#kittens and rage stitching

[lilragekitten]

Dragon update!

Number 5 complete!

[aikuse]

5,161 words. gn!reader, hybrid!au, hybrid!reader (calico cat), pirate!hayato. ownership, collars, penetrative sex, fingering (reader!receiving), pet names (angel, kitten), torture (not reader receiving). hybrid!oc side characters. reader is described as thin and malnourished. a/n: god i don’t know what came over me. jesus christ.

I’m gonna murder you.

That was the first thing you thought of when the smugglers stuffed you into this crate. It hadn’t been without injury; you’d gotten a chance to scratch and nip at some of the arms in your vision, with yelps and cursing following. One had swatted at you, which had been met with sharp teeth sinking into his hand. He’d howled in rage, holding his hand as the top of the box had finally been shut and locked. From there, you don’t know where you’d been put; the box was small enough where you’d been cramped, not allowed out unless it was in the captain’s quarters, and even then he’d expected you to sit so still next to him.

Financial success. That was a phrase you’d recognized, one that had been associated with your calico heritage, and was probably the reason why you were on a smuggler’s ship in the first place. Why you were really here was a mystery, kept from you, which suited you perfectly fine. You didn’t need to know why you were there, only that you had to escape somehow. Something deep within you had told you that this ship was cursed; and the growing quiet outside, eerily silent, did not speak of a smooth journey. Most ships in this star system were bustling, even during the long journey. This one was quiet…too quiet.

Sure enough, all of a sudden, there seemed to be a much more intense commotion going on outside. Cannons were going off, an awful, acrid smell spreading down to your little hovel in the base of the ship. It made your nose twitch, but you knew with a sinking feeling who it was attacking the ship. Who else could it be?

PIRATES.

Your hands were pressed over your ears, doing their best to hide the noise from outside but did little to protect your hearing. Your tail, tight around your body due to your confining box, couldn’t help but twitch whenever you heard a cannon go off. From the suddenly loud footfalls above you, it sounded like the pirates had managed to get on deck. Gurgling and heavier thuds permeated the sounds, as well as cackling noises from the intruders, and then…silence.

Gentle footfalls broke the quiet, and you braced yourself as they began to move around above you, stepping down stairs and sounding as if they were in the same room as you. You tried to make yourself small in the box, as small as possible in the corner as you hear someone scrabbling at the box. “Boss!” you hear a voice say, “Looks like they got some pricey cargo. Sounds like a smuggler ship to me.”

Another voice chimes in, smoother. “Open it.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, resisting the urge to snarl. You’d been hit for that, and you weren’t keen on being hit again over it.

A jingle of keys, and the box opens in the front. Light streams in, and you have to blink several times for your eyes to adjust before heads crowd the opening. You can’t make out details, but you do hear whispering between them; the special scent of other hybrids hits your nostrils, making you want to curl further into yourself. Hybrid and poor thing and why were they smuggling this are thrown around, before the heads clear and a singular man squats down in front of you.

He’s gorgeous.

Tasseled earrings swish as he kneels. The one eye you can see has nothing but kindness in it, a strange emotion to see in the eyes of a pirate captain. His garb is typical of a captain as well; a black coat with golden lapels, black pants and black boots scuffed from many adventures. The eye patch over his other eye is frayed as well, needing a good stitching.

He doesn’t say anything, only rakes his gaze over you. You don’t even realize you’re shaking until his hand reaches in, and you resist the urge to bite him. Unlike the smugglers, he doesn’t seem to have any ill will for you. His movements are slow, easy to anticipate, something you appreciate after the harsh, rapid movements of the smugglers.

“Good,” he whispers, as if he can tell you’re holding back.

His hand finally stops in front of your nose.

Is he…letting me smell him?

He doesn’t move, so you lean forward just a little, sniffing at his palm. It smells musky, like a strong cologne you’ve smelled before but can’t put your finger on it. It sends an electric shock through your system, almost as if you were meant to be found by him. Something about this feels fated somehow, and unconsciously, you move forward and push your head underneath his hand.

His touch is soft as he scratches between your ears, the contact forcing a rough purr out of your throat as you slowly move forward. You don’t leave the box, but you do let him pet you. That’s enough for you right now; feeling someone’s gentle touch against you, raspy purrs in your chest.

“Captain?”

One of the shipmates speaks behind the man in front of you, who looks back. “Yes?”

“Are we…takin’ it with us?”

“It?” The captain’s tone is sharp all of a sudden, like a knife. The atmosphere thickens.

There’s an audible gulp. “I, uh…them, I guess.”

The captain nods, turning back to you and coaxing you out of the box. Your legs feel cramped after having been stuck in that box for so long, and you can’t help but stretch out, groaning at the snaps and cracks and pops of your joints. Your tail swishes behind you, low to the ground, as you extend your arms out in front of you, your short claws digging into the wood as you wriggle out all the cramps.

“Can you stand?” the captain asks you, offering his hand. You nod, not up for speaking just yet as you grab his hand, standing on wobbly legs. You’re shorter than him, somehow, considering he can’t be more than five and a half feet tall, so you look up at him with big, brown eyes, waiting for what he’ll do next.

You go to take a step with him, and almost instantly, your vision blurs and darkens. Someone catches you, you presume the captain as he barks an order at the shipmates that had been surrounding him. The blood rushing to your head is too much, having not been on two legs for so long, that you let the darkness drift you away, hoping when you wake that you’ll be in a safer place.

A sentence meets your ears, causing them to twitch just before you go under.

I’ll take good care of you, kitten.

You awaken to fuzziness pushing against your cheek.

Immediately, you start, before grimacing and feeling the wooziness still in your head, your hand reaching up to press against the painful spot. It seemed to be a headache; you can’t recall the last time you’d eaten properly, only being forced to consume bathwater and moldy food. Your stomach felt small, so incredibly small, and you knew you looked thin as well. Not like you’d been chubby at any point of life, but starvation and malnourishment had done a number on you.

Upon inspecting the bed you’re lying on, it’s covered in fluffy, warm blankets that smell similar to the musk of the captain. There’s food as well, the scent hanging in the air and forcing you to lean over to the side table. A plate with piping hot food (what looks to be a stew) and a tall glass of water sit, ready to be devoured.

You can’t help but drool a little, wiping the spit on your chin as you go to take a bite of the stew. You’d never had stew before, only heard stories about how many ingredients it has and how rare some of them can be to harvest. As the food hits your palette, you can’t help but hum at the heartiness of it, the warmth spreading through your body. The water follows the food, eliciting a sigh as you take another scoop of stew—

You drop the spoon in the bowl as you hear the door open, chattering from the deck seeping in past the doorframe. Luckily, it’s just the captain as he shuts the door quickly behind him, before approaching your bed.

The draft from the open door hits your skin, and you pull one of the blankets around you, redness flushing your face. I didn’t realize he’d taken my clothes. Not that they were “clothes” in the traditional sense to begin with; they had been scraps at best, hanging off of your thin frame, but feeling them gone and you bare in front of him felt wrong.

He has a soft smile on his face, his earrings tinkling as he walks. He seems to ignore the fact that you’re naked, too, which you appreciate. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, and you nod, still a little bashful. You’re probably too trusting of him so quickly, but…something about him makes you feel relaxed.

He sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning you close. You move as if attached by a magnet to his hand, pushing your head underneath it and purring as he gives you some scratches. There’s a noise of a bell somewhere, and you feel his hand brush against the soft skin of your neck, reaching for the ratty leather collar that the smugglers used.

You almost forgot about it, but you can’t resist hissing as his hand goes to grab it, jerking back. “No!” you cry out, and he releases the collar immediately, holding both of his hands in view. There’s something sad in his eyes, that makes you soften again, the bristling on your head relaxing. “Sorry,” you rasp, “’m sorry. Just…sensitive.”

He nods. “Can I remove it?” he asks. You nod.

He asks for permission at every turn, asking to rub the redness from your neck when the collar comes off. He adds some medicine to the burn, tutting. “Those smugglers had no idea how to take care of you, did they?” he questions, mostly to himself, but you shake your head anyway. You don’t remember much before the ship, mostly hiding in alleyways and making a name for yourself. You’d managed to hide your hybrid elements for a while, but the smugglers always find out eventually. It’s how they work.

Your eyes slide closed at his movements, his firm touches against your sensitive neck, and his cooing voice in your ear, telling you it’s going to be okay. One sentence remains as you drift off, feeling yourself grow tired after eating your fill of the soup and being freed of that disgusting collar.

Call me Hayato, angel.

Hayato was as fierce as he was kind, however.

You’d gotten used to accompanying him to meetings, sitting next to him obediently. He’d given you a much nicer collar, a black one with a shiny silver bell on the front of it, tinkling whenever you moved. He’d dressed you in much higher quality clothes, as well; similar to his own garb, you’d gotten a black jacket, white shirt, black pants and black boots. Thankfully, he never found a reason to give you a leash, and you stayed close to him enough where it wouldn’t matter. You weren’t a canine hybrid, after all.

However, today, there was an interrogation.

Of one of the smugglers they’d captured.

You’d sat, curled up in your seat as Hayato stalked around the smuggler in question. He’d been beaten before he’d been brought in, sores and welts disfiguring his face. However, he recognized you, and that led to where he is now; at the bad end of Hayato’s whip, lashing out whenever the smuggler gave him an answer he didn’t like.

“What were you doing with them?” Hayato asks sternly, pointing to you. The smuggler clams up, shaking his head. “Can’t—can’t tell,” he stammers out, and the tension in the room skyrockets. It’s almost hard to breathe as you stare at the man through slitted eyes, your ears pinned to your head as you hiss at him. He winces again, and flinches as Hayato squats next to him. The shipmates around him are bristling, almost waiting for the command to tear him to pieces.

You’d noticed, recently, that many of the shipmates were also hybrids. There’s a wolf hybrid, always barking at one of the golden retrievers that never seemed to be able to mop the deck fast enough for him. He had a massive scar up his snout, crossing one of his eyes and rendering it blind, his ears and tail jet black shot through with red (that you imagined he dyed himself). The retriever was larger, more stout with big brown eyes, and much more of a yapper. It was like watching night and day.

That meant this was personal for Hayato. He had a stake in this.

You made a mental note to ask him why he kept rescuing hybrids, but it seemed as though he did it for justice more than anything else as he lashes the man once more, a wail tearing itself from the injured man’s throat as a massive welt appears on his bare back, blood oozing to the surface.

“Can’t tell me? You know your captain has been killed, correct?” Hayato’s tone is clipped.

The man gasps. “No! He’d never go down that easy to the likes of you,” he spits, and Hayato’s face splits into a smile. A smile that a carnivore would have, when its prey has caught itself in a trap right in front of it.

“Never? Well, he seemed to go down quite easily before the barrel of my gun.”

The smuggler gulps. “F-Fine,” he stammers after a moment, “what do you want?”

Hayato sighs. “I asked you already. What did you want with this hybrid? Come now, keep up.”

The smuggler looks back up at you, and smirks, having a lick of courage flashing in his eyes. It made your blood feel cold*.* “That one? Oh, they’re a pretty one. Pro’lly had it on there so the captain could stick his cock somewhere—”

The blow that lands on his face is loud, a crrrrrack echoing through the cabin as the man slumps, gasping, almost unconscious. Hayato’s face is stern, a rage in his eyes that looks like fire. He doesn’t shake or flinch, but moves in a calculating way as he shifts to be right in the man’s vision. “Disgusting,” he says, spitting on the man’s face, which is met with a faint groan, “fucking disgusting. People like you deserve nothing in this world. Would you have even asked for consent, or do you also think you’re entitled to that as well?”

You’ve curled inside of yourself as soon as you heard the words the man had spoken. The lust in his voice was clear, and you couldn’t help but want to hide, hide away from prying eyes and from anyone who saw you as a pretty little hole. It made you feel dirty, and thankfully nothing had happened before Hayato had arrived, but…what if he hadn’t? What would your fate have been?

The smuggler coughs, blood spraying on the floor. You look over at the wolf, and notice the drool dripping from his mouth. He can smell the blood, of course he can; and he looked like he’d want nothing better than to devour the man in front of him. His teeth are digging into his lip, and the retriever’s hand moves to grip the wolf’s, noticing his tail swishing.

The smuggler grins through the blood. “’Course ‘m entitled. It was my property, yeah? I could do whatever I want to it, and so could the captain.”

The rage that’s swirling in Hayato’s eyes only strengthens as he looks up and glances at the wolf, meeting his feral eyes. The wolf’s muscles are ramrod straight, and he’s shaking at having to hold himself back. The retriever does his best, but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

Hayato says nothing, turning on the smuggler and moving to you, instead, worry clouding his eyes as the rage dispels. He moves in a way where you can’t see the smuggler anymore, and kneels down in front of you, cupping your face.

He removes one hand, and snaps his fingers, the crisp noise echoing around the cabin.

Within an instant, you see the wolf charge in, claws tearing at any part of the man that he can get his hands on from the noises that elicited from the movements you could barely see. His nails are long, never cut but only sharpened and fine-tuned, like ten small blades attached to his fingers. Blood sprays all over the cabin, the man’s screams echoing around the cabin.

You see none of it. Hayato sits in front of you, taking up all of your vision, his big eyes staring deeply into your own. There’s safety there. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you comply, because how could you not when someone who barely knew you fought for you without needing a reason? Even if there had been a reason, you had a feeling that Hayato would have done it anyway.

The retriever moves in after the wolf is done and silence has fallen, cleaning up after him. The wolf staggers back, and you attempt to peek over Hayato’s shoulder, who gently moves your face back to look at him. “Don’t look at him,” he says softly, “I don’t want you to see this. Just know that he’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

You shivered. “Okay.”

That night, you can’t help but hear the man’s screams.

The clean-up after had been out of your vision as well, the retriever doing his best to keep you out of the cabin. It had been difficult, but due to his brawn there was no way you could have forced your way in. So, instead, you chose to lounge in Hayato’s quarters, which you’ve now discovered is where you’d woken up. You chose your own bed instead, having had it closer to the door, and you’d toppled onto it to sleep.

You dreamed of terror, horribly vivid dreams with hands touching you where you didn’t want them. Voices telling you you belong to me, I can do what I want echoing through your brain. You couldn’t talk back, or hiss or scream for help; your vocal chords were shot, tightened, frozen in place.

You’d woken up in a pool of sweat, shaking and shuddering in the middle of the night. The ship was moving gently along the galactic current, the stars outside bringing soft light into the cabin. There was a planet you were passing, its bright aura dousing the cabin in a pretty glow of orange and purple.

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you crawled over to Hayato’s bed. You felt terrible asking him to soothe you, but you simply shed your clothes and crawled under the covers with him, thinking nothing of it.

Instead, Hayato’s eyes fluttered open as you slid under the blankets, getting yourself comfortable. “Are you alright?” he rasps, blinking sleepily as he drags you to him, a soft yelp falling from your lips at the movement, before smoothing into his grip. “Nightmare,” you whisper, and his grip on your only tightens. The bell around your throat jingles.

“Oh, angel,” he whispers, scratching that space between your ears that he knows you love, “it’s alright. I’m here. None of those bastards will ever lay a hand on you again, I promise.”

It’s silent for a moment, before your mind begins to wander.

You can feel that Hayato is only dressed in sleep pants, and for some reason, that makes you feel warm. Something stirs inside of you, your stomach tight as you turn to look at him. Whatever is in your eyes makes his grow dark, and he grins. “Do you need me to take care of you?” he asks, and you nod. There was something about having Hayato do what the men in the nightmare did; call it reclaiming power or whatever you’d like, but having it with the person you trusted the most (currently) felt like it was wiping away the previous horrible ordeals you’d been through.

His lips slot against your own so gently that you almost don’t notice, and a purr is shared between your connected mouths as his tongue slides against your lips, asking for entrance. It licks into your mouth, hot and wet and strong, easily taking control from you. Your tail swishes against the covers, and your thighs clench at the motion.

“My pretty little kitten,” he murmurs against you, “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

His hands drift, down to your hips as his nails sink into the skin. The motion has you trembling against him, small ah’s escaping your mouth as he breaks the connection between you two, looking at you like you’d hung all the stars in the galaxy. He looks at you in a way he doesn’t look at anyone else, and it makes your chest feel warm.

As he maneuvers above you, you can’t help but blurt out, “My first time. This, uh…this is my first.”

He stops dead in his tracks, gaze hot on your lithe body. “I’m your first?”

You nod hesitantly. “B-But I do want this. With you. Promise.” You don’t know how else to say it, or how else to beg for it because now that he’s kissed you, you need him everywhere. Particularly, between your legs, where you can feel wetness beginning to build between your thighs. Who cares if it’s going to be something you regret? Right now, it felt right to reward the person who’d saved you twice over.

He pauses for a moment, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate. Then, he smiles, moving back to your lips and capturing you in a long kiss, teeth clacking together. You sink your canines into his lip, just enough to indent the skin, and he groans into your mouth.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, moving down to spread your legs in front of him. You feel your ears twitch as he does so, gazing at your center and how it drips onto the blankets beneath you both. There’s a flush on your cheeks, you can feel the warmth on them as he reaches out and runs a long, thin finger through your lips, from your center up to your throbbing clit.

As soon as his finger taps your nub, you jolt, your hips unconsciously bucking into his own grip. There’s a grin that splits across Hayato’s face, and he doubles down on the movement, leaning over you to get closer, his lips hovering inches above your own. His eyes are blown wide, almost black with lust as he watches you unfold beneath him.

The whines and whimpers that fall from your mouth aren’t in your control; you can only react to him, shuddering and shaking beneath him as he continues his movements. “Have you ever cum before?” he whispers, and you shake your head. You’d never touched yourself, either; it’s not like you had the time for self exploration, and Hayato can certainly tell with how sensitive you are. It’s almost like you’ve been pent up, all this time, your need pacing the grounds of a cage, yowling to be let out.

He smiles at you. “I’m going to make you, don’t worry,” he says gently, “get you nice and ready for me.”

You can feel it, the arousal, tightening in your stomach like a spring. It’s all so much that tears are pricking at your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks as you sob. “Feels ‘s good, Hayato,” you whine, and his smile only grows as he picks up the pace, his fingers rolling and pushing against you. “Good, angel,” he responds, “now, can you cum for me? Can my pretty kitten cum for me?”

You’d never been one to follow commands, being a feline hybrid, but something about his voice had you spurting all over the blankets without a second thought, a cry ripping itself from your throat as you cum. He watches you do so, his gaze a burning fire that’s tearing through you, watching your body jerk and shake and shudder beneath him as you ride out your high. You can’t tear your eyes from him, not with how intense he looks and how happy he looks, his pride for you written obviously all over his face.

His fingers leave you, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, before he’s there again above you, lips attached to you.

“You did so wonderfully, angel,” he says against you, his hands pulling off his pants, “so, so good for me.”

Your head is light, as if there was a dam broken that suddenly made you feel like you were walking on air. When his cock brushes against your center, you wince, feeling the head prod against you. “T-too big,” you manage to get out, and he pulls you in close, bracketing your head with his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“We can stop if you want to,” he says softly, but you shake your head. Now that you’ve gotten a taste…you need to feel him inside of you. Claiming you. “No, it’s okay,” you manage to get out, and he holds you close as he positions himself, slowly breaching the ring of tight muscles.

“Just relax, kitten,” he says, “relax and let me in. Let me make you feel good.”

Your breaths are deep, following his motions as oxygen flows in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly, you feel him enter, and while it does burn, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, his cock slides in relatively easily thanks to the wetness lining your walls, and—God.

“S’ full,” you moan, and his forehead drops to your own as he pants. You can feel him restraining himself from slamming into you, adjusting to you. “You’re so tight,” he whispers, “hugging me so good, angel. Fuck.”

You stay that way for some moments, connected so divinely that you could’ve fallen asleep right there with Hayato’s cock keeping you nice and open, but that was a pipe dream. Instead, he slides out so slowly that every ridge of his cock rubs against your walls, and when he slides back in, the head hits this part inside of you that feels spongey and feels so good. You let out a shudder and a high-pitched squeal as he slides in and out faster, and when you look at him, he’s grinning. You don’t think he’s stopped grinning and smiling this entire time.

“Holy shit, kitten,” he pants, “don’t wanna cum too fast. Wanna feel you more.”

You nod, sighing as he sheaths himself inside of you once again. “Faster. Please, Hayato? Make me cum again?”

He pauses, looking at you questioningly. “Are you sure?”

You nod far too quickly. “Yes. Promise.”

The next snap of his hips has you seeing stars, bullying against that spot within you that makes you feel warm and tight and ready to explode all over him again. The pace is fast, but it’s not brutal; it’s like a ship, swaying and prodding and pounding rhythmically, like a song. Like a galactic song that’s been known across space and time.

He pushes himself up onto his palms, sweat dripping onto you as he rails into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says, cupping your face with one hand and keeping himself up on the other. Skin slaps against skin, and your moans and whines all but spur him on to moving even faster. Your mind is unraveling with every thrust, every prodding movement to that spot within you only making you wetter. Squelching noises echo around the cabin, and your thighs clench around Hayato, your ankles unconsciusly locking behind him.

“G-Gonna cum, Haya,” you mumble, and his eyes screw shut as he lets out a groan that’s so loud that you expect half the ship can hear you both (if they couldn’t already). “Cum on my cock, kitten,” he says, panting and opening his eyes and looking directly at you, “I know you can do it.”

And you do. This one hits you even harder than the last, your vision almost whiting out as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Along with your walls trembling around him, you can feel Hayato growing close; you’re not sure exactly what it looks or feels like when a fully-human man comes, but with the stuttering of his hips and the way his cock feels inside of you, it’s no secret he’s about to finish as well.

So, you find some crude bravery as you lean up and whisper in his ear.

“Cum inside of me, Hayato.”

He gasps. “Oh, fuck,” he gets out, trembling, before he’s spurting inside of you with a growl that makes every hair on your body stand up. He starts babbling against you, the dirty words weaving their way into your mind and making you shudder and shake around him as you finish together.

“Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little hole. You’re mine, you’re all mine, nobody else can touch you but me. Only me. This is my little hole, only mine, mine, mine.”

Eventually, his arms collapse and he drops onto your chest, heaving and panting as he presses a kiss to your chest. You’re no better, drawing in deep breaths as you come back to center, your vision clearing as you feel the blankets underneath you and Hayato’s body stuck to your own through sweat and other bodily fluids.

You lay like that for some time, his hand lazily scratching between your ears, pressing small kisses to your shoulder where he can reach without moving. He looks up at you then, a stupid grin on his face. It’s almost dopey.

“I never thought I’d meet a hybrid like you,” he says, and you scrunch your nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you shoot back, and he lets out a giggle that makes your chest feel warm and cozy. His hand cups your face, and he pulls you down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Only that I adore you.”

The sentence wraps itself around you, holding you comfortably as he cleans you both up, changing the blankets and producing fresh ones. You nestle into the bed, Hayato’s arms wrapping around you tightly, as if someone was going to crash into the cabin and take you away from him.

At least, that’s probably what he thought.

Feeling safe in his arms, you drift off, feeling more safe than you’ve felt in years.

He adores me.

And he does.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

[podcastenthusiast]

Astarion/Karlach. Act 1 conversation after some questionable choices.

--

Someone approaches you at camp. You're a little on edge about this, tense despite the growing bond with your companions. The memory of the gith's sword against your neck is still fresh.

"Hey, soldier. Got a minute?"

It's Karlach. You relax.

"For you, my dear, of course."

She sits down beside you. You can feel the apprehension and ambient heat radiating from her skin. She picks at a loose thread on her shirt; you wonder if she's going to ask you to repair it for her. She always gets distracted mid-stitch or sets the fabric alight.

"You seem different," she says. "Since we've been here. Since you, uh, consumed that tadpole. Not sure I like who you're turning into lately."

"Worried I might be at risk of sprouting tentacles? Darling, I didn't know you cared."

She reaches out as if to playfully punch your arm, but catches herself, sparing you a nasty burn.

"Shut up. No, it's not that. It's just... You enjoy it, huh? The power it gives you. Power over other people. Toying with them."

You do, honestly. It feels good to be the one giving the orders, for once. And you need every advantage you can get with the odds stacked against you. You need to understand and control your new Illithid abilities before they control you, or Cazador does. An army of crazed cultists could be a useful asset if it comes to that.

But Karlach doesn't sound so happy about these developments.

She shouldn't have let you into her (figurative) heart. All you know how to do is break them.

"Well, how could I not? It's so easy to manipulate those brainless goblins. And we both know I detest hard work."

She frowns. "Nah. See, I think there's more to it. Getting your way and having a little fun at their expense--that's one thing. But I watched you torture someone, no tadpole required. So c'mon. Real talk, Astarion."

Ugh. You're starting to hate when she uses your name instead of a silly moniker. It means she's serious. Or cross about something. Or both.

"Fine. It makes me feel strong, all right?"

"Well yeah, I figured as much. Dig a little deeper."

Karlach will be the death of you, you think. Maybe that one will stick and she'll cry at your funeral. Good. It would serve her right for prodding so much. Trying to see you, and not just what you want everyone to see, either.

"I haven't felt anything even close to this strong in 200 years. You don't know what that's like. Suddenly I have authority. I can impose my will over others, force them to obey. With Cazador, I was so...powerless. Now I'm not."

She shifts uncomfortably. "I mean, that's great and all. But is that what you really want? To be like your old master?"

You bare your fangs. "I am nothing like Cazador!"

She raises her hands placatingly. "Whoa, hey! At ease, soldier. Didn't mean to hit a nerve. I'm sorry."

She looks at you a bit like you're a wounded animal. It makes you want to lash out even more. Instead you take a few deep breaths, the way Lae'zel once showed you during a sparring session. Harness your body, and the mind will follow.

"Finding that druid Halsin. Seeking the hag's help. Githyanki purification. The search for a cure is what brought our merry little band of freaks together, isn't it."

"...Yeah, I suppose," she says slowly, not quite sure where you're going with this.

"What do you suppose happens to me if we do find a cure?"

"I don't know. Who can say where any of us will be?"

"Take a guess. Lae'zel returns to her queen, Shadowheart completes her mission, Gale goes home to his beloved Waterdeep, Wyll carries on saving kittens from trees or something. And yours truly?"

"You could always come with me," Karlach says, a sentiment as absurd as it is sweet.

"No parasite means no freedom," you tell her. "Nothing to stop Cazador taking me back."

"That's where you're wrong." There's an intensity in her eyes. Not the familiar fiery explosive battle rage, but a calm controlled burn. "You helped me at least thrice over. Even if we never find a way to cool down my engine... Said I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, and I meant it. Your demons are my demons."

You look away, your throat suddenly tight, a confusing mix of fear and gratitude swirling in your gut.

"You don't know what he's capable of. You'd be a fool to do that for me."

"Psh. Who says it's all about you anyway? Maybe I just personally want to set the old bastard on fire. Sounds like he has it coming."

You laugh, and your chest feels lighter than it has in days.

"Right you are, Karlach."

"And for what it's worth, you know...I think you're pretty damn strong no matter what."

You don't agree. But it's a nice thought all the same.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

For the Hospital prompts, may I request

17. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt." Perc'ahlia in Vamp Machina?

If it's not fitting, you can pick another universe <3

17. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt."

Vex isn't used to the worry. When one is a powerful, nigh-indestructible undead killing machine with razor-sharp teeth and an ass that won't quit, one becomes accustomed to feeling untouchable, unshakable, even in the face of acute danger.

And then some skinny nerd with a death wish and annoyingly nimble fingers comes along to turn everything upside down, and here she is, arms crossed tightly around herself as she resists the urge to tear open this receptionist's throat in rage. All she gets is a phone call from the witch her brother's been knocking around with—"Percy's in the hospital. I...I thought you'd want to know."—and she's not even allowed in to see him. These fluorescent lights are hell on her skin, make her look even more undead than normal. How much longer is she expected to wait before someone gives her some fucking answers?

She's left to stew in her own anxiety for so long that she almost misses when they come out, Percy half-draped along Keyleth's side as she helps him hobble toward the door. In a flash, Vex is in front of them, earning a gasp of surprise from the witch. She inspects Percy, taking his chin in her hand as gingerly as she can to inspect his face, his neck, his clothes. "Please tell me that isn't your blood on your shirt."

And despite the swollen black eye and the stitches on his lip, the fucker laughs, gravelly and low, and Vex wants to bite him in all the best ways. "Not all of it."

Keyleth scowls. (As annoying as she finds her brother's fascination with the little witch, Vex can't deny she's pretty, rosy and delicate in a way she bets tastes wonderful.) "He stumbled across three vampires feeding on a woman in alley and thought he'd take them all on himself." Vex frowns; he's a talented vampire hunter, she is aware, so surely three wouldn't be enough to do this kind of damage. Keyleth continues, her voice dripping with acid. "Why don't you tell Vex how many wooden bullets you had on you at the time, Percival?" Oh, how fun—this kitten has claws.

Percy's eyes flick up to the ceiling, clearly over being chastised. "Two."

Vex's stomach swoops. Two bullets? For three juiced-up, pissed-off vampires? Gods, she's lucky he's alive. She drops his chin. "I thought you were intelligent, Percy."

His eyes—eye, really—narrow into slits. "What would you have had me do, Vex'ahlia? Let them kill her?"

Yes, she wants to snarl. Fuck that bitch, better her than him. Vampires killing humans is the natural order of things, but she'll burn this city down if he's one of them. She's aware of the hypocrisy, of the irrationality of her bone-chilling desire to keep him safe, but she can't be bothered with reason. He's hers, and Vex is not interested in sharing. She sees the challenge in his eyes, his waiting for her to say it out loud, her willingness to say that some nameless human woman should die in order to prevent this level of devastation to his body, the body she is so very fond of, but she won't give him the satisfaction.

She slips her arm around his waist, on the opposite side of Keyleth, and begins to urge them forward. "Come. I'm sure your witchy roommate has supplies to heal your pretty eye back home, and I'm going to take that shirt and use it to find the one who did this to you."

"If you want to see me shirtless, Vex'ahlia," he murmurs, low and weak, "all you need to do is ask."

Fuck, Vex can feel the heat of the embarrassed flush on Keyleth's cheeks, but it's overshadowed by her own heat simmering low in her belly. She brings her lips right up to his ear, which is also caked in blood. "You and I both you know you enjoy it when I don't ask."

That, at least, seems to rattle his self-satisfied confidence; he nearly trips as they exit the hospital. Vex grins, eager to get him home and punish him deliciously for his recklessness.

[team-red-on-red]

Jason saw that little wrinkle of Tim’s nose, finding it a bit cute the way it scrunched his face like a disgruntled kitten. “Edgy narrative is my middle name Timbo” he chuckled, eyes flickering down to the precise and clean stitches now on his side. They were a hell of a lot better than Jason could have done by himself and he was pretty sure even Alfred would approve of Tim’s work. He let out a low scoff at the mention of Dick, a person who kept desperately trying to be his ‘older brother’ again and always wanted to meet up everytime he was in town. God, he was sick of seeing that black and blue spandex dickhead jumping around.

“Relax, by the way don’t you have contingency plans on top of contingency plans? I’m willing to bet a few of those are for different scenarios of me getting injured or in the ditch.” He pulled his shirt back on and as he did, ignored the fleeting thought that wanted to ask Tim what the plan was if Jason was to have his ‘lazarus pit rage’ again. He didn’t update people but.. He felt like he was doing well. He could no longer feel that ugly green bubbling in the back of his mind, and he wouldn’t see tints of green if something ticked him off. Now it was red, but that was usually someone’s blood.

He could feel the new stitches since they were fresh, but it felt more stable. He would be able to shift comfortably and not worry about bleeding between the bandages. Now that that was taken care of, he was honestly feeling a little peckish, and he was determined to see the other vigilante demolish a burger. “Let’s go get a burger. ‘M starving from all the blood loss.” he exaggerated and pulled his leather jacket back on. He knew he should probably put a little more effort in changing his civilian fashion, but some days, it was just funnier and convenient to just grab his usual brown jacket. At least this one had no blood on it.

Birds of a Feather

(closed RP with @muuuumin)

Things were not going according to plan. 

Tim really didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

Sadly, that was the nature of Gotham City, which was exactly why Tim had backup plan after backup plan, accounting for every conceivable variable. He’d written an algorithm just for this case. There was a stack of paperwork heavier than Tim was. 

And yet, somehow, none of that accounted for faulty construction of the barrier along the route Tim expected to chase the criminal along, and just like that all 27 of Tim’s backup plans went out the window, and he and this thug were tearing through the streets of Gotham City. 

Fortunately, Tim had always been quick. Maybe not quite as strong as some of the other bats, but he was balanced in agility, which was useful when it came to jumping over the wooden palettes that had been knocked in his way. 

He’d been chasing this guy for months, the leader of a trafficking ring that made Tim’s stomach turn with each new detail he learned. Finally, Tim had him… nearly. Weeks of careful planning were reduced to instinct, fueled by the base knowledge that whatever happened, he had to catch this guy. Because of that, he wasn’t particularly paying attention to where the man was running, only that Tim needed to catch up to him.

Tim was getting close. His chest burned with it, but he was closing the distance. The leader was about three times Tim’s size, but that made him slow, which Tim used to his advantage. 

One last turn lead them down a long alley with far fewer obstacles to jump over, and Tim took that as his chance. Putting one last burst of energy into moving forward, he could reach out and touch the man before him. So, he did. He leapt forward and used all his momentum to send the both of them tumbling to the ground, pinning the man’s arms behind him. 

“Get off- you little shit,” the criminal squirmed violently, pinned face down as he was. Tim was fully sitting on his back, using his entire body weight to keep him down and frankly unconvinced that was enough. Tim was strong, but he couldn’t hold someone like this forever. “I ain’t getting taken down by some pipsqueak-ass kid. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Tim used his position to secure handcuffs around the man’s wrists, trying to catch his breath. He might’ve secured them a little tighter than necessary, but knowing what this man did Tim frankly didn’t feel bad about it. 

Things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, but Tim had gotten the criminal in the end. This would just serve as… something to keep in mind for the next time he had to make a plan. Always double check the strength of the barricades along the predicted potential chase route.

Breathless and full of adrenaline, Tim forgot another much more important rule: Always pay attention to where your target is leading you.

[dreamgothgirl]

Quiet, The Winter Harbor

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Fem! Reader 

Warnings: fluff, smut

*inspired by the Mazzy Star song of the same name

———————————————————————

His whispers dripped from his lips like that sweet, fiery bourbon you loved tasting only from his tongue. Your hips ground against his; so needy yet in no rush. These moments didn’t come easily. Especially with him. The intimacy of quiet whispers and gentle touches; contrasting the harsh shoves and pulls accompanied by shouts of urgency and new orders of taking more lives. You didn’t like killing. Neither did he.

A quiet tear slid down your cheek as you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Something you were beginning to sadly get more used from hanging around him so much. Even so, you still shed a few tears here and there. Knowing those people you killed would never experience this feeling or any other feeling other than adrenaline, rage, and the anger of what they deem to be injustices or ‘the truth’. It hurt. But that was also exactly why you cherished these moments all the more. You two were the few lucky ones and he would be damned if he or you wouldn’t take advantage of that fact.

Through darkened lashes and blackened voids holding pools of a pale blue, he stared at you. The lieutenant staring at his top sniper on his team and, if it were up to him, the entire damn military. His hands delicately traced every scar, scratch, scab, and stitch you adorned on your body. You were self conscious of them at first. Now, after he’s seen them, you present them almost as trophies. Prideful and regret less. Whatever scars you had, you received saving your team. His touch sent your stomach rolling and your back arching, pushing your body against his own more than his hand that made its home in the small of your back.

“That’s my good girl,” his deep voice grumbled into your ear while you panted against his chest, licking his shoulder as his hand that was at your knee began to make its way to the back. A firm squeeze and slap of your ass made you gasp and whimper against his bare skin. Patchouli, gunpowder, and the faintest note of black pepper and gun metal filled your senses as his mask covered your nose from the deep, passionate kiss he gifted you from his naked mouth.

Even in the privacy and comfort of his own home, your own home, he refused to take it off. You weren’t offended. If anything you found it hotter. But what you wouldn’t give to trace your fingers over every pore, hair, stubble, or beauty mark he may have on his face just like he did your body. You panted, “Ghost…hah….Simon…please, baby…”

He gave a gentle, kitten like lick to your lips as he firmly held your thigh against his hip whilst rolling you onto your back. Mentally, he scoffed at the way you looked. Not because of you looked or sounded stupid, but because of the coincidence of it all. They called him Ghost. And he you were. Wrapped up in soft white sheets with the pale moonlight illuminating your being like a goddess. You were almost too pure for him despite the two of you being practically joined at the hip on the battlefield. You were beautiful. Angelic. Truly hauntingly beautiful. The only thing to make him look as though he was the one who’d seen a ghost.

You stared with a slightly furrowed brow and sparkling, half lidded eyes. You could’ve sworn you were higher than a kite had you taken something before this. Seeing your lieutenant, so stoic and unyieldingly intimidating now partially naked and above your fully naked figure. Vulnerable. Bare. Unapologetic and strong. So fucking strong. Ghost was TF 141’s protector. He made everyone hear the symphonies of machine guns and his stealth was equivalent to your clean whisps of your sniper rifle that always landed you your famous double headshots. But when you were together; peaceful and worshipping one another, you swear you heard the sweetest melodies. Like a mazzy star song on a snowy night. Just like this one.

More.

More tears began to fall.

More.

Your limbs wrapped around his large build, wrapping him in a sweet delicacy that he’d never felt before. And if he had, it didn’t compare to this one. For Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley would never forget the touch of the woman he truly loved. The woman who managed to remain that empathetic ray of sarcastic sunshine. The woman who saved his life outside of the battlefield.

More.

More desire to make you his bubbled in his chest and flooded his brain. His thumb gently wiped away your tears as you stared up at him with a quivering smile. “What’s the matter, my love?”

More.

Ghost began to kiss your trail of tears as delicately as he used to clean and dress your wounds. Even crying and tearful, you were as gorgeous as the stars in the deserts of Kazakhstan. You sniffled and shook your head, closing your eyes and drawing in a trembling breath as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Nothing…I’m just overwhelmed…,” you whimpered and kissed his lips after every word, “I love you.”

Kiss.

“I love you.”

Another.

“I love you…”

Ghost reciprocated every blessing your lips gifted. He held your hands in his own larger ones and whispered, “And…I as well, my love.”

Your lip quivered and a barely audible request left your chest in almost a sigh, “Say it…please, Simon…”

Ghost furrowed his brow slightly and held your body close as he sat up with you now on his lap. You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his neck to inhale the scent of his musk and balaclava. His lips left kisses on your shoulder that felt as faint as a phantom. You were so precious to him. More than you’d ever know. He’d always seen you almost as a porcelain doll. Delicate but still ‘bloody unsettling’ with your skills. Almost like their lifeless eyes. Something he was proud to tell you, you didn’t have.

He whispered and laid back with you on top of him, “I love you, y/n. My goddess.”

You bit your lip, trying not to sob from the gratitude of him being alive as it consumes you the more he held and spoke to you. “My savior….my hero.”

His heart skipped a beat. It filled with pride and a need to keep you close. The need to keep you safe. The need to keep this moment alive. He could pleasure you whenever he wanted. But this wasn’t something he was used to nor received even once in a blue moon. Right now, it was the two of you against the world. And he’d go to hell and back if it meant you were still smiling and giving to him. Giving him all of you as he did.

“No more crying, love. Lets have a smile then, yeah?” he requested as he pulled away just enough to see your face. Those strong fingers followed by his muscular tattooed forearm brushed a piece of hair behind the shell of your ear before you held the same hand against your cheek.

You sniffled and gave a breathy chuckle. Ghost gave a satisfied grunt, “Atta girl. There’s my beautiful sunshine.”

Your free hand slid to the hem of his balaclava. For a second, the both of you remained still. You were waiting for him to retaliate. He was waiting for you to continue.

“Just for a moment. Understood?”

Trying not to reveal your excitement too much, you smiled a little more and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Slowly, his muscles gradually tensed as he began to feel more air hit his features until there was no warmth anymore. There, he sat. Your eyes drank in any and every feature they could and without thinking, you brought your dreams to fruition. You held the sides of his neck, leaving kisses on his forehead, nose, and cheeks but licked every inch of his jaw and neck you could see. A soft groan rumbled from his throat as you gripped his hair and began to softly grind against him again.

His muscles relaxed more and more as he fell deeper and harder into your trance. He gripped your hip, making you grind harder but a bit slower as well while his thumb traced, pushed, and dragged down your bottom lip. You held his wrist and stared with big innocent eyes; fluttering your lashes like long weightless butterfly wings. Ghost’s breath dusted your lips, your tongue licking the tip of his thumb like a snake investigating its prey.

The man finally pushed his thumb all the way in while you whimpered at his thrusts against your bare lower half. He put his balaclava back on earning a whine, “B-…but-“

“Hush, pet. Perhaps I’ll let you see more later on. For now…just…. let me,” he kissed your neck and shoulder while pulling his aching member out, ���shit…mmm….just let me…take care of you.”

The harsher his thrusts got, the more tears began to fall once again. Only this time, it was ecstasy and pure love that filled your womb and heart. You’d never felt so complete. Fulfilled. Loved. Simon felt the same. He watched as every muscle in your body flexed and showed their contours in the light of the gods flooding through the white curtains. Every sound, pant, hell even every squish and thrust was ensured to be tattooed deep into his memory. Simon wanted you to remember this night as vividly as he would. He’d left hickeys and love bites that always received a beautiful yelp and/or moan; encouraging his thrust to become harsher and needier.

Your whimpers turned into gasps while his back began to scar with deep scratches and reddened with involuntary slaps caused from sudden jerks of pleasure. His brow twitched a bit at a sudden thought, but nothing was going to stop or embarrass him from asking. Simon put his unmarked forearm in front of his chest horizontally and panted, “Bite. NOW. As hard as you fucking can, sweet girl.”

Without hesitation, you bit down on his forearm and widened your eyes at the deep, raspy ragged breaths he was releasing with a string of yesses from his much harsher, stronger thrusts. Ones that hit your favorite spots perfectly. You rolled your eyes and arched your back as you fell back onto the mattress; the stoic man now with his other hand around your throat and on top of you. Almost as if you were the enemy now.

Simon’s eyes were half lidded from pleasure but his brow was tight. A glare of lust, determination, and a carnal desire to have you permanently, eternally marked as his and his alone. No more stares from other men. No more subtly suggestive comments from the team. And certainly no more touches from the enemy on undercover missions. He buried his face in your neck as your walls clenched tightly around him, “That’s it…yeaah. Hah, fuck, that’s my girl. That’s my good fucking girl. You want me to cum inside, yeah?”

Though you couldn’t answer, even once he removed his arm, you panted out, “S-Simon…yes! Please!”

He loved the sound of his name on your tongue. It sounded right. It felt right. You made him feel human again. His anchor to as normal of a life as he could experience after what he was raised around. It was you that made him feel worthy of that name. And it was you that made him feel worthy enough to set aside the name ‘Ghost.’ Though that never sounded bad coming from you either. Combined with your comforting, girlish, and somehow ‘domestic’ scent? It shoved him into oblivion.

Pants turned to sighs and eventually faded into soft breaths colliding with each other while your foreheads rejoined again. Simon pretended to sleep purely to coerce you into your own slumber. Once his plan succeeded, he spent the rest of the night watching your chest subtly bump as it rose and fell with your stomach and full womb. He was glad you were on birth control. Not just because he was a firm believer that this world was far from fit for a child, but because he could never give up the peace and quiet of this grounding, passionate, life saving moment. One that he would always hope to have again.

A true love that he would always fight to the death for.

For you, he’ll always make sure he never turns into a ghost.

[otakusheep15]

I first found your stuff on AO3, and then came over to Tumblr to read everything!! it's amazing and I can't get enough. I have a request, if you're up to it: MC is physically hurt buy another demon. how do the brothers (+whoever you wanna write) react/take care of them?

First off, thanks for the compliments. It means a lot to hear that people like my writing. Secondly, I'm a sucker for these kinds of prompts, so I would love to write it.

I'm including Barbs cause he's my fave and I love him <3

Warnings: mentions of violence, injury, slight cannibalism in Beel's section, MC being beaten up, murder, and spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphie's section

Brothers (+ Barbatos) Take Care of Injured MC

Lucifer

His first priority is to make sure you're okay

Props you up on a nearby wall and uses his cape to cover you up

Then he goes after the demon that dares to hurt his precious human

It doesn't even take five seconds before that demon is nothing more than a puddle of red

Immediately goes back over to you

Picks you up as gently as possible and takes you back to the house

Finds a healing spell and heals you up as best he can

Lays you down in his bed and sits there until he deems you healed enough to stand on your own

Mammon

Just nothing but pure rage from him

His vision goes red at the sight of your injured body

Hardly anyone has seen him this mad, so the demon who hurt you can barely even move out of fear

He doesn't even waste his time with this one

Snaps the demon's neck and tosses them aside as if they're nothing

His head starts to clear up now that the threat has been taken care of

Has a bit of an adrenal crash, but is still able to get you home

Immediately calls for his brothers cause he knows he can't help you much

Refuses to leave your side while Satan patches you up

Levi

This is one of the few times he's glad he left the house

Doesn't even spare the demon a glance

They aren't worth his time

Instead, he just crouches down next to you and checks for vitals

He learned a lot during his time as Grand Admiral, including how to take care of an injured person

Rips off some of his clothing to help temporarily bandage any open wounds

Then practically rushed home

He hasn't moved this fast in centuries, so his brothers knew something was wrong

Takes you to the main bathroom where the first aid kit is stored and takes proper care of your wounds

Surprisingly good with stitches and such

Informs Lucifer about the demon so that he, Barbs, and Dia can deal with them

Satan

The demon doesn't even stand a chance against him

Like, they're dead before they even try to escape

He's able to calm down relatively quick and assess the situation

You're clearly not in critical condition, so that's a plus in his book

Handles you with the same gentleness he handles a kitten

Brings you home so he can find a healing spell in one of his thousands of books

Eventually finds one that isn't too strong for a human and heals you up

He brings you back to your room to rest while he goes to make you a drink

Offers to read to you once you feel a bit better

Asmo

Oh, he gets scary when he's mad

He just goes completely silent as he walks up to the scene

His face is totally blank as well

No expression as he grabs the demon and rips their neck out with his teeth

Yeah, that demon is dead

Doesn't wanna risk hurting you, so he calls Solomon to help you out

Luckily, Solomon was in the area and happens to know a good healing spell that won't drain what little energy you have left

Brings you back home once he knows you're okay and refuses to let you out of his room

Beel

He eats the demon

Just, straight up eats them

No remorse, no hesitation

It would be disturbing if you weren't in such pain

Very gentle with you, as he always is

Drops you off in his room so that Belphie can watch you while he gets the first aid kit

Bandages you up to the best of his ability, but Belphie does eventually take over

Starts following you every time you leave the house out of fear you'll get hurt again

Belphie

Another one to just completely ignore the demon

He can deal with that idiot later

Now, you need help, and he's gonna make sure you get it

Immediately brings you to Satan since he knows Satan can heal you

Once he makes sure Satan didn't miss anything, he takes you up to the attic

Also calls Beel up

Cuddles you close for the rest of the night

Major flashbacks to Lilith and the time he killed you

Refuses to let this happen again

Barbs

Yeah, that demon no longer exists in any timeline ever

He just straight up deletes them from existence

Takes you to the castle to heal you up

Bandages every wound with care and precision

Calls Luci and lets him know that you'll be spending the night at the castle

Keeps you in his room for the night to make sure all of your injuries heal properly

Brings you back to the house the following morning

That was really fun to write. Thanks again for the request!

[lilragekitten]

First gen trio is done!

I just got to give a thorough washing and do the white outline but we're finally finished!!

[lilragekitten]

one of those generically cheerful Bless this Home (and all who enter) signs, but instead it says Memento Mori (remember that you must die)

[cripple-cat]

Maya Headcanons Because I Feel Like It

her favorite foods are some of the nastiest combinations of things that she doesnt seem to understand should absolutely never go together like sardines and peanut butter but no one can convince her its gross

she is only content to wear dresses if she doesnt have to wear fancy shoes with them

she carries a traumatic pride in her siren tattoos and abilities because of her upbringing that she doesnt hide but will never talk about willingly

she plays the dumbest echo games to pass the time

she says cringe culture is dead and never judges anyone else for the things they enjoy but also calls herself cringe

she adopted a spiderling once and promptly forgot about it and didnt remember until she accidentally fast travelled to sanctuary with it and it started freaking out about being fast travelled

she carries a set of photos in her holo deck that no one is allowed to see and everyone assumes are sentimental in some way, when they are, in fact, just tiny inspirational kitten photos

she once grabbed zer0s hand because theyre friends why wouldnt she hold hands with her friends and they stared at her for too long and then stared at their hands for too long and stared at the ground for too long and it got really awkward and zer0 said "Well, this is awkward/Do I have enough fingers?/I am uncertain." and it got too awkward to keep holding hands but it was also too awkward to stop so she just stood there until they let go to go do something else

following that incident zer0 did give her a very awkward and unnecessary apology gift in the form of a cool class mod they found that they covered in sticky notes with doodles on them

which sparked an ongoing gift trade every once in a while where they just give each other cool shit covered in sticky note doodles

they both keep all the sticky note art

she and krieg make friendship bracelets with tina on their downtime

she learned all her friendship bracelet skills from krieg but everyone thinks tina taught her all these intricate weaving techniques

krieg does anything she asks so she asks him to tell her when he doesnt want to do what shes asking because she knows what it feels like to do what you dont want to for someone else no matter how bad it is and she thinks its very cute in a very sad way when sometimes hell violently shake his head when she tries to give him a friendly pat on his arm and will give him the space he wants until he makes it explicitly clear hes okay with touch

tina invited her and krieg and zer0 to a dress up tea party but krieg and zer0 had nothing "fancy" to wear so she haphazardly stitched a dress out of salvaged bandit shirts for krieg and gave zer0 a sundress shed saved and kept from somewhere and both of them loved their new outfits so much that they didnt take them off for weeks

sometimes she drinks with axton and sometimes she just hangs out with him while hes drinking and they gush about hot people and sexy guns and inspirational kitten posters

he sends her memes and asks for judgment on his bad flirting

shes not as close with salvador but they still find time to rage over uno every couple weeks and its the best bonding experience theyve had with each other so far

she and gaige get up to hijinks like its nobodys business, which it isnt

maya actually LOVES pranking people and gaige is one of the best people to do that with

they bond over growing up in more "civilized" places and learning that they like life on pandora much better even if the healthcare is some shady unlicensed guy with big needles and food isnt usually that good and they slaughter on a regular basis

she comes home living her life the way she wants to with people she loves and trusts and is content knowing that she doesnt know what tomorrow brings but she has a family now and even if theyre gone one day or shes gone someday theyll always have had this, even just for a little while

i spent so long writing this and i need to go to bed i just needed to talk about her i love her so much

ill probably make more of these for everybody

[muffindaddystyles]

Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓

IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3

39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."

It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.

She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.

This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.

“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.

“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.

“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.

His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.

“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.

“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.

He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.

“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.

“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.

“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.

“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.

They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.

“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.

“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.

“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.

“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.

“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.

“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.

If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.

He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

His heart weeps.

His soul aches.

When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.

He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.

She was the happiest he had ever seen her.

It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.

Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.

“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.

“No.” Niall sighed.

“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.

“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.

In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.

Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.

He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.

He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.

To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.

his only reason to live.

His only beloved.

.

The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.

The spring being their heartiest month.

“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.

“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.

Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.

She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.

Their ever source of happiness.

Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.

A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.

Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.

Never.

Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.

“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”

“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.

“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.

“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.

Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.

“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.

“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.

“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.

“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.

“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

Could you write a reunion fic as a sequel to the Heisenberg 'alone time' that you wrote? While smut would be wonderful, I'd just be grateful for apologetic Karl forced to be humble for once in his life.

(Also im DYING to know what he did, did OC/Reader discover his Soldats or about Rose? Im so curious and itching for more)

Your writing is awesome and I hope to get to read more Heisenberg goodness from you!

A/N: Thanks so much and I'm glad you guys are enjoying what I'm writing, sorry if it took so long and I'll be happy to answer more asks (including angst and fluff) for RE8. Sorry if this is so damn long but hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. Also decided to make it gender neutral as I didn't want anyone to be left out.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, The reader riding Karl, The reader not afraid to talk back to Karl, Stitching, Cursing/Inappropriate Language, Oral, Kissing, Arguing, power bottom' Karl, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, Fluff, and nearly 8000 words.

It's been far too long since you have seen that man and you hoped not to see him for as long as you both may live, for a time you thought it was just 2 people with different paths that force them apart but in a way you couldn't be more wrong. You understood and still understand his need to get rid of his troubling and frankly corrupt family, you both shared a dream to run away from the Village and to live somewhere with beautiful sights. To have some form of happiness even if it doesn't last, sure normal life may seem boring but it's all that you both wanted, happiness away from reminders of Miranda and the rest of his seemingly fucked up family. But what it took to for him to get it, his plan that he seemingly thought was so brilliant only made you boil with rage and painful reminders of your past is brought from the dark corners of your memories and into the light of your mind. Children. They're so innocent, good, and pure ... they bring out everything in people, children are something that you hold near and dear to your heart. Children are everything that the world isn't, at least until they're forced to grow up and deal with the cruelty of the world. This wasn't the first time that you had disagreed or fought with Karl in your mind, but what really caused you to boil over was his plans.

A heavy huff slips from your lips as your heavy steps full of anger echoed throughout the factory, your hands are balled into tight fists and your fingers trembled along with your body, you just couldn't fucking take it. You weren't going to stand by and turn a blind eye to sacrificing an innocent child for your happiness, you weren't going to and Karl as usual tried to convince you into it. Make it seem like it'll be worth it in the end. He's stomping after you, following after you like a dog and you can hear him desperately trying to get you to stay, you keep your eyes forward and keep making your way towards the exit. Just as the door is in sight, he reaches out to grab your wrist causing you to gasp before trying to pull out of his grasp, he pulls you firmly towards him and makes you meet his eyes. His green eyes are clouded with ... desperation, they're soft and vulnerable but it didn't phase you. Not one bit. "Come on, (Y/N) ... you know that I'd do anything for you. ... You know I love you ... that's why I have to do this, kitten. You have to fucking understand ...!" He pleads with you, you turn away from his face, that bitter taste still remains on your tongue and his words fall deaf to your ears. "You don't understand! You don't understand at all! You're in your own fucking bubble ...! I can't do this! I can't live with the fact that the man I'm in love with is willing to sacrifice an innocent child for a chance at happiness." You growl at him, your words are breathless and harsh and it stings like poison to his soul, his expression begins to slowly fade into resentment. A look you had never seen before, especially towards you. "Listen to me! ... The fruits of our labor shall come ... but it all comes with a little sacrifice." He barks, his grip on your wrist slightly tightening with his anger rising as he tries to plead with you, get you to understand but you could care less. "Then I don't want to share that kind of happiness or freedom with you at all ...!" You bark back, your words are dripping in poison and there isn't much care behind them, a huff leaves your nostrils and you once again try to get out of his painfully tight grasp but he wants you to hear him. Fuck. "I thought ... fuck ... I thought you fucking loved me. All those nights, all those late-night talks, the passionate love we made ... I guess it meant fuck-all to you, huh? I guess you never gave a fuck about me ... I wanted you to ... I wanted you to understand." Karl seethes, his words are in a low growl and his green eyes are clouded with bubbling rage and fury. Fuck.

"I did love you, Karl. I still do but you have to leave or do something, I don't fuckin' know but there should be a limit to the price you're willing to pay for a chance at freedom. ... I'm not willing to. This ... this brings back too many painful memories, I would never let myself live if I let her die." You almost sob, your anger that was once boiling and alive was now being put out by the melancholy that rested deep within your soul. That baby reminds you so much of ... your history. You never told him about your past and the trauma you somewhat suffer from it that makes you long and ache for freedom. But now wasn't the time. At all. "I can't do that ...! You know I can't ...! You can't leave me, (Y/N) ...!" He shouts at you, desperately clinging to his relationship that is burning, crumbling right in front of his very eyes, he's trying so hard to save it but the thought quickly floods in what if he can't save what you have? His jaw clenches and his throat begins to tighten, breaths become hard to even get out and you can hear his low growl of rage and sorrow echo through your ears. Your throat had tightened the moment he reached out for your hand and now the tears were swelling in your eyes, leaving them uncontrollably. "I love you, Karl. But this is the end of us. The end of our story together." You managed to choke out as his expression softens yet he's stiff, a frown is plastered on his lips, and doesn't seem like it's leaving anytime soon. Regrets plague his mind, "I regret ever opening up to you. Fuck, I never should've let you into my life especially if you were gonna fuck me over and leave me alone." He thinks to himself and immediately lets go of your wrist, he forces on a blank expression and forces his tears to be hidden away, he pushes away his heartache and goes back to the only way he knows how to not fall apart, to not lose himself and to become weak.

"I never wanna see your fuckin' face again. Leave. Don't even think of coming back. You fuckin' ... you fuckin' hurt me ..." He grunts and growls at you, even lightly pushing you towards the door before turning his back on you as he crosses his arms. Fuck. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused." You manage to say in a whisper, wiping away your tears and sniffling to yourself before leaving out that door and never looking back, it was hard leaving him behind to wallow and experience his pain alone that you caused. But you stand by your choice that you couldn't stay if he had to use Rose for his plans. Still, he plagued your dreams, still had nightmares about that man, about losing him in so many graphic ways. You tried to live your life, going to work and just trying to find a way to live without seeing Karl ever again at least you thought. You never forgot him. It was around 2 in the morning and you managed to sleep for just a few minutes until your phone rang obnoxiously loud, ringing and vibrating against your nightstand. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and an annoyed groan left your lips before you picked up your phone, though you had lost his number you knew it was in that village and it meant that he was the only one calling you. You almost want to toss your phone across the room, a familiar bitter taste begins to coat your tongue and you slowly take in a breath staring at the phone in your hand. "God fucking damn it." You curse bitterly, regretfully pressing the answer button on your phone, scratching at your head you answer with a bitter and low "hello" that is answered with heavy ragged breaths. Coughing soon follows after and echoes through the phone. "What the he-" You begin to ask before you're interrupted by his sudden cursing and rage-filled words. "Stupid fucking Ethan Winters ... the bastard ... couldn't even ... finish the job ..." He coughs into the phone, blood pools in his gut, fuck he was ruining one of his favorite shirts and an empty swallowing pain aches through his stomach. But he barely cared.

"The fuck are you rambling about, Karl ...?" You ask harshly, standing up on your feet as you press the phone to your ear, waiting for an explanation. "Oh, fuck off! You wouldn't understand ...! Or care!" He howls back before you can hear him cough once again before a wince soon slips from his parted lips, an agitated expression twists onto your face. "You must've thought I would care if you thought to fuckin' call me. Tell me what's up or I swear I'll fucking hang up." You bark at him, clenching your fists tightly as heavy ragged breaths left your body in the presence of your anger. " ... If you do give a damn ... then your ex is bleeding the fuck out in his factory ... with no knowledge of medicine and shit." He coughs out, he presses his hand firmly onto his large wound, fuck was he in bad shape and Ethan Winters had fucked him up but like a coward left him alive. "I might be there. Keep pressure on the wound and try not to die, dickhead." You huff in a ragged breath before hanging up quickly, in a way you thought it was karma for him wanting to use a baby and possibly murder a baby to get rid of his toxic and frankly not real family.

You sit back down onto your bed with a heavy sigh leaving your lips and a question on your mind. Was it gonna be worth it? He could be trying to trick you, you thought to yourself and really questioned if you should drive there and help him supposedly. As much as you wanted to be bitter, to hold onto that resentment but your heart and soul ached to see that filthy man, it called out to him desperately. Your heart sang to see him, to hear him despite your mind's warnings and reasonable viewing of the situation. Like a dumbass, you listened to your heart and began to get dressed, you threw on some old coat and a pair of washed-up skinny jeans, you grabbed a med-kit and some stitches and quickly rush to drive to the hidden and eerie village. With your foot pressed hard on the gas pedal, you kept wishing and praying that he'd be fine, that the waste of gas and the risk of being pulled over by cops worth it. When you finally make it to the factory, it's grim and dark and seemingly stopped working, the smoke that came from the factory is gone, the noise and the racket that his factory produced every second. You quickly get out of your car, medkit, and tools in your arms as you enter, you can hear his heavy strained breaths echoing through the factory that is now seemingly dead. Lifeless. A series of coughs leave his lips as he sits slumped up against the side of his bed, his blood drips and oozes off his hand, covering his stomach wound as the pain just continued, it still ached and stung like salt on an exposed wound. His head is dizzy with a haze over him, fuck was his head aching like a motherfucker and everything on his body ached and cried out in pain. "Karl ...?!" He hears you shout desperately searching for the man, he could hear the distress in your voice, the panic that came in your hurried and seemingly quick steps. "I-I'm h-here ..." He weakly responds in a low whisper, blood begins to coat his tongue and the unfamiliar taste of iron rests upon his tongue. You hear his cry weakly and you quickly rush to his bedroom, heavy breaths leave your lips in your pursuit to find Karl before he bleeds out or chokes on his own blood. What an idiot ...

He's in seemingly worse shape than when you left, his lips are beginning to become tainted with his own blood, many small wounds were all over him but the most concerning was the one on his stomach. He's coughing and trying to take in oxygen, trying to taste something other than iron on his stomach and he turns to find you, standing there before him. Damn. He forces on a wide toothy grin when he meets your gaze, damn he could feel the tension and could see that dark haze in your eyes, full of disappointment and resentment. "So we f-fuckin' meet again, huh?" Karl coughs out as a short series of chuckles soon follow after, he's trying to keep what little pride he had intact. He couldn't be seen as weak after you broke him, you left him in pieces and chose to leave him because of some stupid sacrifices he had to make in pursuit of the happiness and freedom you deserved. "So we do, asshole ... let me guess, the plan that you were so persistent on working didn't fucking work ... what happened to never come back?" You growl at him, crossing your arms as bitterness seemingly runs through you, you could feel your heart thump in your chest and your hands curled into tight fists. " ... That doesn't m-matter right now. I just n-need your fucking help!" He snaps, his words strained and choked before a series of coughs soon leave his lips. You slowly take in a breath, considering whether to just hand him the medkit and fucking peace out but you know the asshole lacks medical knowledge and would die. You let a deep sigh leave your lips before you kneel beside him, putting one of his arms around your shoulders, and with a loud groan of pain, you set him down on the bed, lying him down on his back and making sure he was comfortable. "I'll only be able to take care of this and stop you from bleeding out. You'll have to be still, Karl otherwise I'll fuck up." You advise him, getting up to go wash your hands and make sure that you don't get him infected whilst you're at it, you come back into his bedroom and open the medkit and begin to get to work on the wound. Karl would've never thought or had the pride to call up his ex, the one person he told himself he'd never need again is forced to put his pride on the side and is forced to let his ex attend to his wounds. All he can do is frown deeply, turning away from you to stare out the window, and all he can think is that Ethan Winters is still out there. He's gonna kill Miranda. That was his job, that was something he spent his life working towards doing, getting rid of that bitch Miranda and stealing her precious power. He's forced out of his thoughts when you begin to rub alcohol onto the wound causing a sharp stinging sensation to shoot through him, he grits his teeth at the stinging and almost burning sensation plaguing his body. "Warn me next time, will ya?" He says before a heavy cough soon follows, you sigh deeply as you continue to rub the alcohol on his wound gently, making sure it doesn't get infected and die from an infected wound.

"Warn you? ... It's just rubbing alcohol not a lighter." You respond, rolling your eyes at the man before you as you set down the towel and begin to pull out your thread and your needle. If he thought the alcohol was painful then he is truly in for a rude awakening. "This is gonna be painful, Karl ... I'll try to be quick with it." You state, somewhat warning him of the pain to come. "Please do ... I can't wait until you fucking leave ..." Karl bitterly spat, still unable to accept the fact that he needed you, that you were right, that he wanted you back into his life because, in his mind, it's better to bottle it up. "I won't treat you if you act like an ignorant dog." You spat back, your eyes meet his for a moment as an expression of anger twists onto your face, he begins to try and speak before a wince fell from his lips at the sensation of the thread going through his skin, he slams his fist down onto the bed and hisses at the pain once more. "Says you, you literally came in here pissed. Maybe just shut up and do ... ah!" He begins to say, his words are filled with anger and irritation before another sharp sensation of pain shoots through him. "Look, my bad alright but it's not every day you want to see your ex who was willing to ..." You begin to retort back at him, giving him a mean glare before he barks back. "You have to make sacrifices for everything! ... Now Ethan is going to get his daughter, probably gonna murder Miranda when I deserved the right to kill her. To watch the bitch suffer and choke on her own fucking blood." He growls, bitterness comes to him like air and he lets out a huff through his nostrils, a bitter and sour expression twists onto his face as he thinks of the fact that Ethan nearly murdered him, he thinks to the fact Ethan is going to steal what he worked so hard to get. "Whether you kill her or he does, she'd still be dead. ... You need to just ... let go of it and be grateful he let you live ... besides can't you finally be free out of that woman's grasp?" You say, less bitterness in your voice than before as another painful wince slips from his parted lips, he sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets out a heavy ragged breath. "That's if that fool can kill her. That's why I needed Rose. I needed her power to help me kill her. I needed it." He growls, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration.

"Did you ...? If Ethan nearly killed you then you severely underestimated how powerful he is ... probably can rival Miranda's power or maybe it's ... it's because he loves his daughter so much, it drives him to keep going." You say, your once bitter expression faded into something more dreary as you are reminded of your past, you would've done anything for that child. He scoffs to himself, turning away from you as you stop stitching him up as a truly bitter and painful expression twists onto your beautiful face. You force his face towards your own and gaze deeply into his eyes, you want him to feel, to see the pain that you felt and he did feel it. "You act like it's so terrible to be human ... it's so terrible to fall victim to your emotions ... that man loves his child just like how you loved me. He would've sacrificed anything for that child, he was willing to try and kill you, he was willing to kill Lady Dimitrescu, he was willing to do it all. That's what being human is. That's what's strong, so fucking strong." You exclaim, slowly inhaling a breath into your nostrils as silence quickly fills the air between you both, you can see the realization in his eyes flicker before him and how he softens in a way. Licking your lips, you push him back and hide that urge that was a habit you had, leaning to kiss him whenever your eyes met his whenever you saw how he softened before you. You missed that so much. You didn't say anything more, you go back to stitching up his stomach wound with an unreadable expression on your face, it was a mixture of pain and frustration and Karl saw it but most of all he saw your pain. It reminded him of his own. He would do anything for you. If you wanted him he would take you back in a heartbeat and he was afraid to admit that. Afraid to admit that he was still weak to you, still weak under your human ways that he used to relish in with you and he was afraid of being open, being hurt, being vulnerable, and falling victim to you in case you left him again. In a way you were weak to him too, stubborn as well but more willing to open up to him, to be vulnerable in front of him, willing to take the bait if it meant you would get hurt again. You were almost numb. To it. The pain that he had caused you but it was still there, stinging you at whatever moment it got and you let it become what you see Karl as. Another reminder of your pain, another man willing to sacrifice whatever for a taste of freedom and revenge. But despite that you loved him.

"I apologize for acting like a bitch when I came in here. I just ... I never thought you'd call or need me ever again and I didn't think I needed you either." You say in a somewhat soft breath, you meet his eyes for a few moments before turning your attention back to his wound and he turns towards you, licking his lips before he runs his finger over his bottom lip. "Thank you." He says smartly with a prideful smile soon curling onto his lips before you roll your eyes at him, you bite your tongue to stop any laughter from coming out. "Come on, you have manners don't you Karl? You acted like a bit of a dick too. Or is it too low of Mr. Karl Heisenberg to apologize?" You tease, a natural warm smile curls onto your lips for a few moments, Karl's heart feels light once more and it pulsates in his chest at the once familiar sight he used to see all the time, he missed that smile. Chuckling, he looks down and can feel the bitter irony taste on his tongue begin to fade away slowly but surely it is. "I apologize for acting like a dick earlier. There. That make you happy?" He says, rolling his eyes to himself before you nod with a chuckle soon falling from your lips, your hair had changed, your fashion sense had as well but you were still the same with that warm smile that made him nearly have a heart attack. "Alright, I should be done in a moment ... I'll clean your wound once again and make sure it doesn't get infected ..." You say once more, your tone has returned to its initial seriousness and he sighs to himself, just when he thought you were letting the mask fall, just when he thought things might be going back to normal. "It's fine, do what you have to do ..." He responds, waving his hand in a motion to allow you to keep doing what you were doing. You continued for a few moments longer, trying to stay focused on stitching his wound up but suddenly thoughts starting appearing in your head, what if things could go back to normal? What if you can be free together now? What if you can share happiness with him? Maybe you were an optimistic fool but having hope that things might change between you two is something that you happily looked forward to.

"Alright, I'm done. You shouldn't bleed out and die and ... I'd say try not to fuck up your stitches. But I should be going if I am not of any help to you anymore, Karl ..." You say lowly, reaching out to seize your medkit before he suddenly grabs your wrist, just like the last time you saw him causing you to nearly jump at the sudden grasp on your wrist. He realizes what he's doing from your somewhat distressed expression and lets go of your wrist quickly. "I'm sorry for ... that. But ... I'll probably need more medicine or more care to make sure I don't fuck up my stitches." He rambles, allowing himself to be vulnerable for just another moment, licking his lips his eyes meet yours once again and you see that familiar desperation in his eyes. But this time, you thought what if you stayed and so you set your medkit back down and let a deep breath leave your lips, you somewhat missed the familiar sound of his factory working and working tirelessly. "I hope you aren't planning on stopping Ethan. I'm sorry but it's just fucking stupid ... let him take care of Miranda and let him have Rose then you have what you want. Freedom. Happiness." You exclaim, sitting on the opposite end of the bed beside him with legs resting on the mattress. "I ... I want to. ... Miranda has caused so much pain, so much agony to me ... she doesn't see me as her son, nor will I ever see her as a mother. She's just ... she's just a crazy bitch who decided to steal a fucking baby and hope it could be a vessel for her fucking precious little Eva." He growls bitterly, a sour expression twists onto his face as he crosses his arms, still bitter to the core and revenge is still tainting his mind, no thought of freedom or happiness crossed his mind. Just Miranda. "I know. All she cares about is finding a body for Eva ... but you could finally be happy away from that crazy ass woman. Besides ... this plan has already been a huge failure." You exclaim in a gentle sigh, licking your lips before taking in a breath and so many memories flood back to your brain whenever you stare at something. Even this bed has so many memories.

"I ... I haven't failed. Besides blame Ethan for ruining an otherwise amazing plan. So much for working together." He spat, rolling his eyes at the thought that he was possibly bested by a mere human makes his blood boil. "This plan has nearly cost you your life and cost you a chance at even getting a sliver of freedom." You explain, another sigh leaves your lips as you stare down at the mattress beneath you, silence fills the room once more because Karl's pride won't allow him to see that maybe he had failed in his plan. "You even lost me ..." You muttered lowly almost in a whisper but Karl heard it and his expression twisted from bitter to disheartened and remorseful. "Look, I get that I hurt you and I hate it. But I needed to do it ... I needed to try and get rid of her! Get some kinda control over my own fucking life! I am done with being another experiment for her to use for her wishes! I ... I just want to be free ..." He exclaims, all manner of emotion is pouring out of him and seeping through his mask of charm, taking in a slow shaky breath as his throat tightens and memories flicker of his family, his real family. His mother, her warm smile that is reminiscent of yours, her warm comfy hugs and just remembering it had tears traveling down his cheeks as he clenched his jaw firmly. Your expression softened at the sight before you, a saddened and pitiful frown curls onto your lips as you can sense his pain, he really lost his life to being Miranda's experiment, to being her slave. A soft breath leaves your lips and you rest your hand upon his shoulder, expressing comfort as he inhales another shaky breath, pain is what became of him and he tried to fix himself only to become more broken.

"Karl, listen to me ... you're allowed to be happy ... you're allowed to smile, allowed to be angry, you're allowed to be happy." You coo, your words are gentle but powerful and your eyes are sincere, warm, and delicate to his eyes. He turns to you, eyes slightly puffy and an expression of pain is twisted on his face, letting a gentle breath when he looks at you, when he gazes into your eyes for a few moments, he's reminded of happiness, he's reminded of warmth, he's reminded of love and family. He still loves you. His eyebrows furrow before he wraps his arms around you, clinging to you desperately as he buries his face into you, still pain torments him when he can and it destroys his life. It destroyed his relationship with you, it destroyed everything around him and it almost destroyed him, he would've sacrificed everything just for freedom, just to have his life be his own. He sees it now, it comes to him painfully raw and honest and he almost hates it because of how he hurt you, the one damn good thing in his shitty miserable life. "I hurt you. I fucking hurt you and you came back for me? I ... I don't fuckin' deserve you ... at all ..." He exclaims, his words muffled into the fabric of your clothes as he can feel your arms wrap around him, your hands gently massage him and the simple gesture puts him at peace and ease. "I came back because as much as you hurt me ... you don't deserve this, Karl ... despite how I left you, I still care so much about you. Hell, when it's you I listen to my heart rather than my fucking brain. With you, it's different ... with you, I could never forget you. At all." You confessed with a soft sigh leaving your lips at the end of your words, your hands move to his long untamed grey and brown locks, you gently run your fingers through his locks and you nearly chuckle at the unique texture of his hair. "I didn't either, butterfly ... I hurt you and I see how I fucking hurt you, hell I didn't care if you left me I was still going to continue to plan despite how it hurt you. I'm an asshat. I wouldn't want to remember me if I did that." He exclaims, a gentle smile curls onto his lips as he stares up at you with a familiar smile that warms your heart, it leaves it jumping in your chest and leaves your stomach with butterflies.

"It's good that you see that and I hate that hurt you too ... I know that I left feeling so bad, so bitter about this whole fucking plan ... but this plan the only good thing it brought to you was bringing me to find your nearly dead ass." You chuckle, a wide smile curls onto your lips as a peaceful and joyful expression is plastered onto your face, another chuckle leaves your lips as a warm familiar smile remains on your lips. He can't stop himself from smiling as well, savoring these moments you share of nothing but pure joy, and he can't help but cup both sides of your cheeks. His fingers gently caress your cheeks, his smile warms your heart and your soul and the familiar sensation of his hands against your cheeks made you melt before him. Silence fills the room as he admires you, your beautiful features, and everything along with it. "Out of everyone in the world, I could never hate you ..." He chuckles almost like a giggly child at a toy store, a wide smile remains plastered on his face and his soul is singing, calling out for you and his heart thrashes wildly in his ribcage. You let out a gentle breath and suddenly his lips are pressed gently against yours, your stomach is crowed and flooded with butterflies, your heart is pulsating in your chest, and everything is calling out to Karl. Moments after, he pulls away from your lips with a somewhat worried expression on his face, he questions was he moving too fast, did you not want him but his thoughts are put to stop when your lips collide passionately against his. It came to you so naturally and once the thought appeared in your head, your heart followed along with it along with your body, and here you were passionately kissing the man who you hadn't seen in over 6 months. He groans against your lips, savoring and relishing the familiar sensations that came as his eyes flutter close, he was such a fool, such a fool to not see that he was risking the only thing that mattered for a chance at even getting freedom. He was but a child ...

Groaning against his lips as you began to clutch a fistful of his hair, the kiss quickly grew deeper and more heated, heavy breaths left both your lips as you gently devoured each other's lips, greedy for the sensations it brought you both. Groaning into your mouth once more, Karl's hands slip your jacket off of you, he throws it to the floor and buries his lips into your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin earning a soft gasp from your lips at the sharp sensation. "Karl ..." You say in a ragged breath, hands still entangled in his locks of hair as he continues to kiss and suck on your neck, your body begins to heat up with arousal and your body begins to ache for Karl. "Damn ... I just can't get enough of you, can I?" He chuckles, grinning devilishly at you as his eyes glance at your lips once again, he pulls you into another heated kiss that has his tongue prying your lips apart. His tongue enters your mouth, his tongue grinds against yours and your tongues begin to dance erotically together causing both of you to moan against each other's lips at the tingling sensations that spread across your tongues. Karl's arousal begins to show with the bulge that swells in his pants, he continues to kisses you, moaning and groaning at the overdue sensation of a warm body against his. Pulling away from your lips, heavy ragged breaths leave both of your lips and he can't help but notice your flushed cheeks as a breathless expression remains on your face. "Do you want this ...? Do you want me, (Y/N) ...?" He asks in a ragged breath, his hand cups one of your cheeks, as he gazes intensely into your eyes, lust, and desire, clouded those beautiful eyes of yours and it was one of his favorite expressions on your face. "I want you so much ... I want nothing but you and your naked body to be mine ..." You answer, smirking devilishly at the man before you as a low chuckle soon leaves your lips, grinning widely at you he kisses your lips once again, cherishing the smooth and delicate feeling of your lips.

"Mmh, your lips feel amazing, darling ... I missed all of this, the kisses, the touches, the way you worship me ... I missed it all so much." He purrs lustfully as a chuckle soon follows after, taking in a breath he pushes you onto your back earning a gasp from you before he gets in between your legs. He stares at the tank top you wore, it hugged your body perfectly, and hell it exposed a lot of skin, though it was basic it was enough for him. You'll always be enough for him and more. "Arms up, darling ..." He chirps, you raise your arms, and off comes your tank top and your torso was immediately met with multiple kisses and bright hickeys that decorated your skin. Wrapping your arms around his chest, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, he lightly sucks on one as his other hand explores your torso, caressing your skin gently and with care. Your heart is thrashing, pounding in your ribcage, and heat floods through your being, arousal comes with that and it leaves you aching so terribly with a need for sweet release. Heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, licking your lips as you can only think of Karl, what he was going to do to you, what you were going to do to him. He takes your nipple out of his mouth, trailing kisses down your stomach as he gets lower and lower until he reaches your bothersome pants, letting out a growl he harshly pulls your pants down and throws them somewhere before he immediately buries his face into your crotch. His tongue moves gently, caressing all your sweet spots as the heat begins to boil up deep inside of you, you relished and savored the moist heat that caressed you in such amazing ways. Moaning against you, his hands wrap around your thighs to keep you from moving too much but he thought it was all about making you feel better, tonight was all about what you wanted, whatever you wanted you will have it. "Oh, Karl ...! Hah ... shit ... shit ..." You moan shamelessly, your hands clutch and grasp at his long locks of hair as heavy breaths are pried from your lips along with whispers of his name falling from those beautiful lips of yours. "Enjoying it, darling ... am I being good for you? Am I a good boy? Tell me I'm a good boy, kitten ..." He purrs erotically, his words roll gracefully off his tongue before he buries his tongue back into you, kissing, licking, and sucking on all of your sweet spots. "Good boy ...! Oh, so good ... fuck I missed your mouth so much ..." You whine needily, clutching at the sheets beneath you as you lick your lips, waves, and waves of heated ecstasy washes over you in sharp and powerful waves.

"That's it ...! Fuck, don't stop ... don't stop fucking me with that tongue of yours ...!" You cry out in a series of moans that are soon followed by ragged breaths, you grind your hips against his mouth eager and aching for some form of release, eager for more of the ecstasy he gives you. But he suddenly stops as he can barely hold himself back from taking you right here and right now, he begins to unzip his pants and fights to get them off. An annoyed expression twists onto your face as you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, grabbing him by his shoulders and turning him around towards the bed as you push him onto the bed with a devilish grin. "It's my turn, love ..." You chuckle as you begin to straddle his lap with your arms pressed into his chest and you begin to take him inside of you as a heavy breathless moan of his name leaves your lips the moment his thick cock fills you. It throbs and twitches inside of you, making you nearly jump at the sensation before you take all of his thick throbbing cock inside of you, the way he fills you is like no other, his cock stretches you and fills you perfectly. The way your walls clung and hugged his thick throbbing cock drove him insane, a heavy groan left his lips at the tight heat that surrounded and embraced his throbbing cock. "Oh, fucking hell ...! Shit ... so damn tight and ... hot ... come on, darling ride me nice and hard. Leave me at your mercy ..." He purrs devilishly as a long chuckle soon follows after, lust clouds his remarkable green eyes, his hands reach up to cup your flushed cheeks as a warm joyful smile curls onto his lips. You smile back at him, joy washing over you like a breeze as you rested your hands upon his shoulders and began to chase eagerly and joyfully after your sweet and euphoric release. Your hips grind and roll against his lap, heavy breaths are pried from your lips as heat begins to build and rise through your body, Karl's heavy ragged breaths can be heard along with yours as he wraps his arms around your neck. A low "fuck" leaves his parted lips as his eyelashes weigh heavy on top of his shut eyelids, sharp electric sensations of bliss shot through him every time your hips went lower. Burying his teeth into his bottom lip, a heavy groan leaves his lips at the blissful heat that envelopes his throbbing eager cock, all he can do is stare in awe at your expressions of bliss and ecstasy. It's so amazing.

"Mmh, baby ... you're so goddamn beautiful ... so exquisite. Come on, tell me how much you love me ... show me how much you've missed me ..." He purrs with a devilish smile on his lips, biting his lips soon afterward he places his hands on your hips gently moving them back and forth just to speed things up a bit. Your cheeks quickly become flushed at his words as you lightly squeeze onto his shoulders, heavy breaths still leaving your parted lips as you begin to throw your hips up and down onto his thick throbbing cock. It presses and drives into you eagerly, lightly hitting your sweet spot causing whines of Karl's name to be pried from your lips, licking your lips you entangle Karl into another heated passionate kiss that is so full of tenderness and consideration. "Karl ...! F-fuck ...!" You whine needily as you pull away from his lips, your eyes flutter at the bliss that courses through you as the heat floods through you. Your teeth grind against your bottom lip gently before you begin to slam your hips down onto his throbbing cock that perfectly curled onto your sweet spot as it repeatedly hits that sweet spot making his name fall from your lips again and again. "Oh! Karl ...! Mmh, Karl ...! It's so fuckin good, Karl ...!" You moan breathlessly, throwing your head back at the ecstasy that washes over you in burning relentless waves, skin hitting against skin echoed through his bedroom as your moans and heavy breaths are Karl's melody. Groaning deeply, his hands move lower onto your ass cheeks, wrapping his fingers around the area he lightly squeezes them with a chuckle following after, it's not a minute before he's nearly arching his back and a long whine is pried from his throat. "Fucking hell, sweetheart ...! Ooh, hah ...!" He whines deeply as waves and waves of ecstasy washed over him, he couldn't be happier and everything in his being felt like it could cry of joy. "Karl ... I'm gonna ... oh fuck ... fuck ... gonna c-cum!" You manage to say, heavy breaths fill your throat and your heart thrashes and pounds erratically in your chest, thighs tremble and shake against his legs, and your entire body throbs and aches. "Kiss me, oh please kiss me ... tell me how much you love me ..." Karl rambles in a series of heavy breaths as he wraps his arms around your torso, leaning in for another heated kiss as you continue to slam your hips down as hard as you can moaning shamelessly against his lips. Your entire body trembles and pulsates erratically as you had boiled over, heat travels through you along with sweet sweet ecstasy that left you nearly screaming his name against his lips. Pulling away from his lips as heavy ragged breaths leave your lips, you gaze intensely, it's not moments before your name falls breathlessly from his parted lips and his expression of joy quickly fades into one of ecstasy and relief. Sharp powerful sensations of ecstasy shot through him relentlessly as began to cling to you, wrapping his arms around you clinging to you and to what for a second feels so much like a damn dream.

Wrapping your arms around him, you find serenity in his cool embrace and you find serenity in the idea that things are gonna be okay, that things are gonna change from today to hopefully years from now. You smile into his embrace before pulling out of his embrace, moments later as you gaze into each other's eyes once more, passion and warmth clouded his green eyes. That look in his eyes like he was just so ... happy and like you're the one thing that matters in his erratic and wild world. "So ... Karl, what's next for us? ... After Miranda is dead and all that bullshit ...?" You question with a curious smile resting upon your lips, you rest in his embrace and he can't help but chuckle at your words. "Whatever it is that is next for you ... whether it's fucking staying here or leaving for better places ... you go and I'll follow." He answers warmly and confidently as a chuckle soon follows after his words. "Oh, so I made you my loyal dog, have I?" You chuckle, beaming at the man before you as he can't help but chuckle once more at your words. "In a way, yes you have ... made me weak for you ... made me unafraid to be myself around you. ... You are incredibly special to me, butterfly ..." He says in a gentle breath, smiling warmly at you as you can't help but flush different shades of red at his words. "You're even more special ... I love you more than you will ever know Karl ... and I've loved you all this time ... I hope I will never stop loving you. That no matter how bad things get that we will get through it together." You exclaim in pure joy as you both end up smiling sheepishly at each other before you rest your head in the nape of his neck and he wraps his arms around, hoping for a more optimistic and brighter future than he could've ever imagined.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

No More Secrets Part 2

Summary: You and ya Bestie move to Bludhaven looking for a fresh start. It is totally cool and you SO don't have a crush on him.

Charcaters: F!Reader x Dick Grayson

Words: 1.2k

An: Yay Part 2! I hope you like it. I forgot to mention before but this story will contain adult themes. It is for 18+ Minors DNI, you're not welcome, things are going to get hot real soon and I'm not cool with exposing you to that.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, kissing.

{Part 1}

Arriving home you opened a bottle of wine, pouring yourself a glass full to the brim. A bit spilling over onto the counter as you picked it up. Fuck it was good.

Putting the bottle on the table, glass in hand, reclining into the couch, heels clicking on the floorboards, with nothing to do but wait you sipped the wine and seethed in your skin. Another glass. You thought about Dick, remembering when he tried to teach you how to do a flip, his hands on your hips as he lifted you. The both of you falling down in a fit of giggles when you fell on your ass. Then there was the time you sat in the movie room at Mr Wayne's house, watching The Notebook after some idiot had dumped him. You had held him all night while he cried. Glancing down at your glass, you're surprised. Shit, this was going down fast, 35 minutes and nearly a whole bottle of wine later, you hear tapping on the window. He’s such a cheeky shit.

The wine had mellowed you out somewhat, you focus on trying to build your rage back up. Glaring at the window. He lied to you! He said he wouldn’t do that, Broke your promise! Bundling your fists together, digging your nails in as you stared at the window, narrowing your brow at the shadowed face in the glass. He didn’t even use the door, he knows he’s in trouble. Fuck, you make him wait, pouring yourself a fresh glass of wine, before stalking towards the window.

You unlatched the window, fixing your stare on the man smiling at you, flinging the window open. Was it going to slam? Unfortunately not. Your huff was met by sharp cheekbones and an apologetic grin. Fuck, his lips were wet, sweat dripping down his forehead. Why did he affect you like this? Fucker. Narrowing your eyes, the growling probably a bit too much, you fix your furious glare upon him, probably just looking like a drunk kitten.

“Nightwing, I presume” you attempted to yell at him, your words unintentionally slurring instead.

“Uhh, can I come in?” he asked sheepishly. You stepped aside, allowing him entry, moving back, jumping up to sit on the dining table. Your eyes drank him in, that suit FIT him, hugging in all the right places, making his arms look bigger, blue on black bringing out the colour in his eyes. You licked your lips, eyes staring hungrily at him.

“Like what you see, gorgeous?" He winked at you. fuck..

“Ye...” you started to say. No, you're mad. You're mad at him. He lied to you! “Are you serious Grayson?” you shout at him, slamming your glass down on the table, “I thought we moved here to get away from this.” you bark, waving your hands in front of you.

“That's my whole body," He joked "You haven't wanted to get away from it since we were kids.” Smartass. If he only knew.

“You know what I mean. What if something happens," You stared out the window, not wanting to give away your worry by looking him in the eye, you jumped down from the table," There isn't anyone here to stitch you up.” your eyes darting back to his face, before looking away, your feet are walking you closer. The pools in your eyes were filling and fast. No, don't cry.. you tried to bite them back. “I can't believe this is what you've been doing.” No, No, tears. “I thought you'd finally shacked up with some random woman” you waved your hand, dismissively, spinning around and wiping your eyes. This wasn't going to be another teary argument.

“Why would you think that?” Making a disgusted face. How did he manage to make that cute?

“Let's see sneaking out late at night" you began to list on your fingers, "Trying, poorly I might add, to avoid the question when I ask you where you've been, coming home every morning sore" Closing your fist, "Telling me…" stepping closer, getting right in his face," You weren't doing this shit anymore! What was I supposed to think?” you squeaked, definitely sounding like a kicked puppy, as you slapped him in the chest.

Your face was almost on top of him. You could smell him, Sweat, coffee and something distinctly him. He smelt like home. Your home.

You see the lines in his face as he tries to brush it off, “Nothing will happen to me. It's not as bad here, you don't need to worry" he placed his hands on your shoulders, "I needed to get out from under Bruce's cape.”

“You're not allowed to die on me.” you cried, slamming your hand into his chest.

Tears, those fucking traitors. His hand caught your arm, when you went to slap him again. You knew you had gotten close but Wow.. you could feel his body against you, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you even closer, his arm wrapping around your waist? Wait what?

“What are you doing?” you looked up at him, the liquor seeming to evaporate from your body, drawing your focus into his lips. What was he doing? Great question.

His other hand let go of your wrist to cup your cheek as his fingers stroked your jaw, wiping your tears away, "don't cry gorgeous, I'll be fine."

"Grayson," you whimpered, your eyes flicking from his lips to those bright blue oceans, "let go of me" you halfheartedly struggled, trying to break free of his grasp. You couldn't resist for much longer, the alcohol and his scent sending your mind spinning.

"How could you think- there's no other woman, man or anyone else," he leaned down kissing your cheek, his dark pupils flicking to your lips as he licked his own. His eyes searching yours through his domino mask, he smiled, seeming to like what he found, his pupils growing even wider, "how did I miss that," he muttered to himself.

"What- what are you-" you repeated only to be cut off by the intense look he was giving you.

“Something I should…”

No, there was no way he was gunna use that cheesy ass line on you. Interrupting him mid sentence you seized him by the shirt? Armor? Whatever, you latched onto it. Yanking that extra inch, your lips crashing into his. Your kiss was Hot, wet, devouring, Teeth clashing as your tongues meet in the middle. Fighting to taste the other first. Hands heavy on each other. He picked you up, closing your legs around his waist. Fuck, those arms. Lifting you like it was nothing.

{Part 3}

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

“I thought you didn’t want me.” for Meribela?

Thanks for the prompt!...that I'm filling six months later... Welp, better late than never! I don't write these two much, so here's hoping it works!

@dadrunkwriting

Merrill x Isabela

Rated: G

Tags: angst, immediately after the Arishok duel, iffy coping mechanisms

===

Smoke still lingers, heavy and soggy like a wet blanket dragged over Kirkwall's buildings and stairs as Merrill slogs her way back to the alienage. Blood still pools in the streets from the Arishok's assault on the city. Creators, everything in her aches, something bone-deep and exhausted; too many people needed help, and she needed something to pull her mind from the battle at the Viscount's Keep, so she exhausted her healer's kit and her remaining strength stitching up every wound she found.

Bela had come this close to dying; Merrill knows she'll be out of town on the first ship she can find. Hawke had almost died trying to save her, and it's still touch-and-go whether or not they'll survive their wounds. Merrill's mishmash little family is trying to shrink again. Maybe it's the way of her life, that she is to lose everyone she loves. The thought settles like rancid halla milk in her belly and raises her hackles with what promises to be another dry-heave.

She stumbles on the final stair into the alienage. Lancing pain shoots up her legs when Merrill falls to her knees. "Fenedhis—I'll fall and break my neck at this rate." She rubs her knuckles into her eyes for a moment before heaving herself to her feet.

"Careful there, kitten, careful." Warm hands land at Merrill's shoulders when she sways unevenly. "Looks like a stiff breeze could knock you over."

Merrill glares at the ground. "Thanks," she says, clipped, and shakes herself from Bela's grip. Merrill crosses her arms over her balled fists and stalks off toward her little cottage.

"Kitten, wait."

Merrill speeds up into a half-jog across the broken cobblestones. Bela swears and her jewelry chimes together discordantly as she follows. The cottage is a scant hundred feet away, and Merrill breaks into a run. Her heart bolts rabbit-fast in her ears.

"I just want to talk!"

Merrill flings herself at the door. There hadn't been enough time to lock it earlier in the afternoon when the Qunari had attacked, and in Mythal's mercy, it is in remarkable shape. The door groans as Merrill barrels inside, torn askew on its hinges in the assault, and it sticks in the frame when she slams it shut behind her.

Bela pounds on the other side a second after Merrill throws the latch and locks the door. "Merrill, come on—let me in!"

"I don't want to talk to you!" she yells back. Tears sting her eyes, and Merrill roughly wipes them away on her knuckles. Her nails bite half-moons into the heels of her palms. "Go away!"

A thud hits the door, followed by a long slide. Bela sighs. "I know I messed up, Merrill," she says. "And I—I've thought about it. A lot. You and Hawke must have... must have rubbed off on me or something. So I came back."

Another thump on the door, lower now—Bela slumps against the door and bangs her head lightly on the wood. She's staying, for now.

It hits Merrill dully, from a distance. Her own legs shake and she catches herself on the door. Sliding to the dusty floor, she lands hard, legs splaying before her.

"You made me feel like you didn't want me."

The tears come down in earnest. Merrill tips her head back and lets them drip down her cheeks. "You—you left that night. You've talked about returning to the sea and taking me with you, and you left me here." Her voice warbles and she wipes angrily at her face again. "I said I loved you, Bela, and I woke up alone."

Long fingers inch into the gap under the too-short door. They quest and find Merrill's hip, pet awkwardly at the hem of her shirt. "I know. I spent a long time ignoring it. And then a long time thinking about it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, I—" Bela knocks her head against the door again and curses a low streak. She sniffs roughly. "Merrill—oh Maker's taint, I'm not crying, for fuck's sake," she mutters to herself, so quiet that Merrill only just catches it. "Get it together."

Bela sighs. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, you know, once I started. Feelings are dumb, kitten, and here I am, having them. You know, this morning I wasn't sure what would be worse: having to face the Qunari and return the stupid tome, damn the consequences, or having to do all that and then face you," she says with an incredulous snort.

"People died because of them," Merrill mutters. Because of you, she doesn't say, because Bela knows that already and it's not helpful to bring it up right now. Bela can talk about that with someone else. Merrill is too tired to do it. She wipes her eyes and draws her knees to her chest, bends down enough to rest her head on them. "What do you really want, Bela?"

Silence meets her question. Merrill gnashes her teeth. "At least do me the kindness of answering me," she calls through the door.

"Believe me, kitten, I'm trying," Bela grunts. The door thumps again. "What—" She cuts off on a cough, clears her throat, and tries again. "Do I still... Is this still safe harbor?"

"Safe harbor," Merrill murmured. Her hand found Bela's and she laced their fingers together. Bela blinked, almost like she was surprised, but surely she knew, right? Merrill had said it in all the ways she knew how—murmured against her skin in the night, woven in the living shield Merrill casts in battle to protect her back, hammered into the fine edge of the dagger she'd saved for over most of a year to have commissioned for Bela's last birthday. Tonight she whispered it into Bela's heart, skin sweat-slick and chest heaving, feverish. "Ar lath ma, Bela, ma vhenan. You always have a home with me."

Bela smiled. "C'mere, kitten," she said, and she pulled Merrill into a bruising kiss, her trembling hand wandering down Merrill's ribs and over her belly with a singular purpose.

And then Merrill woke up alone.

"I want to come home, Merrill. If you'll let me." A beat. "If you'll have me."

"Bela—"

"I know I'm bad at this, kitten. I know. And I want to try anyway. For you. For our misfit family."

Merrill knocks her forehead on her knees and squeezes her eyes shut. "And I'm just—I—Creators, Bela! What am I supposed to do?"

"Let me in so I can apologize properly, I hope. It's dark and fucking cold." She falls silent. "I really am sorry, Merrill, and I want to make it better."

Something twists in Merrill's gut, wounded and hurting and full of aching rage. She drags in a shaking breath. "You'll have to talk to the others," Merrill says. "You'll have to, you'll have to apologize, and explain, and all that. And you'll have to ask them for forgiveness, too, especially Hawke, and maybe they'll all be nice and give it to you. Then maybe..." Merrill sniffs and wipes her face on her trousers. "Then maybe you can ask me for forgiveness, too. Later."

"...that's fair," Bela sighs. She thumps her head on the door again. "Really screwed everyone over, didn't I?"

Merrill unfolds herself and stands up with a groan, wobbles against the door. She scrapes her nails down the wood. "You'll need to talk about that with all of them. I'm—I'm going to bed."

She gets a step away before she turns back, some needy thing scraping at the inside of her ribcage, and yanks open the door. Bela scrambles to her feet; she barely has time to protest before Merrill's got her hand wrapped around Bela's wrist and pulls her, hard, into the cottage. Merrill kicks the door shut behind them and leans back against it, tugging Bela to follow until her arms bracket Merrill in.

There's no doubt as to what this is. Surely Bela knows. Surely Bela understands. Merrill can't say it any plainer, not again.

"I thought you said you're going to bed."

"I am. We are. If you want."

Bela searches her face. "It's not this easy," she whispers, her brows pinching lightly in confusion.

"No," Merrill says. She reaches up to cup Bela's cheek, rubs her thumb along the edge of her bottom lip. "But it has been a long, terrifying day, and I'm tired, and I—" her voice warbles again "—I've missed you so very much."

Relieved warmth pools in Bela's gaze when it flicks to Merrill's lips. "I've missed you, too, kitten." She dips her head and gently, more than Merrill expects, presses their mouths together.

She sighs into it and lets her hands fall to the neckline of Bela's tunic, curling into the fabric and anchoring her pirate queen to her. "If you stay, we're going to have to talk about all of this in the morning," Merrill murmurs.

Another wave of tears threatens to fall. If.

She shakes her head against the thought and winds her arms around Bela's neck. Her heart hammers in her chest, breaking it open; Merrill has to hold it together, smother everything down against the lean lines of Bela's body to keep her heart from pelting into Bela's hands again.

"I know."

It's not fair that Bela could just leave like that, before. That Merrill wants her anyway, now. Bela trails kisses along the edge of her jaw, nudges her into tipping back enough that she can trail her lips down the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her laughter ghosts over Merrill's skin when she can't help the shudder that trembles through her.

It's not fair. Bela was gone for months, and Merrill loves her just as much now as then, even though it burns.

She closes her eyes at the frisson of selfish want that bolts through her. I know, Bela says, and Merrill desperately wants to believe.

But Bela always told her she's too trusting, too open-hearted, and where has that gotten Merrill so far? Empty-handed, empty-hearted, and lonely.

Merrill drags in a shuddering breath. The morning will come soon enough, and she can't waste any more time worrying about the inevitability of Bela's coming departure.

"Take me to bed," she whispers, and she lets herself be hauled off, curled tight into Bela's embrace, unable to let her go for even a moment.

She’s survived the dawn of every morning before. She will survive it again.

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

I have lost my mind. That must be it… second childhood?

Dunno.

I have always loved old toys., the shabbier the better. A true collector of antique toys desires the pristine, still-in-the-box, never played with things which look brand new.

I’m not that guy. I treasure the chewed-on, the loved until the stuffins came out, the noses kissed off - the surviving warriors of childhood.

This old doll was left over after last week’s auction at Clabby. In a cardboard box with a small group of newer teddy bears and a plastic baby doll from the 80’s.

She has survived pretty much intact since the early 1900’s - even though her bisque head would have smashed from being dropped even once. Her blue glass eyes still close, her wig is original, and her composition jointed body is still strung tightly together on elastic which still maintains its bounce. Sure, her hands are a little cracked open, and somebody poked her in the tummy - leaving a dimple - but she was sitting there quietly waiting…

Three bucks, and she came home with me. (Her friends the teddy bears have been claimed by Barnum, who carries them gently around the house and tries to give them back when you’re sitting down watching TV)

She was naked, and I decided to sew her a dress.

I’ve had the most wonderful couple of days up in the studio, sewing with the door open and the kittens playing beneath my chair while I worked. Something about sewing becomes a fugue-state, the simplicity of pushing a needle through fabric brings back memory of past times when you did the same.

Not sewing for vast stretches of time, I am reminded of sewing the quilt I made to bring with me to art school in 1974. I wanted something special for my first dorm room, and chose the fabric with my favorite colors. Rust brown, steel blue, and warm grey - colors which I still favor to this day.

I remember sewing for an entire month - making a quilt after my dearest friend Bruce died of AIDS. I was with him as he drew his last breath. I closed his eyes. I didn’t leave the house. The act of quilting was a kind of healing, and a form of prayer for somebody who does not pray.

I remember my grandma Mildred who somehow found the time to sew a complete wardrobe for my 1961 fashion doll when I was a kid. Slim skirts, Jackie Kennedy box jackets, and a tiny white cotton blouse with a bow - I have nothing but much-belated respectt for her infinite skill, and dedication of purpose.

My own mom sewed two outfits for another antique doll I loved, Christmas 1966. I don’t have a way to reconcile who she was to me - and who the person was that took the pains to sew complex fashions for my doll. The act of creating little dresses in satin and lace - defies comparison to the act of throwing her own daughter’s clothes from the second story window of my room as the school bus pulled up to let me off. Everyone on that bus saw the madness and rage as she flung my belongings into the bushes. She was shrieking her anger from the window as my jeans and underwear rained down. How could the woman who so hated me, spend her time sewing clothes for my doll?

But I digress.

I spent three happy days stitching clothes for the doll - lace-trimmed petticoats, a blouse with mutton-sleeves and lace from a sacrificed dresser-doily, and a skirt with a bustle.

I even made socks.

The kittens purred and played, the Fall breeze came in the open door, and I looked out across the valley while ii paused to thread the needle.

Sewing brings back ghosts.

Some you invite to come in and sit a spell. Some you banish back to hell.

[starlightrows]

2 — The Bounty Hunter

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Brief description of injury

Summary: A change in the weather brings back a familiar face

Warm summer nights fade into crisp autumn days. You spend your days tending the garden behind your inn, working to make sure you have enough dried and canned goods for the coming winter, providing room and board for whoever happens to pass through and can pay for it, the shadow cat that likes to hang around your property has a litter of kittens. And you continue to think about Boba Fett, the supposedly fearsome bounty hunter with a kind smile.

You often find yourself wondering if he will come back. Perhaps he would come in later in the season, when the snows have fallen and clung to the trees, when a good fire in the hearth and a bowl of hot stew is all a person craves in the world. You could provide those things. You would be happy with those eyes again, glinting in the fire light while he speaks of far off places and grand adventures.

You have to snap yourself out of these thoughts, focusing your attention back on wet stone sharpening your kitchen knives. Most who pass through your door do not return. Either bounties who are caught are brought to their justice or travelers choose not to venture out so far again. Occasionally you get bounty hunters who return to catch new bounties trying to disappear into the mountains or large game hunters returning each autumn- just passing through on their way further up into the mountains where the herds of black ram and lone bears roam freely.

You do not actually expect to see Boba Fett again, and when you do it is nothing like you’d imagined in your head. A storm is brewing, not yet cold enough to bring snow, but rain, freezing rain that will flood the streets and drown out your remaining autumn plants before the first frost comes. That’s when there is a pounding on the front door in the middle of the night. No one is staying at the inn tonight… perhaps a traveler has gotten in much later than they intended… you get up and throw on a house coat… making sure to have your old hunting blaster in hand, just in case.

When you unbolt the door the howling winds try to slam it back shut, a dark figure slumps against the frame. Not a comforting sight.

“Who are you? What do you want?” you call out to the figure, trying with all your might to keep the door from whipping open all the way. The figure does not answer or perhaps they can’t hear you against the wind whistling through the trees.

Whoever they are, they’re taking too long and you’re freezing. With one hand you reach out and tug on their cloak, dragging them inside and slamming the door shut behind them. They slump back against the door, and you can hear their ragged breathing.

“There aren’t many I turn away from my inn, even when there isn’t a storm raging” I say “But if you intend to stay you’ll need to remove your hood and show some credits”

“I have credits on my ship” comes the deep rolling voice… you know that voice. Without thinking you reach out and pull back their hood. Revealing the same hard lines in his face, and those kind dark eyes. Boba Fett.

“It’s you!” You gasp “You came back”

“Wanted to see you again… and… I need your help” he grits out, wincing in pain.

“What happened?” You guide him by the arm to sit at one of the dining room tables

“Blaster bolt to the side” he groans “It’s mostly fine, just need somewhere safe to lay low for a day or two”

“Will they be coming after you?” You ask bringing him a pitcher of water

“Can’t, they’re dead” he answers, accepting the water and gulping it down thirstily. Well at least you won’t have to worry about others trying to break down the door coming after him.

“Let me take a look at that” you say indicating his wound

“Suppose someone needs to” he grunts getting up from the table. He winces when he steps, and you fall in to catch him before he lists over to the side.

“Come on, there aren’t too many stairs” you manage to get out, as you help him towards the old wooden staircase.

It’s a struggle to get him up the stairs and into the first guest room. He’s a lot weaker than he’s letting on, a good chance he’s more injured as well. You get him to lay back on the bed, and he groans.

You sit beside him and reach for the hem of his tunic and give it a gentle pull “May I?” He nods. Removing the tunic is less difficult than you imagined it would be, it’s shredded from the blaster bolt.

The wound is ugly… and you shudder just looking at it. But it’s not as bad as you were afraid it might be.

“I’m going to wash it out and wrap it with a bacta salve. A few days rest and a hot meal and you’ll be alright” You go to get up and start getting the items you’ll need together to clear out the wound, but before you can turn away he catches your wrist in a gentle hold

“Thank you” he says softly. You smile, and gently pull away.

It takes some time to actually clean out the wound, it’s painful for him and he strains to not howl with the wind as you work to clean it out. Finally you get him bandaged up, and wipe your hands on a dry cloth.

“That should do it” you say wiping your brow with the back of your hand “Please rest, and call out if you need anything”

In the morning you bring up a tray laden with tea, toast, and warm oatmeal with dried fruit and honey. To your surprise he’s up and out of bed, looking at his injury in the small mirror on the wall.

“Good morning” you say, setting the tray down on the bed… which you’re even more surprised to see is fully made. “I don’t normally do room service, but for the injured I make an exception… though you could fool me right now”

He turns to look at you “Wouldn’t even consider myself injured anymore” he says, showing you the scar left by the blaster bolt. He sits on the bed and invites you to join him. You hesitate for a moment… there’s a lot you need to get done today, and you don’t make a habit of spending time alone with your patrons. But he’s been kind thus far, and to be honest you could use the company. So you sit next to him and pour him a cup of tea.

“So tell me, what happened that you landed up on my doorstep last night?”

“I’ve been tracking down something that once belonged to me. Something that is very dear to me” he explains

“Am I allowed to ask what it is?” You smile accepting the second cup of tea he’s poured you.

“My armor” he states

“Your armor?” You’re a bit confused “How did you lose it?”

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” He sets down his cup. You shake your head.

“No offense… but you’re just another bounty hunter to pass through my door” you admit “Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the only bounty hunter I’ve ever undressed and stitched up”

He studies your face, and sees that you are genuine… you’re confident and self assured but there is an innocence about you. He can’t help feeling drawn to you.

“About 5 years ago, I was thrown into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine and left to die” he explains carefully “I can’t explain why I am alive today. Fate let me live. But I lost my armor, and my former position”

You nod, and listen carefully… Sarlacc’s are native to Tatooine. His… position… “You worked for the Hutt’s” you say

His heart drops, he’s disappointed you. But he won’t lie. He nods “Does that scare you?”

“That depends” you say scooting back from him. Not to get away but so you can square your shoulders and look him in the eye “Do you still condone the use of slaves?”

“No” he says quickly “I never did. It was always my intention to get close to Jabba and his most trusted advisors and usurp him. End the use of slaves. Clean up his drug trafficking. And rule over the great dune sea”

He takes your hand and squeezes it. “That is still my intention” he says “but I need my armor to do it”

“I hear Bib Fortuna rules the great dune sea now” you say “a weakling and a coward… I have no doubt you will make a better leader”

“I’ll miss your little corner of the galaxy” he says “if I asked you to visit, would you consider it?”

“Maybe. I don’t own a ship. Don’t even have a speeder. Might take me a long time to get the credits to make the trip all the way out to Tatooine” you say “but then again, if you are king of Tatooine, I can hardly refuse an invitation”

He smirks at that, “I will come back for you, Princess. I want you to visit me on Tatooine”

You shake your head, if he does successfully overthrow Fortuna, he will have his hands full ruling and dismantling the institutions he already described. He will likely forget about you, and your inn at the edge of the galaxy.

“Find your armor Boba Fett, and claim your empire” you smile “Then com me someday so I can proudly say I served tea for Boba Fett before he was king”

“You have my word Princess” he chuckles

He leaves that afternoon, with a bag you prepared for him containing home baked bread and cured meat. He promises you again that he will come back for you, and while you appreciate the thought, you won’t hold it against him if you never see him again.

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey