sway over Karl. 

You'd preferred it that way, of course. It was more enjoyable for you to not have to think so hard about everything that you had to do, simply following instructions. However, judging from his writhing, you might need to take up this task more often. 

“No one else ever did this for you, I assume?” You queried, grinning at the exasperated noise that the man made in reply.

“Fuck no. I'd have gotten my entire head taken off if I'd asked.” Karl growled, willingly leaning into your next tug as he reached up to fondle one of your breasts. “Fuck, fuck, sugar-”

“You're alright.” You soothed, your free hand slipping beneath his chin to keep his eyes on your own. Heisenberg swallowed hard, seeming surprised at the movement but not fighting it. If anything he met your gaze with an odd level of deference, the look in those strange green eyes nearly reverent. 

“I'm–gods-” He gasped.

You kissed his forehead sweetly. “Come for me?” 

Heisenberg shivered bodily, his eyes rolling back in his head while his hand sped up. “Can we–would you still want to fuck me? After this?” If you didn't know any better, you would have classified the question as begging. But surely Karl would never let himself get to that level of incoherence, that level of base.

“Of course.” You whispered, moving to kiss his forehead again. At the last second, Karl shifted his head to the side, catching your mouth in a frantic kiss. You laughed into his mouth, startled, and he groaned in reply, biting down softly on your lower lip as he came.

…

Fuck, he was in trouble. He'd almost said something regrettable, something that he wouldn't be able to take back. What the hell was the matter with him?!

Karl was torn between desperately, frantically wanting to bury himself in your body and also wanting nothing more than to get himself the hell away from this mess he was making. He could feel that he was fucking something up, even if he couldn't fully label what it was. His heart was hammering in his chest as you straddled him, obediently turning around when he asked. He just…he couldn't handle more eye contact right now. Not now, when he could feel himself fraying.

You were always so goddamn good to him.

“Thank you, sugar,” he purred in your ear while you settled onto his cock, your legs spread wide over his thighs in an attempt to take him easier. Karl splayed one large hand on your mound, applying the steady pressure he knew you loved so much. 

Loved. His brain, already strung out from his first orgasm, clung to the word. Loved loved love, love. 

Heisenberg ground his teeth in frustration, filling his hands with your breasts as you arched your back against his chest. Your head rested on his shoulder, breath panting in his ear while he fucked up into you. “Karl, Karl, Karl–” you sobbed his name over and over like a mantra, your obvious adoration making Karl's head spin. 

He felt drunk, shattered, as though he had been carrying a burden for an eternity and was finally, finally getting the chance to rest. Which was idiotic, he was working as hard as he could to rail you properly, but he still couldn't shake the feeling. You were so hot around him, so wet, you took him so easily compared to how long it used to take to get you warmed up. Not that Karl had minded, fuck no, the way that you would impatiently whine at him while he worked you open with his fingers and tongue was a treasured memory. But the noises you were making now, panting little gasps, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck…

“Can you look at me?” You begged. Karl's breath hitched and, to his utter shame, he just shook his head. As if to apologize, he placed a series of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your jawline, the gesture oddly soft compared to how he usually behaved. 

What the hell was wrong with him?!

He bit down on your shoulder as if to retaliate against his gentleness, making you squirm and whimper beneath his teeth. He could devour you, break you, you'd let him, you'd–

Heisenberg flinched, using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he'd just left. “Shhh, just come for me, sugar. Don't worry about anything else,” he muttered, half to you, half to himself. Don't worry about anything else, Karl. 

Suddenly you shifted your weight, rising fully up onto your knees until Karl's dick slid out of you. The man made a noise of confusion, but then you turned around and sank back down into his lap. 

Facing him. 

Karl froze, grateful that (for the moment!) your eyes were focused somewhere lower. Your nails dug into his shoulders for purchase and after a moment, you rested your forehead on his chest. 

Karl grabbed your left hip, his other hand cradling the back of your neck and keeping you still. He then ground up against you mercilessly, his gaze focused on the ceiling. You cried out, some feral noise escaping you, and Heisenberg couldn't help responding with his own growl in kind, breath seething between his teeth. “Sugar, fuck's sake, I need it, I need you to come!” He snarled, and you reared back, pulling away from his grip. Planting your hands on his chest and locking your elbows, you just…stared at him while you fell apart.

It was so intimate, too intimate. Karl's stomach twisted into knots but, for all that he desperately wanted to, he couldn't tear his eyes away. You were beautiful, the gray light of the late winter afternoon somehow making you no less radiant, no less attractive, and you smiled at him so dreamily–

Oh.

Oh no.

Karl pulled out and quickly jerked himself to completion on your stomach. While he was mentally arguing with himself over leaving immediately you wound up cradling him to your chest, his ear pressed between your breasts to listen to how your heartbeat thundered beneath the skin. Your fingers lazily traced the scars on his back, one after the other, down along the length of his spine until you couldn't reach any further, then you started back up. 

No one had ever touched him like you did. No one had ever come to him with their hands open, always closed around an implement or clenched into a fist. 

No one had ever treated him like this before, and that was why he had to leave. 

Sorry, sugar.

Part Ten

[dariusult]

FFXIV Write Day 16- Third-Rate

Samga didn't like playing nursemaid, but with Sudeki in the state that she was, there wasn't much choice. The escape from Rhalgr's reach hadn't gone well for anyone, but Sudeki had somehow drawn the short straw during the team's escape from the Twelfth Legion. The Miqo'te's injuries weren't life threatening, but they were bad enough that she'd been confined to bed for a while, or in this case, confined to a makeshift cot. Twilight Dove had been doing most of the work looking after Sudeki, having gotten out of the confrontation with only light wounds, but she needed to rest, so Samga was taking over.

The young Xaela picked her way through the hastily constructed tangle of tents and lean-tos thrown together by the retreating forces of the combined Eorzean Alliance and Ala Mhigan resistance. In her left hand a brown earthenware jug lazily dangled. She was going to fill it with water to bring back to the injured Miqo'te. After having a drink herself, of course. As she left the perimeter of the camp and headed towards the river on the edge of the woods, the Xaela suddenly realized she wasn't alone. Before she could turn to see who had been tailing her, the individual in question announced themselves.

"Well now, I'd heard a little blue lizard had been tryin' to kill my Sudeki. Then I heard she went 'n got herself hurt out in these parts... And here you are." The voice had a familiar cadence to it, very similar to Sudeki's own.

Samga recognized it immediately. She'd never heard the voice herself, but the memories she'd seen, the vision the echo had showed her before she'd left the steppe... The Xaela whirled around, eyes wide, and standing behind her she saw someone whose face she'd seen thousands of times in her dreams but never in person. A tall, muscular Miqo'te man with a head of wild, shaggy, pinkish hair the same color as Sudeki's, a cocky grin graced his face, which had more lines on it than in Samga's memories... But there was no doubting who he was: S'nankali Nunh.

Samga's hands clenched into tight fists, the handle of the earthenware jug shattering under the force of her grip, sending the vessel falling to the ground, whereupon it cracked open and fell apart into several large pieces. She was stunned, she was beyond stunned. Why was he here? Why now!? Seeing him in person was almost too much for her to bear. Conflicting thoughts screamed at her as they raced through her mind, her tightly balled fists began to tremble.

S'nankali glanced down at the smashed jug and then back up at Samga, still wearing the same cocky grin. "Hey now, that jug didn't do nothin'... Or do you just like breaking things?" He took a step forward, slowly bringing his hands together and cracking his knuckles, his grin faded and his eyes grew cold. "Cause I'm pretty good at breaking things... And if you're intent on coming after my daughter, maybe I should break you."

Samga's gaze met his, and she felt a chill run through her veins. The young pugilist took a slow deep breath and narrowed her eyes. She was doing everything she could to still the trembling in her hands. She could feel the primal tinge of fear running through her, but it wasn't fear alone. Anticipation, hatred, confusion, and bloodlust all swirled around inside her head, spurring her to action while also freezing her in place. This man was the man she'd come to Eorzea to find, this man was the entire reason her life had taken the trajectory it had. She'd only ever bothered to fight Sudeki at first because she was a stepping stone to this opponent. The man who'd ruined her life before she'd even been born. She shouldn't have felt so conflicted; her goal was standing in front of her, but other feelings were getting in the way. He was Sudeki's father, her friend's father. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as that last thought brought a sudden revelation. Her friend? When had she started thinking of Sudeki as her friend? The Xaela's eyes narrowed, at some point she'd lost her way... Started wasting her time messing around with people who didn't matter. But that could all change right here, the chance to course correct was staring her in the face.

Seeing Samga's eyes narrow, S'nankali's grin crept back onto his face. "Now there's a look." The Miqo'te raised a hand and beckoned the Xaela forward. "You think you can take me? You're welcome to try." He slowly slid a foot back, bending his knees as he lowered himself into a ready stance. "Either come at me, or I come at you. If you're tough enough, maybe I won't kill you."

Samga pushed the fear and uncertainty out of her mind. Slowly, wordlessly, she lowered herself into a fighting stance. She'd relived the echo vision of S'nankali fighting her father a thousand times in her memory, she knew she was stronger and faster than he was then. She could beat him. She would beat him. The Xaela slowly inhaled and focused on her opponent, reminding herself of the hate she held for this man. The suffering he'd caused, and how with his death she'd finally be able to dispel the curse that had been hanging over her and her family for years. With that hatred held tightly in her heart, Samga lunged with the speed of a coiled viper, aiming a kick directly at the side of S'nankali's head with as much speed and strength as she could muster.

S'nankali's eyes widened as Samga made her move, but the Xaela didn't see surprise in the Miqo'te's eyes, she saw anticipation, thrill. His eyes stayed locked with hers as she closed in, his grin widening as he felt the bloodlust practically rolling off of her in waves. She wanted him dead, and she'd need to fight with that level of ferocity if she wanted to stand a chance.

Right before Samga's kick found its mark, S'nankali's arm shot up, intercepting the Xaela's kick by spiking his elbow directly into her shin. He immediately followed the attack by stepping forward and driving his opposite fist directly into her stomach.

Samga had been sure she'd moved too quickly for S'nankali to react, but his own reaction had been so impossibly fast that she couldn't even register what was happening before the pain set in, first a sharp pain radiating up through her shin and then an explosive impact that sent her flying off of her feet and tumbling backwards across the ground. Not one to get knocked down so easily, the young Xaela caught her footing, sliding backwards out of the tumble, throwing a hand down to steady herself as she sucked air into her lungs, fighting the urge to gasp from having the wind unceremoniously knocked out of her. She should've known better than to attack S'nankali from the front when he had been goading her to do just that. Of course he'd be ready to intercept a frontal assault!

Samga steadied herself and instead of preparing her next move, was immediately struck by a second punch, this time hooking across the right side of her face, which she just barely kept from knocking her out by clenching her jaw as hard as she could and then spinning her body so she could turn and roll off of the fist. S'nankali had followed up his first strikes immediately, she needed to turn the momentum back in her favor! She continued turning using the momentum of her spin to bring her right arm around, balling a fist up tightly and-

Her right arm was snatched out of the air, then her left, she was yanked forward as S'nankali pulled her in towards him and jumped, shooting a knee straight up into her jaw. Samga's vision flashed and she could hear ringing in her horns, but she clung to consciousness, partly out of determination and partly out of desperation. She stumbled backwards, but before she could even catch her footing, S'nankali was attacking again, keeping his hold on her right arm and spinning with his grip tight, flipping her over his back and throwing her into the ground hard.

"Kuh!" Samga coughed as air was slammed out of her lungs, she could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. She needed to find a way to overturn this situation, but the only coherent thought in her head, the one piercing through the haze of pain and disorientation was one simple feeling: It's not fair. She was stronger than he had been when he'd fought and blinded her father, but the S'nankali that she was fighting in the here and now was so far beyond even that. The Xaela's eyes regained their focus just in time for Samga to see S'nankali's fist streaking towards her face. She raised her arms and deflected the blow to the side, sending his knuckles into the dirt next to her head with an impact so hard she could feel it through the ground, the back of her head, and into her teeth.

S'nankali pressed the attack, climbing over Samga and straddling the young pugilist to pin her onto her back while raining punches down on her. The steppe-dweller struggled to defend herself, throwing her hands and arms into the way of as many hits as she could, but more often than not, S'nankali's fists found their mark as her head was snapped in one direction, then the other. She clenched her jaw as tightly as she could and held on to her consciousness, but as she managed to catch glimpses of him through the rain of fists—eyes wide and unblinkingly fixed on her, lips drawn tight and jaw set, breathing steady, calm, and powerful—she came to a cold, sober realization. "He's going to kill me. If I don't escape from this fight, I'm going to die."

Samga desperately continued trying to defend herself from his punches, waiting for any chance to find an opening. She eventually got one as S'nankali drew his arm way back, clenching his fist for a blow that would surely kill Samga if it landed. The Xaela flicked an arm forward and in an act of desperation, flung a fistful of sand and grit directly at S'nankali's face. He swept his other arm through the air, effortlessly batting the attempted distraction aside and swung his fist down hard. Samga had created just enough of an opening, pushing with her hands, she slid down between S'nankali's legs and out from under him just as his fist cratered the ground where her head had been just a split second earlier. She was behind him now, and she knew what she had to do: run. She threw herself forward into a sprint, it didn't matter where she was going, she just had to get away. But as her feet dug into the ground and she sprung forward, a strong hand clamped down around her ankle and she was yanked backwards off her feet and thrown through the air, tumbling head over heels until she was stopped by a tree, slamming back into it hard enough to crack the trunk. The Xaela was splayed out in a sitting position, her back against the tree and her head slumped. She couldn't feel her arms and legs, her lungs were burning, her mouth tasted like blood, her eyes were hot and stinging, and the corners of her vision were starting to go dark. She tried to mouth a curse, but nothing came out, she only managed to send a dribble of blood and spit down her chin.

"That's it...?" S'nankali said as he slowly stood up to his full height and began walking over to Samga. "This sad excuse for a fist-fighter is the girl who almost killed my daughter?" His face came into view, his head was raised high, and he looked down at Samga with pure disdain. "What in the seven hells is that girl doing that someone like you is even remotely threatening to her?" The Miqo'te let out a long, disappointed sigh and slowly lowered himself into another fighting stance. "I guess I can find her and ask her once I've dealt with you." His eyes narrowed. "Better luck in your next life."

S'nankali flashed forward, Samga shut her eyes tight, there was a thunderous impact, and... Nothing. The sound of a blow landing had resounded out around her, but the blow itself never came. Samga slowly opened one eye only to see the hulking frame of Twilight Dove between her and S'nankali; the Miqo'te's fist tightly gripped in Dove's own hand.

An appreciative whistle escaped from S'nankali's lips. "Not bad! Wh-" As he began to speak he was immediately cut off as Twilight Dove lifted him clean off the ground and threw him overhand like a tomahawk, sending the Miqo'te man flying backwards through the air. He flipped himself upright in the air and crossed his arms as his feet made contact with the ground, bringing him skidding to a halt. His grin reappeared as he regarded the Hellsguard woman. "Pretty good!"

"Fight's over." Twilight Dove said curtly, placing herself in front of Samga and spreading her arms out to shield the battered Xaela from view. "I dunno who you are, but you've got nothing left to prove."

S'nankali offered a nonchalant shrug in response to Dove's declaration. "Alright, suit yourself. Not like she was much sport to begin with." He then pointed at the Roegadyn, grinning like a boy who'd just been given a brand new toy. "You on the other hand, look like you might actually be tough. Fancy goin' a round or two?"

"I'm not interested." Twilight Dove replied immediately, keeping her eyes locked on the Miqo'te and her expression stern. "I'm only here for the girl."

S'nankali let out a long sigh, slumping his shoulders and throwing his head back. "Gods, this is a day for disappointment." He held that position for a moment, until his ears perked up as he had a little idea. He pointed past Twilight Dove to Samga. "Y'know I absolutely trashed her, was totally going to kill her, right?" His mouth curved into a smirk. "Just gonna take that lying down?"

"Yes." Twilight Dove said flatly.

"If you take her and run, that means you cowarded out and I beat both of you." He added. "It means I'm stronger than you."

"Yup, congratulations." The Roegadyn continued to sandbag the Miqo'te's attempted provocations, slowly turning around and beginning to check over the fallen Xaela, quietly speaking to her. "You're gonna be alright, Samga."

S'nankali stood in silence for a moment, staring at the burly Roegadyn woman's back. He could probably attack her and force a fight that way, but fighting a reluctant opponent was never much fun. He could threaten the Xaela girl's life and force her to fight that way, too. But again, not very interesting. If he was gonna fight someone who could catch one of his punches, he wanted them to want it. If her heart wasn't going to be in it, then there was no point. The Miqo'te sighed angrily and kicked the ground, sending a few pebbles bouncing away into the underbrush of the woods. "Fine, have it your way." He spun on his heel and grumbled, scratching the back of his head as he began to trudge off. "But if that girl ever bothers my daughter again, you're gonna need a dustpan to pick up what's left of 'er."

Twilight Dove glanced back over her shoulder and glared after S'nankali as he left, the light of realization flickering across her face as the pink-haired Miqo'te man mentioned his daughter. Twilight Dove held that position for a moment, watching S'nankali walk off down towards the river before finally turning back to Samga. Once she had determined that moving the young Xaela wasn't going to hurt her more, Dove gingerly picked her up off the ground. With Samga cradled in her arms, Twilight Dove stood up to her full height and began walking back towards the camp. "That was a close call, Samga. But you're gonna be alright." She glanced down at the young Qerel and smiled reassuringly. "Whatever that was, I can guarantee Sudeki didn't have anything to do with it. That shite he said doesn't matter."

What Twilight Dove had said barely registered to Samga. The Xaela's mind was clearing, feeling was returning to her arms and legs in the form of intense pain—but more painful than that was the crushing feeling in her chest. Hearing Sudeki's name mentioned snapped Samga back to reality as she remembered the conflict in her heart before the fight. Her friend, Sudeki. Why? Why were they friends? If this was as far as Samga had come after everything she'd done, what had been the point of any of it? The Xaela clenched her teeth and lowered her head, trying hard to swallow the hot hard lump forming in her throat. There was no point. It had all been for nothing.

[bookwormscififan]

Broken Dreams

Read on AO3!

A/N: I have a propensity for writing angst, and this idea came to me while I was writing some Chaos Twins.

Warnings: Mad gets burned, and he also gets a mild concussion, but it's all accidental.

-

Usually, when Mare had a nightmare, he was able to use his powers and a tight hold on Mad to switch it into a pleasant dream. As such, Mad has never experienced what happens when Mare loses control of his nightmares.

He woke up to Mare muttering in his sleep, slurring words that Mad couldn’t understand, his tired sentences broken by groans and gasps. His grip on Mad’s shirt was loose, almost non-existent as he tossed his head from side to side.

Mad opened his eyes to see a purple glow on the wall opposite him, and he immediately started gasping for breath at the smoky heat that almost suffocated him. Blinking, he spotted the purple flames climbing the walls, licking at the paint he and Mare had spent a whole day deciding on.

When Mare let go of his shirt, Mad rolled over to face him, seeing the flames climbing the wall behind Mare as well. Biting his lip, Mad lifted a hand and set it on Mare’s shoulder, gently shaking him in an attempt to wake him.

“Mare—” he grunted as a blast of energy sent him flying, groaning as his back hit the wall with a sickening crack. Sliding to the ground, Mad slapped at the flames licking at his arms, hissing when they left tiny purple burn marks in their wake.

Eyes wide in fear, Mad watched Mare toss and turn in his sleep, and he pulled his knees to his chest to make himself as small as possible, leaning away from the flames climbing the walls. Wherever Mare turned his head, the flames seemed to grow brighter and hotter, and soon Mad was curled in a corner far from the bed, casting fearful eyes at his boyfriend and silently willing him to wake up.

His arms were covered in tiny purple marks, almost identical to the bites Mare usually gave him, but searing his skin with an unexplainable sting. His head throbbed, most likely a mild concussion from the blast that sent him off the bed, and his eyes were watering from the smoke in the room.

Mare woke up with a gasp, heart pounding as he swept his hand across the covers in search of Mad, unaware of the tiny sparks dancing across the bed in the wake of his arm. His breathing grew heavier and more panicked when he didn’t feel Mad beside him, sitting up to see the glowing room and flames on the walls.

Pressing his hands to the sides of his head, Mare closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly, evenly, before he opened his eyes again, sighing when he saw that the room was back to normal. He pressed a hand to his chest, rubbing over his pounding heart, and looked around the room as he gathered his thoughts.

He froze when he spotted Mad, curled in the corner with his knees at his chest and arms wrapped around them, the skin dotted with purple marks. He watched Mad tremble, breathing uneven and laboured, and his heart sank when he spotted the fear in Mad’s eyes.

“Mad?” Mare reached for Mad, but paused when Mad flinched, seeming to curl tighter into himself in fear. “Dear heart?” Mare tried again, not moving his hand, just tilting his head to give Mad a comforting smile.

Mad slowly stood up, holding his arms close to his chest as if to protect himself, then walked along the wall to the door, exiting, and leaving Mare to sit in the bed confused.

-

“Mad, honey?” Mare said quietly, knocking gently on the door to Mad’s office and waiting for an answer. His hair was a mess, tousled from the hours he spent running his hands through it as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

“Dear heart, I’m coming in,” he called before opening the door slightly and stepping inside, catching the relaxation ball Mad threw at him with one hand. Lowering his arm, Mare looked around the lab, spotting Mad curled up in the cot, tears on his cheeks and eyes still wide with fear.

“Don’t… don’t come closer,” Mad said, holding a hand out to stop Mare, arm shaking from the continued sting of the burns. “Please… stay away.” His voice broke at those words, open palm closing as he lowered his arm, holding his fist to his mouth.

“Mad, if I hurt you, you know I can fix it,” Mare tried, holding his hands up in surrender. “I had a nightmare, one I couldn’t control, and you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” He sighed when Mad shook his head, eyes closed tightly to hold back a new wave of tears.

“Please… just leave me alone…” he whispered, barely holding back his sobs. “We’ll talk… in the morning… please, go.”

Mare bit his lip, holding back his own tears, then nodded slowly and headed for the door, turning the knob and starting to step outside. Before he closed the door, he glanced back inside to see Mad crying in the cot, holding his shaking arms out to check his burns.

“I do love you,” Mare said quietly, closing the door and going back to bed, holding Mad’s pillow to his chest and letting his guilt wash over him.

------------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[stevesbestgirl]

Into the Fire

Soft!Dark!Daddy!Lee Bodecker x Little!F!Reader

3411 Words

Warnings: mentions of blood, gun use, mild violence, allusions to domestic abuse, implication of past sexual assault, stress-induced regression, mentions of mice, grief

A/N: Part 2 to Out of the Pan! Despite all of the warnings, this came out much softer than I’d originally planned. Lee should be the easiest character to write dark, but I just can’t do it, so I hope y’all enjoy a soft, dark sheriff daddy as much as I do.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Bodecker’s gaze bored into you. But any plea you could think of felt pointless. He’d killed Preston and he was never gonna let you go.

He stroked your chin with his thumb, “Quit your crying now. You’re gonna be fine. Daddy’s got ya now.”

Before you could think better of it, you jutted your chin into his palm, “No.” 

His eyebrow quirked, “No?”

His tone made you second guess yourself already, but you repeated yourself, “No. You’re not my daddy. I want to go home.”

“That so?” You’d always heard the sheriff had a bit of a temper, so this cold fury was unexpected. It gave you goosebumps, but you nodded slowly. 

He chuckled softly, “Alright then, sweet pea. Have it your way.” He stood, knees cracking as he came out of the crouch, offering you a hand up from the couch. 

You reluctantly put your hand in his; it felt like a trap, but it wasn’t like you had another option. So when he took you up to the front door, your heart leapt, but once outside, he didn’t lead you toward the car. Instead, he stepped off the front stoop, moving toward the side of the house. 

You resisted, “W-wait, where are we going?”

“You don’t have to be my girl, but this is home now. So I’m takin’ ya to your room.” He tipped his head at the storm cellar.

“Wait, no, I- I changed my mind-”

“Nah, you’re just sayin’ that now. We’re gonna wait ‘til you mean it.”

He dropped your hand to unlock the bolt on the outside of the cellar doors and with a sharp glance at the woods, you took off. The ground here was even less forgiving on your bare feet than the pavement had been, but you barely made it to the tree line before a shot rang out, sending bark chips flying into your path.

You let out a shriek and drew in on yourself, curling into a ball where you stood. “Don’t be doing anything foolish like that,” Bodecker reprimanded. He snapped his fingers, “Get back over here, now, before I lose my temper.”

You scurried back over to the cellar doors, where he gave you an irritated look before throwing the doors open. He squeezed the back of your neck between his fingers, directing you down the steps ahead of him. 

Bodecker pushed you forward, darkness encasing you until there was a click and dim light washed over the room. It was small, the single bare lightbulb able to light the whole room. It was also pretty barren. A workbench in dire need of repair sat in the corner of the room. A stack of broken down cardboard leaned up against the wall and there were several spots along the walls that looked like they were indefinitely damp. 

“I’ll bring down the cot for ya, so you got somewhere to sleep,” he said, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

You felt your lip tremble, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He paused for a fraction of a second, but he shook his head, “No. You’re gonna learn to appreciate what I‘m doin’ for ya.” He cupped your chin again, turning your face this way and that, “I’ll bring down an ice pack too, so hopefully your face won’t swell up too bad.” 

Then he let go, shuffling back toward the steps, leaving you standing in the center of the dingy room. True to his word, he returned twenty minutes later, huffing and puffing as he hauled the folding cot down the steps. You remained where you were, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, still in a half-numb state of shock. 

Once the cot was set up in the corner, he turned to leave again, but you felt your hands reach for his, “Wait-” A sound that was almost a whimper escaped you, “Don’t leave me alone.”

He gave a self-satisfied chuckle, “I’m just goin’ t’get the ice pack.”

Reluctantly, you allowed him to slide his hand from yours and disappear back up the stairs, though a knot of fear began to form in your belly. What if he didn’t come back? He could leave you locked down here and no one would ever know.

So when he returned with the ice pack and a sandwich on a plate, as soon as he set them down, you surprised him by throwing yourself at him with a hug. He braced your shoulders and pulled you back, though he couldn’t mask the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, “What’s the matter with you, girl?”

You kept your gaze lowered, “‘M sorry, Sheriff. Just a lil scared.”

“What do you got t’be scared of? I said I was gonna keep ya safe, didn’t I?”

You nodded, looking around the grim cellar, “Lotta changes, I guess.” You had to force the words out, “Thank you- for what you did for me.”

He gave a short nod, “Been a big night for ya.” It was like you could see the temptation to reconsider pass behind his eyes, but you didn’t want to overplay your hand. You stepped back, taking a seat on the cot and scooping up the ice pack.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you gingerly pressed the pack to your battered cheek- it was already tender to touch. Bodecker watched you grimace, his brow furrowing, “That boy didn’t know how to treat a lady. You’re better off without ‘im.”

You didn’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Preston was gone and you were alive. So you nodded, “He wasn’t a good man. Always mad at me for somethin’. I-” You swallowed, throat tight, “I didn’t wanna be scared n’more.” That part was true.

He sat down next to you on the cot, “You don’t have t’be. Not with me.”

You glanced at him, nodding softly as you offered him your free hand. You could practically see his walls coming down as he rested his own hand on top of yours, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. 

But then his radio crackled to life, “We’ve got a one-eight-seven on east Hayesville Rd. Repeat, one-eight-seven on Hayesville Rd.”

Bodecker took the radio from his belt and replied, “I’m not far, I’ll check it out.” You almost swore out loud; you were so close. You could feel it. But he patted your hand and rose from the cot, “Alright little lady, I’ll be back later. Might be a bit, since I got a bit of mess to clean up.”

Your stomach lurched at the thought of Preston- his blood on the sidewalk. You wondered who’d found him. Had they identified him yet? Rumors traveled fast in Meade; had someone told his mother already? She would think you’d killed him. They all would. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again and Bodecker patted your head, “Don’t worry now, sweet pea. I’ll be back before y’know it.” He nodded at the sandwich on the cot beside you, “You’d best eat up sooner rather than later, else the mice’ll be after it.”

“Mice?’ you squeaked, eyes scanning the dirt floor frantically.

He chuckled, “They don’t do no harm. Don’t mind them none and they’ll do the same.” You drew your feet up off the floor, curling up on the cot with your arms wrapped around your knees, Bodecker’s eyes following your movement, “We’ll talk s’more when I get back. Think you can behave yourself until then?”

Your voice was muted, “Yes, Sheriff.”

“Lee’s just fine,” he flashed a smile that would have been charming under different circumstances. “Be back soon.” Then he disappeared up the steps and you heard the bolt on the other side slide into place. 

You felt a little sick, but you forced yourself to eat the sandwich, if only to keep the mice away. It seemed like the light kept them at bay, but you could hear sporadic scratching from the walls and it made your skin itch. You hated to keep your feet on the cot- they were filthy. But you couldn’t bring yourself to put them back on the floor. 

It seemed like it took ages for Lee to return; you’d replayed the night over in your head over a dozen times. You thought about what you’d do differently- what you could have done instead of running for that police cruiser. What if it had been a different officer? If anyone else had been patrolling the area, you’d be home. Likely a little worse for the wear, but you’d be back in your own bed and Preston would still be alive. It was your fault he was dead. 

Despite your grief, when you heard the crunch of tires, your heart leapt. You waited, listening for the sound of the bolt on the cellar door and the creak of the steps. “You still awake, peach?” He sounded tired.

Your voice was scratchy, “Uh-huh.”

He descended the stairs and glanced at the light, “I thought you might sleep a lil bit. You can turn the light out, you know.”

You avoided his gaze, “Don’t like the dark.”

“Mice, the dark- don’t like much, do ya?”

You weren’t really sure what to say. “What happened? With-”

“Y’aint gotta worry about that. I’m takin’ care of it.” His tone was hard; you thought it was a bad idea to push it right now.

“Sorry,” you cast your gaze down.

“S’alright,” he brushed your cheek with his thumb, “Had a lot to do today. Guess I’m a little cross.”

You raised your hand to brush his arm, but thought better of it, pulling back. But Lee urged you on, “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

"Sorry to be so much trouble." You slid your fingers over his forearm, avoiding eye contact as you did so.

He rested his hand on your ankle, "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, sweet pea. It's about time someone took care of ya." He brushed his thumb over the edge of your foot, seeming to notice how dirty they were. "What do ya say we go upstairs and get you cleaned up?"

You nodded, toying with the sleeve of his sheriff outfit. He patted your leg, "You gotta behave this time. No backtalkin'. None of this runnin' away business."

"Okay, Lee."

"If you're gonna be my girl, you gotta act like my girl. No reason to be shy."

You paused, but you nodded again, "Okay, Daddy."

At that, he smiled, "C'mon then." He stood and guided your hips down as you slid off the cot and steered you to the exit. "Hate to bring the cot down for nothin', but I'd rather you not need it." There was the hint of a veiled threat, but he squeezed your side as you made your way back up the stairs, pausing to re-lock the storm doors before going inside. 

He guided you down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. It was basic, as far as bathrooms go. The small sink could do with a wipe-down, dust and stray beard trimmings decorating the porcelain. Nothing appeared to be in a state of disrepair, but it seemed a little overdue for a cleaning. 

Lee lowered the toilet seat and lid, pressing you to sit while he fiddled with the knobs on the tub. “Tap’s a little temperamental- ya gotta be careful not to turn too far or it won’t go all the way off again.”

You nodded your understanding and a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor caught your eye. He followed your gaze, cheeks flushing a little, “Sometimes I like to relax in the tub with a drink. You know- after a tough day at work.”

“Sounds nice,” you agreed, nervous to step out of line again.

He smiled, “Maybe I’ll show ya sometime.” He rolled up his sleeves and tested the water before putting the stopper in, “Alright then, you climb on in. I’ll be back with somethin’ clean for ya to change into.” 

You glanced at the water filling the tub; he wanted you to be naked in front of him. With Preston, that only meant one thing. You bit your lip- it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Still, you took your time undoing the buttons on your dress and you were just climbing in when you felt his hand on your back, guiding you into the tub. 

Your cheeks flushed hot and you couldn’t help the way you jumped at the unexpected contact. Once you were in the water, you glanced at him, your heart hammering at the furrow between his brows.

“Sorry. ‘M a little nervous,” you squeaked. Your hands instinctively drifted down to cover yourself. 

“What’s to be nervous about? ‘S just a bath.” He sounded annoyed, but the weight in your chest lightened a little.

“You mean- you don’t wanna-” Your cheeks burned again; you couldn’t say it.

He sat on the toilet seat, looking frustrated, “You thought I wanted to-” He heaved a sigh, “You’re-” The words seemed to elude him, “Small, right?” 

You nodded; the stress of the past twenty-four hours had been pushing you further and further into a little headspace.

“Then now isn’t exactly the time, now is it?” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. But the way you stared at him answered the question he hadn’t asked and he sighed again, his posture slackening as the irritation drained from him, “You gonna let me clean ya up then?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Your voice was so clear, it surprised even you. But you were slowly realizing that Lee wasn’t like Preston. He was bad too, but in a different way- maybe in a way you didn’t have to be scared of.

With a satisfied nod, he moved to the floor, a groan escaping him as he knelt. But he quickly set to getting you cleaned up. “I’m a lotta things, but I never forced a lady to be with me.” You looked away; there were no good responses considering that you were here because he’d literally forced you. He seemed to realize the irony, huffing a little, “‘N I know what you’re thinkin’, but this is different. You’re here so I can keep ya safe, but you ain’t gotta do nothin’ with me that you don’t wanna. In fact, if you still wanna go after you get some sleep, I’ll drive ya back to town myself.”

You weren’t about to call his bluff, so you stayed quiet for the rest of your bath. Once you were dried and dressed in a much-too-large button down, Lee sat you down at the small table crammed in the corner of the kitchen and set to cooking. 

You fidgeted at the table while you watched him work, “Can I help?”

“You wanna help?”

“Well, usually-”

“Usually nothin’. Y’ain’t gotta worry ‘bout takin’ care of me. I’m a big boy, aren’t I? ‘S my job to take care ‘a you.”

Your voice was small, “I like helping.” This wasn’t entirely true; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d helped someone else in the kitchen. At home- your old home, you were responsible for everything. It felt wrong to have someone bustling around the kitchen while you sat on your butt. 

He glanced over his shoulder, “Alright, c’mon over then.”

You helped him prep dinner and watched him cook before the two of you sat down at the table to eat. It’d been a while since you’d done that too; ever since you’d gotten a television, Preston had wanted to eat in front of it. And none of this prepared you for how different it was to eat food you didn’t have to cook. 

A soft, blissful hum escaped your lips as you took your first bite, drawing a chuckle and a smile from Lee, “You don’t gotta grandstand for me, sweet pea. I’m no cook.”

But you shook your head, insisting through a full mouth, “‘S good.”

He seemed pleased at that, leaning back in his chair while he ate. Once you’d both finished eating, he pushed his chair back, spreading out and heaving a sigh. He patted his knee, “C’mere, sweet pea.”

It was incredible what a bath and a hot meal could do; you approached him without hesitation, coming to a halt between his knees with your hands clasped behind your back. He grasped your arms and pulled you in closer, so he could hoist you up on his knee. Cupping your chin, he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “That still hurt, peach?”

“A little.”

“We’ll get you patched up real soon, don’t you worry.” He squeezed your knee, “What d’you say we listen to the radio for a little bit before bed, hm?”

You nodded, sliding off his knee and following him to the sitting room. He shooed you off toward the sofa while he fiddled with the radio. “There we go,” the static crackle faded into some sort of program, the voices bantering with one another as Lee made his way over. 

The couch creaked a little as he sat down, throwing his arm over the back over the sofa. He closed his eyes, listening to the people talking. That didn’t interest you much, but you kept sneaking glances at him. He had his feet up on the coffee table and his head tipped back on the back of the cushions. He looked comfy. 

Inching closer was easy- the dip in the couch from where he sat allowed you to gradually get closer until your hip bumped his thigh, but still, he kept his eyes closed. You curled in close, resting your head on his belly.

 Still, you jumped a little when his arm slid down around your back, but he only stroked the back of your arm, “Don’t worry peach, Daddy’s got ya.”

He was warm and soft, his breathing making your head rise and fall. Your mind drifted, your thoughts going fuzzy. There was a voice in the back of your mind that said you should be ashamed of yourself- accepting this without more of a fight. But that voice was growing quieter as time went on, masked by the slow glow of being cared for and the feeling of peace that came with breathing easy for the first time in god knew how long. 

But once you fell asleep, that guilt seemed intent on being heard. You stood on the pavement again, feeling the dust of leaves on the soles of your feet. But this time, it was you Lee was aiming at. You squeezed your eyes closed when the shot rang out, it was just as loud as real life, but no bullet came. Opening your eyes, you realized you were holding Preston in front of you like a human shield, until he crumpled to the ground at your feet. 

The scream that left you burned your throat and it was then that you felt the cool tears on your cheeks, realizing it was no longer a dream. Your breath came in gasps as you scrambled up, finding yourself in an unfamiliar bed. But Lee’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into his grasp and he shushed you, “Hey sweet pea, it’s alright. ‘M right here- it was just a bad dream.”

But it wasn’t just a bad dream; that was real life. It had happened. You’d killed Preston and everyone knew it, even if they had the details muddled. And even if they’d let you return, there wasn’t anything left for you in Meade. So, you cried; you cried for Preston, and for his mom, and for your old life. Fat tears spilled over your cheeks as your shoulders heaved until you couldn’t breath, trembling in the bed under the weight of Lee’s arm. 

But he waited, murmuring soft reassurances as he laced his fingers through yours and held you close. When your sobs died down, leaving only ragged breathing, he gave your hand a squeeze, “It gets easier, peach. I promise.”

Even though it seemed unbelievable, you believed him. You had no reason not to; everything he’d done so far had been for you. So you turned over, burying your face in his chest and focusing on breathing. Lee’s breath grew steady and deep once again, his arm growing slack over your waist and though it took some time, you eventually fell back asleep.

[tiptapricock]

Bishang / Coldsoul headcanons please, with a pinch of angst please. :3

(ID in ALT)

Two of you (2 of you) and aBSOLUTELY!! BiShang nation let’s gOO!! (As usual playing fast and loose w timeline setting, also this is longer than the others since it was requested twice n also these two r harder for me to explain)

Send me some Mortal Kombat characters/ships for some nsfw hcs!

Ig warnings for: double sided extremely possessive and toxic sex, rough sex, violence as a metaphor/descriptive parallel for sex, and mild pet play kink

———

At their core they are a harsh chemical reaction; acid sparking on ice, steam bursting through bone

It is an acrid attraction, one Bi-Han has great distaste for and yet can’t seem to pull himself from

The sorcerer is… infuriating

He is a man who always acts as if he is one step ahead, mockingly magnanimous in his offers to the Lin Kuei and to Bi-Han himself. But he is also an alliance that would be foolish to forgo, and so… Bi-Han endures

They work together. Intimately. And every second is torture

Shang Tsung cannot keep his mouth shut or his hands to himself. A smug smirk flicks in and out of Bi-Han’s periphery at all times, the light drag of deft fingertips ghosting over his shoulders and waist as they pour over maps of Earthrealm and Outworld together, planning their strategies of attack

Shang Tsung comments on his fighting, his legacy, questions if Bi-Han will truly be able to beat his brother after all this time. He is snide with his inflection and yet never doubts him out loud, always slipping out from underfoot with mirth in his eyes and a gentle squeeze to Bi-Han’s neck

It is all a game to Shang Tsung. He finds it entertaining to press the right buttons, to pull the right strings, and watch as Bi-Han builds himself into overworked fury

Pent up. Cool to the touch, but humming under Shang Tsung’s palms

It is only a matter of time before he breaks, before the taut line of his jaw snaps into something unrestrained, and Shang Tsung awaits it eagerly

It does not take long for Bi-Han’s patience to run out

They are planning a strike on a resource shipment between the realms, and Shang Tsung makes some offhand comment about how the Lin Kuei may finally show their true honor again, if they pull this off well, when Bi-Han cuts him off with a growl

He shoves Shang Tsung roughly against the wall, crowding against his back and pinning his wrists with a grip that stings

Yes, this is what he was waiting for

“You will degrade me no longer, Sorcerer,” Bi-Han breathes into his ear, the cool mist rolling off his tongue making Shang Tsung shiver in anticipation

Shang Tsung only laughs, flicking his hair away as he turns to bare his neck further. “How intimidating,” he says bluntly. “I truly am terrified.”

Bi-Han growls again, and what follows is a flurry of ice and teeth

It is rough and angry and cold, no real sense or direction, only action driven by arousal and anger. It is nails digging into a fresh itch in an attempt to sate it, to quell the rising heat coiling in Bi-Han’s gut

Shang Tsung will not hold power over him, he should be at his feet, serving him, taking him, and Bi-Han will make sure to put him in his place

Shang Tsung is only amused, though, satisfaction rising in his chest as Bi-Han ruts himself against Shang Tsung’s ass, jagged nails digging cool lines into his open throat

He cannot help but laugh between pleased gasps as Bi-Han works himself up more, goading him on with his own grinds back and a hand skirting back to find his ribs

What good results, he thinks to himself

Their dynamic only devolves from there

Fervent and possessive, Bi-Han tries again and again to quell Shang Tsung’s repeated mockery, to remind him who, between the two of them, leads an army

Shang Tsung does not listen

Every time Bi-Han believes he has proved a point, has taught Shang Tsung where he truly belongs, the man only seems to enjoy it more, encouraging him to continue

“How good for you are for me.”

“Did you enjoy that, Grandmaster?”

“Smile, dear thing.”

No matter what he does—restraining him, yanking his hair, forcing him down to take Bi-Han in his mouth, claiming him at a brutal pace—Shang Tsung takes it all

There is no punishment with him, only reward, only an endless cycle of touches and smiles and subtle comments as if he is the one in control, as if he has the right to disobedience

It only fuels Bi-Han’s fervent desire to tear him apart even more

If not with his hands, then with his teeth

If not with his teeth, then with his cock

Shang Tsung will not defy him, Bi-Han will make him listen

He is an obstacle to break, a soldier to put in line

But to Shang Tsung, Bi-Han is… a challenge

He is a pet to domesticate, a wild thing to trap beneath his thumb

And what a wonderful pet at that

He reacts exactly how he should, easy to maneuver in his frustration, taking what he wants under the belief that it was ever his to want to begin with

And that is a good game to play for awhile. Shang Tsung enjoys the sex, the cold press of wet skin, the rough marks left on his shoulders and back when Bi-Han’s nails grow frosted and sharp. But everything grows old eventually

He finds himself bored, and decides to leave no misunderstandings between them about their dynamic

The next time Bi-Han tries to press him into bed, Shang Tsung moves around him and shoves him down himself

He restrains him before he can react, the chains glowing slightly around his wrists, tugging his arms above his head and tight to the headboard

“Now I know you’ve had your fun,” he says, adjusting his sleeves, “but let’s be honest, it’s grown repetitive. I don’t believe you’re learning.”

Bi-Han pulls against his restraints, his muscles taught as the chains shake. “What are you on about, sorcerer?”

Shang Tsung clicks his tongue, climbing onto the bed to straddle Bi-Han’s hips and tilt his chin up with a firm grip

“Now, now, pet. That is where the teaching comes in.”

Shang Tsung takes his time feeling Bi-Han’s body, undressing him, making him arch into his touches and shiver as his nails scrape over his sides

“There you are my dear…” he praises. “Very good.”

He kisses every inch of skin, his hand pushing over Bi-Han’s scalp to undo his hair, his movements precise and heated as he undoes their clothing and moves to ride him

It is a night to show Shang Tsung’s control, to leave no illusions about this, and it is not the last

He does not allow Bi-Han to take anymore, he is only taken, Shang Tsung maneuvering them each time to the same place until he understands

Training takes time, after all

Some days Bi-Han falls into it easier. He cannot deny the loss of control is alluring. The weight off his shoulders, the rush of Shang Tsung guiding his movements and praising him in equal measure. Other days, he is too irritated to sink away, and he keeps grit between his teeth until the inevitable finish

“You are mine, Bi-Han,” Shang Tsung murmurs against his mouth, tugging his lip between his teeth, every drop back down onto his cock deep and languid. “Do not forget that.”

“You will never own anything, Shang Tsung,” Bi-Han bites back. “I am no one’s property.”

“My dear…” Shang Tsung leans back to smile almost apologetically, grinding his hips down and hearing Bi-Han’s breath hitch beneath him. His hand trails idly to squeeze at his throat. “You have been for months.”

Bi-Han keens, and for only a moment his mind slips into a place that cedes control

But he snaps himself back

Not tonight. Tonight he is stubborn

Shang Tsung chuckles at the sight, and picks up his pace

It does not stop. They do not stop. The reaction continues, the push and pull, the mutual need to prove

They twist around each other, ever closer, straying shorter from each other’s side every day

There is a rush in their contact, in the sharpness they bring to each other

Bi-Han finds ways to slip around Shang Tsung’s defenses, to pin him down and use him as befits his place, and Shang Tsung reacts by learning, and taking Bi-Han back with his legs spread and his face shoved to the floor

It is sparks and heavy breathing, claws digging deep with the intent to wound in mutual, pulsing, destruction

It is a balance, a dance, one made with rough throats and thick fingers, with heated magic trailing lines of burning green over Bi-Han’s thighs, and icicles scraping over the expanse of Shang Tsung’s chest and stomach as their cocks rut slick against each other, their teeth bared to kill

They cannot break it, whatever this is. They cannot pull away. They cannot exist outside of one another, too far down their own paths of death and revenge, drawn to the addicting tug of pleasure and power they might divine from each other’s viscera

[clonecyare]

For the clone hc thing uhhhh because of the blue shadow virus, Rex's immune system had been compromised leading to him getting sick easier then other clones, but he hates to admit it when it happens so he tries to power through the sickness. It falls to torrent (mostly Kix) to bully him into resting when this happens XD

Protocol 57: Get The Captain To Rest

Summary: Rex’s immune system has never been the same since the Blue Shadow virus. Cue Torrent company holding an intervention.

Pairing: None

Tags: sick rex, caring brothers, torrent company being the best vod, rex is very loved, but also stubborn when he gets sick

Word Count: 922

A/N: This was fun to write! Mando’a translations at the end. Headcanon submitted as part of this post.

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

Rex gave a disgruntled sniffle as he walked down the halls of the Resolute, shivering lightly even under his full armour. In one hand he held a datapad and a stack of flimsi reports, in the other, a handful of tissues.

Ever since he contracted the Blue Shadow virus the previous year, Rex found he fell sick more often than most of his brothers, and that it hit him harder when he did. But, he was a soldier. He was the Captain of the 501st Legion and he had work to do. He wasn’t about to let a little sickness get in his way. They were at war, for Force sake!

Unfortunately, his vod’ikas had other plans.

----

Jesse was first to spot their ori’vod looking, well, for lack of a better word, osik. If it hadn’t been for the puffy eyes and coughing, the stumbling would have given him away. He tapped a few buttons on his wrist comm, tapping through to Five’s private comm link.

“Fives, we’ve got a protocol 57, spread the word.”

“Damn it, again?”

Fives responded almost immediately with a chuckle, and Jesse could hear shuffling on the other end, then a few beeps and Echo joined them. Before long, the rest of Torrent company was on the comm.

Fives chuckled as he and Echo made a quiet escape from the training room,

“Right, let's have a clean sweep this time, eh vod?”

Dogma laughed,

“Don’t worry, we got this. 34th times a charm, right?”

Tup elbowed him, and Fives continued.

“Echo and I are on point, we’ll run interference at the armoury and push him up to the bridge. Hardcase, you find him and get him to us.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

Jesse rolled his eyes as the rest of his brothers recited their jobs. “I’ll get word down to Kix. Good luck di’kuts.”

----

Rex was idly rubbing his temples as he headed for the mess hall, too engrossed in his datapad to notice Hardcase approaching him at first. Engrossed may be the wrong word, when really he was just trying to make the words stop moving.

“Captain…” Hardcase jogged to catch up with him. “Sir, are you alright?”

Rex snapped out of it, turning to face the trooper. He cleared his throat, balling his tissues in his palm.

“Hardcase, I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“You're headed for the mess and lunch finished an hour ago.” He nodded to the empty mess hall, beginning to guide him away and down the brightly lit hallway. “Are you sure you’re alright? Echo was looking for you to oversee an inventory in the armoury but I can help him if you’d like. I think Kix is still down in medical if-”

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Hardcase.”

The man just shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. “I have the next training session, I’ll walk with you to the armoury, Sir.”

Rex loved all his vod, really, he did. But he did not have the energy for Hardcase right now. Still, he powered through, nodding his head.

Hardcase did. not. stop. talking. and gesturing energetically the entire time. He saluted the Captain as he stopped outside the armour, where Fives and Echo were conveniently just leaving, standing to attention.

He gave them a wink and left them in the company of their now exhausted Captain.

Rex waved his hand to put the arc troopers at ease, nodding inside the inventory and coughing.

“You needed me to do an inventory?”

Echo shook his head, “It’s alright Sir, Fives assisted me.”

“Are you alright, Captain? We can handle the bridge report this evening, why don’t you turn in early? You must be exhausted-” Fives tried, maybe they’d get lucky.

“I’m quite alright, boys.” Rex said suspiciously. “Why do you all keep asking if I’m alr-”

Rex cut himself off with a rather large sneeze, followed by a coughing fit. Fives grinned, giving Echo a look behind his ori’vod’s back.

“I think Tup was looking for your Sir, you might want to catch him on your way to the bridge, it seemed important.”

Rex suppressed his complaints and rubbed his temple, nodding. “Thanks vod.”

He set off again, and Echo was straight on his comm.

“Dogma, he’s all yours.”

----

On his way to find Tup on the bridge, Rex caught Dogma sprinting at the other side of the hallways, a stack of flimsi in his hand. Rex wasn’t in the mood for this, groaning and rubbing his temples.

“Dogma, what did I say about run-”

“Sorry Sir, I wa- wooooah-”

Dogma skidded to a halt in an attempt to salute his Captain and ‘tripped’, landing on the cold durasteel floor and clutching his ankle.

Rex kneeled beside him, shaking his head with a sigh. “Dank farrik, not again. Come on, let’s get you to Kix.”

Dogma let Rex help him up and limped all the way to the medical bay where Jesse was standing with Kix, grinning.

Kix just rolled his eyes and shooed Dogma away, who promptly stood on his perfectly uninjured feet and joined Jesse at the door.

“What the-”

Kix pointed to the nearest cot. “On the cot, Sir, you look like bantha shit.”

Rex opened his mouth to protest, and was hit with a fit of coughing. Scowling, he resigned himself to his fate and climbed up onto the cot. He shot a look at Jesse and Dogma, standing smugly in the doorway wearing matching smirks.

“Di’kuts.”

Jesse and Dogma just grinned as Hardcase, Fives, Echo and Tup’s heads appeared one by one, sticking around the doorframe.

“We love you too, ori’vod.”

---

Vod’ikas - little brothers

Ori’vod - big brother

Osik - shit

Di’kuts - idiots

Vod - brother

Dank farrick - fuck

[parkersroses]

sunflowers. | harry styles.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (dad!harry, husband!harry)

summary: harry is very much in love with his little family.

word count: 2724 words

warning(s): a sprinkle of sexual mentions and a whole lot of fluff

disclaimer: gif is not mine. 

author’s note: hey there. been a while. i missed writing here and the reason i haven’t been doing that is because i was focused on finishing school. of course now, i still am busy with school, having to start my degree. but i miss writing so i thought i’d make this little piece here. it’s my first harry styles fic! quite exciting and nerve-wrecking for me. but as always, leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed this, also constructive comments do help me to improve my writing and i do want to be better at it. and reblog (!) it really helps writers out in creating content for you so pls do so if you like it. all the love x

She pushes her cart down the aisle as she browses through the shelves of delicious snacks. She already has picked out a bunch of biscuits and juice boxes when her phone rings, making her jump a bit. She takes out her phone and smiles as the screen showcases the contact name ‘lovie’ with a picture of her husband. She accepts the call as she continues to stroll down the aisle. 

“Hi, lovie!” she answers happily. “Hello, darling. Hope everything’s alright there,” Harry answers back. She giggles as she stops by the fruits and vegetables section. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the one that’s looking after the house?” She questions about Harry’s intention of calling her. He chuckles through the phone. “Pfft, don’t be silly, love. I got everything under control here,” He says. She imagines how he is probably pouting a bit on the other side of the phone as she playfully rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hun. Now, what do you need?” She asks, figuring that Harry has some last minute additions to the grocery. Harry hums and thinks as Y/N picks out some fresh salads. “Could maybe buy more bread for us?” He asks, which confuses Y/N as she thought she has already bought bread for them.

“Harry, didn’t I already buy those, like, two those days ago?” She questions as she starts picking out some fruits. She picks out two packets of strawberries and grapes each and one honeydew melon. She feels as though Harry is hesitating to answer back through the phone. “Yeah, but.. I got hungry so I finished most of them,” He says as though he is embarrassed by admitting this to his wife. Y/N only giggles at this information. 

“You and your bread. Any kind that you fancy this time?” She asks as she makes her way to the wet area of the supermarket. “Just the usual ones. Oh, and the whole wheat bread if there’s any,” He requests. Y/N hears the sound of cutleries clanking in the background, though she brushes it off, thinking it is just Harry cleaning the kitchen. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah? I’m nearly done here,”

“Of course, darling. Bubs and I will be waiting,” he says, and Y/N smiles at the thought of her little family at home. The couple say their goodbyes and hang up. Y/N makes a note to herself to get some bread after picking out some salmon before checking herself out of the supermarket. 

After over a year of marriage, the both of them decided to start a family of their own. It excited her to think about Harry with their own child, knowing very well how good he is with children in general. They were both overjoyed by the news that they will be expecting a baby girl, more so of Harry than herself. He was ecstatic to be a father throughout the pregnancy journey. Even on the occasional dates they would go on, he would always make sure they picked some of the most private areas, paparazzi and fans-free. It was an important time for them and they wanted to keep things on the low most times. 

Now, their baby girl Rosie is six months old and is just the purest ball of sunshine and happiness. Harry and Y/N swore that their hearts grew ten times bigger upon first laying their eyes on her baby. Of course after she was born, it was tiring enough for them to handle a baby as they were new to being parents. Though, they managed to get the hang of it after some sleepless nights and cleaning up baby vomit. 

All of that which leads up to this moment where Y/N is buying some groceries for the family. Harry suggested they should take little Rosie out for a picnic. Although it was rather difficult to go outside without them getting papped and stalked, they luckily had a backyard that was big enough to have their little picnic together. It was all fenced up with a couple of flowers planted. It was ideally the perfect place to relax and have some family gatherings. 

Y/N quickly gets home in time for dinner, not before buying some Chinese food for her and Harry. She unlocks the door and quickly rushes by the living room and into the kitchen to put the heavy bags of groceries down. Harry, who had been folding the laundry and entertaining his daughter, notices his wife and calls out to her. “Hi, honey!” Baby Rosie, who has been laying on a plush little blanket, perks her head up and excitedly babbles after her father’s voice. “Hey, lovie! Give me a minute to put these away!” Y/N yells back at him.

Harry hums and puts away the last of the clean laundry in a basket before laying on his side next to Rosie. He lets his baby grab a hold of his large hand. He watches as Rosie puts his tiny little hand on the center of his palms, smiling widely as she looks at him and babbles about in baby language. It’s not long until Y/N comes in with a bag of Chinese food and some baby food. “C’mon, let’s eat, my loves,” She gently says as she sets the food down on the coffee table. Rosie holds out her arms to her mother; much to her delight, Y/N carries her up and sets her down on her lap. 

Y/N multitasks eating her dinner and feeding Rosie throughout dinner time. The faint sounds of a Fleetwood Mac album playing on the vinyl player filling the background. “So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s picnic?” He says as takes a bite off his spring roll. Y/N shrugs and wipes the excess baby food off Rosie’s mouth. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll make those smoked salmon sandwiches that you like.”  

Harry playfully moans in delight. “You mean, those sandwiches you make are award-winning, darling,” he says, which makes Y/N giggles at her silly husband. “Well, I hope they are, Mr. Styles. Would be shameful if the salmon I bought just went to waste.” Little Rosie eventually finishes her food and decides to play around with her mother’s hair. She stares and strokes on Y/N’s hair, gently tucking it at times. The couple smiles widely at the sight of their daughter. “You doing alright, bubs?” Rosie merely stares at her parents with her big green eyes, not understanding their question. It still amazes Y/N how much of Harry’s features Rosie inherited. “Surely you weren’t a handful with your daddy this evening, were you?” Y/N playfully questions. 

Harry chuckles and takes Rosie out of Y/N’s arms. “No, she wasn’t. However, she wasn’t helpful in helping daddy with the laundry, were you princess?” He says as he lifts his baby girl above both of the couple’s heads, eliciting the sweetest laugh from Rosie. He does this a few more times until he stops since he didn’t want her to get dizzy and throw up. 

It was a very domestic moment for them. Just the three of them, having dinner, smiles and laughter all around. It is moments like this where Harry prefers the simplicity of life, in the comfort of his little family. “Think it’s time for someone to go to dreamland, don’t ya think?” Y/N says as she caresses Rosie’s soft cheeks with her finger, Rosie obviously showing her tiredness with her droopy eyes. Harry nods in agreement, already packing up to empty food boxes to throw away. 

“You wanna go up first, love? Nurse Rosie a bit. I’ll clean this up quickly.” Y/N insists on helping out Harry after he’s taken care of the house while she went to buy groceries. Though, Harry insists back on helping to clean, saying it’s no big deal. Without much of an argument, Y/N lifts up Rosie from his arms and heads up, not before giving Harry a loving kiss of appreciation. 

After nursing her, Rosie quickly falls asleep in her mother’s arms, lulling to the faint sounds of her heartbeat as she rests her little head on her chest. Harry soon joins in the room and he stops to admire the sight he has become all too familiar with. Just the sight of the woman he loves, carrying and rocking their baby daughter to sleep, a feeling of warmth and peace fills his entire heart. Sometimes, he can’t believe how lucky he was to have ended up in this position and he always thanks the universe for blessing him a family that he loves with his entire soul. 

Rosie gets tucked in her cot, a soft purple blanket covering her. Harry and Y/N go back into their room soon after. Harry lays on his bed with his eyes closed, humming a random tune while Y/N picks out her nightwear, which turns out to only be one of Harry’s T-shirts and underwear. “Can you believe she’s six months old now?” Harry asks out of the blue. Y/N turns around and stands between his legs. He sits up and gently pulls Y/N in by the waist. She runs her hands through his curls, he sighs in delight of the feeling. “Time flies, huh?” 

“Soon she’s gonna start walkin’, runnin’, she’ll become quite the troublemaker,” he jokes and pouts at Y/N. She chuckles at his silliness. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” She smiles at him lovingly as she strokes his cheeks. Harry smiles back and puts his head on her stomach, giving it a light kiss through the dress she’s wearing. 

“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” he mumbles against her stomach. She looks down at him with a confused expression. “You carried her for a whole nine months and went through so much to deliver her to us. So, thank you. And I love you, darling. I’m so lucky.”

Y/N feels her breath hitched at his confession and she smiles at him. She leans down and kisses him hard. Sometimes, she thinks that she is the lucky one. She managed to find someone who loves and support her unconditionally, even through the late night snacks she had while pregnant with little Rosie. Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and pulls her closer to him. She feels his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. And who is she to deny making out with her incredibly talented and beautiful husband as she opens her mouth, making the kiss more passionate. Harry hears a soft moan from her and swears he feels shivers running up his spine.

They break away after feeling the oxygen running out of their lungs and lay their foreheads against each other’s, breathing heavily. “I love you, too,” she breathes out. They both smile widely at each other, feeling like teenagers in love. She pecks his lips one last time before pulling away from him. She starts undressing as she makes her way to the ensuite bathroom, Harry watching her every move as his mouth gapes open slightly. 

God, my wife is so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He continues to admire Y/N as she undresses until she’s fully nude. He gulps as he feels the blood rushing towards his lower region.

Harry’s cut out from his thoughts as a piece of fabric flungs to his face. He grabs it from his face and he chokes on his saliva upon seeing Y/N laced lavender-coloured underwear. He looks up to his wife leaning against the bathroom door, every inch of her on display for him and him only.

“Mind joining me for a shower, baby?” she smirks as she quickly heads in the shower. 

When he hears the shower turn on, Harry jumps up from the bed and quickly takes off his clothes, tripping on his sweatpants on his way to join his wife in the shower.

━

Rosie giggles loudly and she reaches out for the blue butterfly in front of her. Y/N smiles at this soft moment and holds up her digital camera to take a picture. The sky was a nice shade of blue and clouds looked like cotton candy hanging above. The flowers in the garden were blooming and Harry managed to pick out two sunflowers for his sunflowers. It seemed like the perfect day.

Harry comes out with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and grapes. He sits down next Y/N on the blanket they laid out, giving a soft kiss on her forehead, before looking over at his daughter. “What’s that, bub?” he asks Rosie in a seemingly excited voice. Rosie squeals and babbles to her father as she points out to the blue butterfly fluttering in front of her. 

“That’s right, bubs! That's a butterfly!” Harry picks her up and puts her on his lap. Y/N is already munching away on the strawberries. Harry opens his mouth to her, implying that he wants to be fed with the red fruits, Y/N rolls her eyes at his silliness but complies as she puts it in his mouth, plucking out the stem. As she does this, little Rosie looks at the exchange and opens her mouth wide, copying Harry. The couple merely laughed at the little girl’s behaviour. 

“You want a strawberry, Rosie?” Y/N smiles as picks one out, she bites lightly on the tip of it so Rosie could have the smallest bite of the fruit. Rosie whines and reaches out for the tiny piece. “Calm down, you bugger. Might wanna say ‘please’ to mommy first, yea?” Harry says to her gently as he rubs her back.

Of course, Rosie wouldn’t know how to say any words at all yet, so she babbles in her baby language and whines to be fed. “Think that might be ‘please’, love,” he says jokingly to his Y/N. 

“Well, who am I to say no to the cutest girl ever?” She jokes back and puts the tiny piece of strawberry in Rosie’s mouth, her mouth slightly stained from the juices. Harry wipes it off with a napkin and leans back on his arms, admiring the beautiful day outside. He takes in the clean summer air as he listens to his daughter babbling about to her mother, Y/N merely nods back as if she understands and talks in the most gentle voice to her. 

Harry sees Rosie picking up the large sunflower he picked out, her little fingers brushing against the yellow petals. He takes a look at Y/N and as he sees her smile, he thinks back about how lucky he is to have them two. There is not a day where Harry was never in awe of the love and passion Y/N gives to the family and he thinks of how he couldn’t possibly love his Rosie more every day. 

He breaks off the other sunflower from its stem and tucks it behind Y/N’s ear. She looks up and blushes at the gesture.  “You okay, H?” she asks. 

Harry nods and smiles at her. “I just really love you,” he says as he cups Y/N’s cheek, stroking it gently. 

Y/N feels the heat rising up to her cheeks. There is not a day where she’ll ever stop being in love with the man in front of her. She holds the hand that’s resting on her cheek and kisses it softly. “I really love you too,”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss or two. They both smile widely at each other, radiating the same amount of love, if not more, that they have for each other. Rosie squeals and claps her chubby hands together as she watches the sweet exchange between her parents. They both laugh at her cuteness. “And we love you too, my little love!” Y/N exclaims to her as she cups her cheeks and plants many kisses all over her face, making Rosie squeal in delight. Harry laughs and smiles at the sight. 

Life certainly feels good to him. Surrounded by the loves of his life, there’s no place or moment Harry would exchange this beautiful day with them. 

[writing-in-april]

Kid.

Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Summary: Reader can’t get Poe to stop calling her kid so she’s tries a new method of getting him to stop.

A/N: Hey guys!!! Here’s my sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April— I had a really fun time writing this all out lol- I feel like it’s very telling when reading this what I like lol 😂 I hope y’all enjoy it and I’m always looking for feedback or really anything my followers want to talk about- you can send me an ask here- I’d love to hear from y’all 🥰

Warnings: 18+, Age Gap (never specified specifically how large it is), Reader overreacts just a bit, Sub Poe, Smut, Hate fucking, Dry fucking, Oral sex (M receiving), Choking, Edging, Unprotected sex, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.4K

Your nerves were alight with frustration and annoyance, your jaw clenched tight enough to give you a small pressure headache. Poe seemed to always know exactly how to push your buttons perfectly. He knew- he knew how you felt about the nickname he had chosen for you. You didn’t know why he continued to call you that, maybe it was just to push your buttons because he thought it was funny or worse because he actually thought of you as inferior to him.

Despite your arguing thoughts trying to tell you that Poe is only doing this to get under your skin, you couldn’t help but get angry every time he said it. You knew he respected all of the younger pilots, maybe he just thought you weren’t as skilled- even though he had complimented your flying skills many times.

You had asked him not to use the nickname over a million times it seemed. It boiled your blood to hear it, making you feel like he didn’t respect you fully because you were somewhat younger than him.

“Hey Kid!” He shouted out as you retreated away from him in pure anger. It didn’t really matter what you had been arguing about, your anger boiled over as soon as you heard the nickname out of his mouth.

You had both just returned from a mission together along with the rest of your squadron that Poe commanded. You were exhausted and Poe just had to get under your nerves at the prime time.

Stomping from the hangar all the way to your rooms was somewhat of a long walk, you encountered people but you brushed them off as quickly as you could. There was no doubt that Poe was hot on your heels, probably in an attempt to make amends. Though every time he promised that he wouldn’t say it again- he of course broke that promise.

Both of your rooms were in the exact same hallway on base, one reserved for upper personnel. If he cared to acknowledge it he’d notice that you’re not the kid he claims that you are, you’re upper personal for fucks sake. You stomped off down the hallway not caring if he followed you or not, you’d just shut the door in his face if he tried to continue.

He did in fact follow you as you suspected, not for the purpose of going to his own room right next to yours. He followed you to continue the argument.

“Come on don’t walk away I just want to talk!” You scoffed, he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to argue. Paying him no mind you pressed the key card in far too hard to woosh open the door to your room.

Somehow Poe managed to scoot in through the door frame just as you were going to close it. Your fists clenched in anger, not wanting to turn to look at him as it would only make the fire in your belly rage more.

“Well- Kid you gonna tell me why you stomped away from me?” He was hunched over breathing heavily from chasing you down. You wanted to stomp your foot in indignation over frustration due to the fact that he absolutely did know why you had stomped away from him. You whipped around to face him finally, annoyed that he was in your room now- just another thing to add to the list of grievances.

“Stop calling me Kid!” He chuckled in response to your fury, just like he always did, acting like your anger was completely unreasonable. Maybe it was, but you were tired of him going against what you had specifically requested.

He was about to retort after he finished chuckling, his mouth opening in a way that was obviously going to become a sassy remark.

You grabbed the front of his flight suit in anger and pushed him onto the cot you slept on every night. Anger was radiating through you, with no intention of abating, you needed to get rid of it somehow.

Instead of screaming like you normally would have you did something you never thought you’d have the guts to do, you kissed him. The kiss wasn’t filled with sweetness, it was hot, heavy, and full of your frustration. He definitely tried to overpower the kiss, yet eventually accepted defeat- maybe for the first time in his life.

“Do you want this? I won’t be gentle.” You asked while holding the front of his flight suit, bringing his face close to yours and holding eye contact. He nodded with a gulp and you released your grip on his orange suit. Nonchalantly you then asked while moving to close the door to your room, “What’s your safe word?”

“I use the color system.” You nodded in confirmation, coming back after shutting the door so you could escape prying eyes. When you moved to straddle his hips you could see his eyes darken further, pupils blown wide in lust.

To start your journey to ruining him you rested your still clothed center to rest right over his growing bulge. Starting with slow light movements seemed to frustrate him, you didn’t care. He wanted to contest your dominance over him, but not too much as he did not move to touch you, waiting for your permission. The only time he allowed himself to move was when you captured his lips into a bruising kiss, bringing his face up to meet yours by your fingers tangled into his inky curls.

He whimpered underneath you as you ground your hips harder into his bulge. There were still many layers of clothing you had yet to take off, you could still firmly feel how hard he was through them all. He tried to reach up to grab your hips, but you didn’t let him get very far. Instead of letting him touch you you took both of his hands and pinned them above his head.

“Maybe I would let you touch me if you behaved.” The sneer in your voice made Poe flinch away and whimper again, though he did not say anything. You then tried to goad him into speaking, “Are you going to apologize to me?”

Despite his pathetic little whimpers that showed you his submission to you he still refused to budge. His head shook back and forth, telling you no to your request. In response to his refusal you scoffed and didn’t give him the satisfaction of a stinging retort for now. Instead you started to grind into him harder with a faster pace that had him close to falling apart in his flight suit.

When you could feel him starting to approach his release, his cock twitching in the flight suit, your movements stopped abruptly. You had to remove one of your hands from where you had them pinned on the cot to slap it over his mouth when a broken cry that would have been too loud tried to escape.

You chuckled darkly at his desperate look, his eyes watering a little, “If you would just apologize I would let you finish.”

He tried to make a noise, but underneath the pressure of your hand it barely made a sound. When I removed my hand his bratty attitude re-emerged, “I won’t apologize.”

His indignation made your jaw tick, he must have been looking for a punishment at this point. It was now your job to make sure you gave him one that he wouldn’t enjoy, otherwise it wouldn’t be a punishment.

You released his hands so you could begin to undress him, his flight suit had a small wet spot on it from his precum. It made you wonder how soaked his boxers were underneath. They were just as wet as you expected. You run your fingers around the spot, making his hips buck a little which you stopped by pushing them down with your other hand.

When you then peeled his boxers off of him along with his flight suit you decided to give him a taste of what he wanted, planning on ripping it away again just as he was about to finish.

You shuffled your body down his until your mouth was resting over his cock, it looked painful to you. Flushed a deep red with precum leaking down his shaft and was hot and heavy in your hands. You didn’t have any plans on letting him finish anytime soon, you couldn’t imagine he could stand it much longer before breaking and giving you an apology.

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

He did follow that direction at least, leaving his hands by his side and fisting the sheets. As a slight reward or even more of a punishment from a different perspective you let him feel your mouth around him. Suckling the tip slightly made his toes curl, but he still did not say anything. Maybe he would be harder to break then you thought.

You began to work on him with more effort, using your mouth and hands wrapped around his length to send him close to the edge again.

“Please!” He begged as you took him as far back into your throat as you could, gagging a little each time it hit the back of your throat.

You pulled off him for a second to answer his plea, “You know what to say if you want to cum.”

His head flopped back at your words and a groan of frustration came out. You worked him up to the edge two more times- he still wouldn’t break even when you were goading him while sucking on his balls and stroking his cock.

You were absolutely soaked, your own arousal getting frustrating. Damn him and his stubbornness you thought. Fuck it- maybe he’d break when he was finally inside you.

In your anger you ripped the zipper of your flight suit as you tore it off of your own body. You weren’t looking forward to explaining why you needed a new one to Leia tomorrow. For now you were focused on getting rid of the ache between your thighs while punishing Poe further.

A collective groan came out of the two of you as you sunk down on his cock slowly. You were so wet from just the anticipation that you could have taken him perhaps a bit faster, but the wrecked look on his face was even better. You relished in his desperation as you began to create a steady pace, still not as fast as he probably wanted you to go. He did follow at least one of your rules, keeping his hands fisted in his sheets. It made his knuckles lighten from how hard he was gripping them, showing how desperate he was to not let you win.

He was nearing his breaking point, you were sure of that. His whimpers had gotten even higher pitched when you started to swivel your hips in a certain way. Tears were also prickling at the corners of his eyes almost spilling down his tanned cheeks that were slick with sweat. He still had some fight in him though apparently, he was resilient as steel.

“Go faster- Kid.” Oh- he definitely knew what he was doing. He stoked your anger on purpose, finding it funny that you got so riled up over a simple nickname.

In your anger your hand then wrapped around his throat and with each bounce you spoke to punctuate your point, “Don’t.” “Call.” “Me.” “Kid.”

His legs were shaking hard underneath you, thoroughly overwhelmed by your all encompassing touch. You had complete control over him and his finish. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to finally apologize but couldn’t get the words out. Deciding to tease him further and test his limits a bit by saying, “Are you finally going to apologize?”

There was a slight pause in conversation while you continued to keep your pace going, waiting patiently for a response. Your own orgasm was beginning to rise within you. You could finish now, torturing him even further by feeling you spasm around him in pleasure, but you wanted to finish together if possible so you tried to be as patient as possible. Just when you were about to prompt him again he finally found the words you had been looking for.

“Yes! I- I won’t callll you kid again, I’m sorry!” The apology that you had been waiting for was so broken that it took you a second for you to understand what he had said. Your hips slowed their movements for a moment to then lean forward while tightening the hold you had on his neck slighting. You dragged your tongue from the bottom of his neck to the bottom of his ear before then whispering into his ear, “Thank you, you can cum now- and touch me.”

You clenched around him when his hands gripped your hips hard, using them as leverage to begin to thrust into you hard. Your own orgasm washed over you when after the last few thrusts he rubbed your clit before filling you.

After you had both rode out your releases you slumped forward onto Poe, trying to catch your breath. His fingers moved to slowly trace up your spine, which helped relax you.

“Hopefully I won’t have to teach you a lesson about what nicknames you can use on me again.” You breathed out with a chuckle, moving your own hand to trace his skin.

“I don’t know- I kinda liked the lesson you taught me.” A cheeky smirk was most definitely on his face as he said those words, which made you lightly tap his shoulder.

You clenched around his softening cock that was still inside you as retaliation, causing him to groan. You started to roll your hips at a languid pace, just so you could hear his whimpers again, this time from being still slightly sensitive from his first release. His cock was becoming hard inside you again, almost ready to go for a second round, “Do I need to teach you another lesson?”

You did have to admit though that the nickname was growing on you, not that you were going to tell Poe that anytime soon.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (I will keep trying to fix this 😡). New tag lists (no one has asked to be on these yet)

Oscar Isaac Characters: Poe Dameron/SW:

[barnes-dameron]

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid 

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral  

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[the-silentium]

Featuring a Dimwit

Masterlist

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 3236 words

Warnings: Mmmh. None. 

A/N: This series begins after the saga “After the Nightmares”. If you’re new, you might want to start with Good Night, Good Luck if you want to understand what’s going on.

Taglist: @clone-rambles  / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone              

_________________

It had been going on for a bit less than a month. The back and forth of pranks between each and every male member of the Bad Batch, passing from moving around one's equipment up to tripping others or painting insults on an inattentive brother's backplate. 

No one ever admitted they did the prank and you often took the blame despite never participating when you couldn't contain your laughter and no one was able to back you up on your whereabouts of the day. It wasn't a bother to be the scapegoat for whoever really pulled the pranks- your best bet was on Wrecker, although some tricks had more of a Tech vibe, like the time Crosshair's modulator had such a high pitched tone that the civilians mistook him for a female- the pranks were overall pretty entertaining. When they weren't targeted at you, that is. 

You could have murdered the one who put Knytixes under your bedsheets. Thank the gods, you avoided jumping right onto the 6 crawling insects due to the light illuminating the barracks since you were the first one who headed to bed, although it didn't stop your hand from squashing one under your palm in inadvertence. The nearly empty room filled with clones in record time as your surprised scream resonated through the closed door and bounced between the ship's walls. Since no one took its responsibilities, you threatened everyone's masculinity and claimed a spot in Hunter's cot while Tech used jars to take away the remaining insects that Back-Up hadn't had time to eat. 

The intensity of the pranks dropped in the following days and none were meant for you, leading you to believe that the Batcher who hid the disgusting critters in your bed understood that he went too far or was too scared for his balls. 

Hunter was resting after a tiring morning of paperwork, Tech was fumbling on his datapad with this concentrated gaze that only he could have while reading endless oceans of information on whatever was his interest at the moment, Back-Up was lounging on his shoulder to absorb the warmth radiating from his blacks and Wrecker cheered you up as you competed against Crosshair on who could reach the top of the tree the fastest. 

"This needs to stop!" Hunter had barged out of the Marauder in a yell, quickly breaking your concentration 10 meters above the ground and only 2 away from your objective. 

The quick glance you allowed yourself to throw his way was a bad choice. The shock of seeing the right side of his face blackened out to mirror the tattoo on his left side caused you to grab the wrong tree limb, a smaller one that couldn't possibly sustain your weight and would have sent you flying down if only your right hand wasn't firmly wrapped around a thicker branch. 

Crosshair won the competition and you were dangling in the air by one hand, huffing in defeat. You knew he'd wear a victorious smirk for the remaining hours of the day, you had annoyed him so much about being a better climber in the hope to have a short playful time with him. It was frustrating to know that you were winning right before Hunter came in the picture and broke your focus. 

You may be a better climber, but Crosshair definitely was better at staying focussed on his task and ignoring each and every distraction. 

"Oh that's a good one!" Wrecker's laugh sent him knocking against the tree, the resulting vibrations threatening the reliability of your grip. If only you were wearing your fingerless gloves, the bark of the tree wouldn't bite your skin as much and you wouldn't be tempted to let go. "Don't know who thought of that but this is the best idea of the month!" 

"It wasn't me." Tech immediately added to dissipate any suspicions, not even bothering to look up from his datapad while doing so. 

"Not me either!" You shouted while reaching for the branch with your opposite hand and pulled yourself up to sit and give a break to the sensitive skin of your palms. "And I was with Cross the whole day." A grunt of approval resonated behind you, even though it was completely unnecessary and clearly didn't reach Hunter. Or maybe it did. 

The sniper took a seat next to you, one hand keeping his balance with a branch in its grip while the other kept you close by your waist. 

Once again, no one took its blame. You wondered if you should laugh about it or not. The guys- because it really never participated in these shenanigans and you were certain it wasn't Back-Up either- always managed to never leave clues and never get caught in the act and you were deeply admiring their skills. They weren't top commandos for nothing! 

"No. More." Was Hunter pissed? No. He was fuming. "Or next time we're on base I'll register everyone for a thorough medical exam." 

Oh the ultimate punishment was out. The prank war ultimately reached its end on a fine sunny afternoon as there was no way it could compete against a complete medical exam, the displeasure that came with the variety of tests surpassed by far the good laugh of pranking someone, and thus, you knew no trooper in this team would dare pull another trick. 

"C'mon Sarge. Not that."Wrecker was the first to complain about the consequences, quickly followed by Tech who stated that all your physical health were optimum. 

"Yes that, and I don't care if we're all at our top. The smallest of trick on anyone of this team will get all your asses in the medbay." He finished in a do not test me tone and returned inside the ship to scrub the ink off his face. 

The muscles pressed against your side were now rock hard, same as the grip slowly tightening around your waist. 

"Don't worry." A peck on his cheek was enough to take his mind off the needles and noisy machines. "No one will dare pull one if that's where it'll get us." The creases between his scrunched eyebrows relaxed with a small nod, knowing just like you that his brothers would not play with that fire. 

You would all be fine. 

______

"I'll kill the one who pulled this one." You fumed in the examination room, knee bouncing under your hand as you waited for the doctor to come back and dismiss you. 

The wait allowed you to think of a plan to finally know who was pulling those jokes and make them regret it. Multiple ideas grew in your mind, one for each member. The planning got interrupted momentarily by the clone who entered your room to inform you that you were in perfect health. Your tests were flawless just like your bloodwork and he couldn't see why your CO requested such a rigorous examination. 

"Someone pissed in his cereal." You jumped off the table and shrugged at the bewildered look on the man's face before taking off in the direction of the hangar. 

It wasn't nearly as drastic as someone peeing in a bowl, but it certainly was just as insulting. 

That last one was personal to the team and you couldn't get how a member of the Batch could do this. It just didn't make sense. Them who constantly fought against the snide remarks, disdainful gazes and harsh behavior, could not possibly have degraded themselves like that.

You quickly boarded the ship after successfully ignoring all the regs watching you speed walking to your destination. Hunter was there with the rest of the boys, watching the insignia over the door like the name of the culprit was written somewhere in it. 

You pushed the button to close the railing and keep this event private, before joining the silent half-circle of irritated men glaring at the paint tainting the wall and every so often glaring at the others in the room like they were the ones who did it. Well, one of them did. No one wanted to admit it. 

Clone Force 69 was painted in thick black letters right over the door for everyone inside to see. At least, the rest of the base didn't know. 

Who the hell would write that? That's what you expected from the regs, not from your own team. 

"Hope y'all appreciated the trip in the sterile field." The grumble on your right opened the door for a concert of groans. "Now the person who did this better say it now."

"But I told you it couldn't be any of us!" Arms open wide at his sides, Tech repeated exactly what he did before Hunter contacted the medbay to order four medical exams. "We all went to bed at the same time and all exited the barracks together. No one got up during the night!" 

You could testify for yourself and Hunter for that. Really, it was unfair that you had to endure the exam, but then it would have been unfair for the other Batchers. At least this time you weren't a suspect. 

"Apparently someone did because it did not write itself." 

"Even the calligraphy doesn't match anyone's!" He pointed out and proceeded to tell how the curves and spacing didn’t correspond to either himself, Wrecker, or Crosshair. 

You perked up at the new information. The calligraphy. It did not match any of the Batcher? But it was so familiar. How could you know these harsh cursive letters if it wasn't the clones'? You never saw anyone else's writing as they all used datapads around here. 

Clone Force 69. Why- it sounded familiar too. Something at the back of your mind bugged you. You knew that. 69. You used to laugh at these references all the time with him. Somehow, when you read it, it was his voice that rang out in your head.

"Guys." The word nearly didn't pass your mouth as the usual tightness in your throat manifested itself like every time you thought about him. "That's Kayden's style. It's his writing too." 

"Took you all long enough! Miss me motherfuckers?" The sight of the very same blue-eyed brunette who disappeared into your arms more than a year and a half ago, magically appearing out of thin air in the center of the room, arms open wide at his side like he was a big surprise froze every thought in your brain. 

Your breathing slowed down while your heart rate perked up, the thudding resonating all the way up your brain to rhythmically ram against the bone and raise the pressure in there. 

"Kayden?" Wrecker stood at the appearance of the newcomer, or ghost, or whatever he was. 

"What did you expect? Ya can't get rid of me that easily." He winked, not even meeting your gaze yet. 

"Wh-You guys seeing him too?!" They all nodded in silence, too stunned to manage anything more. Hunter's hand on your thigh that you hadn't noticed until now tightened at your inquiry.

He looked the same. Same Forsian clothes, same tousled hair with his persistent cowlick at the front, same sparkling energy, although your expert eyes saw through the facade as easily as ever and found some uneasiness. "How- your soul got- you died." 

It took you a month to overcome your denial and finally be able to say that he died and was not simply missing. He didn't just disappear, his soul disappeared. His soul got eaten by a pesky little brat. He had died back there, nearly half an hour before dawn. He died in your arms that night and every following night for three weeks and he couldn't be here. As much as you wanted him to be, he couldn't. 

"Yeah. I'd like to think that it was because whoever was assigned to me on the other side couldn't stand me, but I truly think it's because of your sad ass crying over our crest with the Core around." He shrugged when his eyes finally met yours. "And by the way, you're ugly as fuck when you cry." His diversion to hide his discomfort failed miserably. You saw him gulp as he took in the water filling your eyes. 

"I mourned you, you asshole!" The hand on your thigh wasn't enough to keep you in place. Getting up without a problem, you moved to your once closest friend and the one you considered your brother and punched his shoulder with all your might. You were pissed, but not enough to aim for his face. 

The lack of any concrete object colliding with your knuckles sent you tumbling through his body. It gave you a chill like you'd passed your hand through a mound of snow. The coldness vanished as soon as you completely exited his apparition, leaving goosebumps as the only proof of the momentaneous change of temperature. 

"Neat trick eh? Took me months to master it!" He beamed, truly enthusiastic about his new ability. His smile wavered once he took in your fury. "Okay, okay. Hit me again, I won't do it." He presented his cheek. 

You weren't falling for it again. Your ego was bruised, your feelings were crushed, your whole being was screaming in a mix of anger and relief. 

"Fuck you." He recoiled at your glare. "You were here the whole time, watching me cry over your fuck ass self and didn't say shit." This time, when your fingers poked his chest, they made contact and you noticed how warm he felt compared to the cold from mere moments ago when you passed through him. 

"I wasn't here the whole time." He shook his head to defend himself. "I woke up one day, I think it was a month after it all, and no one could see or hear me. Took me months to build up my strength to be able to move one of the toothpicks that are everywhere in this ship." 

A growl could be heard from behind Kayden who immediately changed something in himself so the toothpick thrown at him passed right through and bounced on your shirt. A click of his tongue and Crosshair was gone, preferring the comfort of his bed after a long visit to the medbay to listening to what the brunette had to say. 

"Wait! So all the pranks, it was you?" Wrecker approached the Forsian, an impressed glint in his eyes. He reached for Kayden's shoulder, surely to try out the feeling of touching a ghost that can actually dematerialize himself. Unfortunately for him, Kayden was now flesh and bones… or whatever he was.

"Needed to come back with style, my friend." He smirked and turned to admire his art tagging the wall. "That's a better team name, ain't it?" 

You used the fact that he was now a solid version of himself to slap the back of his head. It was with a small bit of pleasure that you noted that it felt the same. Even the yelp was exactly as you remembered. 

"You karking sent us to the medbay." Crosshair shot from the room clearly still pissed from his little trip. You felt compelled to go snuggle with him, even more because you had assured him that he wouldn't have to undergo a medical appointment. 

Your frustration towards your brother came back full force. Not only could he have shown himself weeks ago when the first prank started, but he dropped so much shit on all of you, from the long-lasting ink on Hunter's face, to Tech's burned hand when his live wires had been moved without him noticing, to the forced medical trip and let's not forget the bugs in your bed. 

It was a good thing that the sniper wasn't in the room as he would have been mad seeing Kayden trying to keep the smile off his face and failing miserably. "I didn't send you there. He did." He pointed at the Sergeant with a smug grin. "I was just being a nice little ghost."

"Nice? You call yourself nice?" You couldn't take more of his bullshit. If you stayed in the room another second, you'd lash out and it wouldn't be pretty. All the nasty words floating in your mind would hurt more than you really intended and you couldn't have that. Not when you could still hear the repressed sobs racking his body in your head. 

You walked away, tears gathering in your eyes, but you didn't care. Crosshair would hold you again and it'd be fine again. "Fucking Dimwit." 

"Thank you." He called with such seriousness that you stopped in your tracks. "For bringing me back." 

At that moment, water ran down your cheek and there was nothing you could do about it. You wanted to hold him tightly in your arms and pray that he wouldn't fade away this time. But you were scared. Scared he'd do just that. Fade away and leave you once again to try and piece yourself back again, with more missing pieces than you already have. 

You were lucky though. Clone force 99 was good at creating stuff with limited resources to accomplish impossible tasks. With their skills, time, patience, and different level of care, they filled some holes. However, some were still painfully empty and were too intricate to replace. 

"Don't thank me." You sighed, shoulder slumped, hand hovering over the button to open the door to the barracks. 

He frowned. "You can't really be mad at me." 

No, you couldn't. Not when he was back. And even less when he died for you in the first place. 

You shook your head, still watching the marks engraved in the door. "I'm not." 

"Then wh-" "Him." You cut Kayden off to point at Tech whose eyes were as wide as saucers and his body inching closer and closer to get a better look at him. 

"Stay away." Kayden jumped to the side, avoiding the engineer’s curious fingers as well as his scanner that somehow found its way into his possession. 

Still, the clone didn't give up and followed the Forsian wherever he backed-up. "But you can pass through things!" His first try at passing through Kayden was unsuccessful as he met flesh, just like Wrecker. 

"No. I'm not going to be penetrated by your fingers for science. It still feels weird." 

Tech, however, was quick to find a way to get what he wanted. A fist flew to Kayden's face, not too quick to let him time to see it coming, but with enough force to promise a black-eye if he didn't dodge it. If only there had been a wall behind him to stop him from jumping back and avoid the knuckles. 

"But do you get how useful this could be during a mission!" Tech tried again, but Kayden was prepared. 

"Yeah and ghosts can go poof!" He mimed explosions with his hands and disappeared into thin air just as Tech's fist was to make contact. Instead of hitting Kayden, his fist collided with the wall of the Marauder. 

You entered the barracks, Tech's hiss of pain filled the room and caused Crosshair to chuckle in amusement. 

"So we have a ghost now? Can we keep him like we kept Back-Up?" Wrecker asked excitedly. 

"Great. Just. Great." Hunter grumbled, a hand slowly moving down his face and the door closed behind you.