#//((That loss of limb prompt struck me this time

[kiliofdurinsline]

I'm following the rules by sending you an ask but demon/vampire mb au????? idk why that's the "weirdest" thing I saw in your list

(ask me about my WIPs)

AHHH THAT ONE! :D

That fic was gonna be for a MB big bang like... a year ago? 2 years ago??? and i dropped the event bc i was so busy with school + zines and it was my lowest prio (plus was slipping out of sk8 writing at the time).

my initial idea inspo was one of those twitter "QRT with pics based on your zodiac/birthday/battery %" things, which gave me the prompt: Immortal AU | Mutual Pining | “Listen to me, just this once.” my essential idea: Kaoru is posessed by a demon (Carla) who grants him eternal health + youth + life in exchange for her getting to live in his body + occasionally use it as her own (gets her a "get out of Hell free" card). Kojiro is a vampire. The two meet in Venice, have an on-again-off-again situationship for a few centuries, until they meet up in modern day when Adam (a demon possessing the politician Ainosuke Shindo) appears and decides, hey, he really wants to be a dick to Carla, so why not get the pretty body she's got while he's at it?

featuring high drama from Kojiro, who refuses to let Kaoru be possessed by Adam, Kaoru who has a demon and a vampire as his forever family, Carla who is a snarky demon shit, and amateur demon hunter group comprised of Reki/Langa/Shadow/Miya who are investigating this super sus politician, Ainosuke Shindo.

Snippet below the cut (this is long but i legit forgot i wrote this and it *slaps*) cw for: threats of violence, blood drinking, loss of control of body due to demon possession

The moonlight shines on the water’s surface, and Kaoru breathes the salty air in deep. Venice reminds him of home, with the ocean air rolling in and the markets full of freshly caught fish. It’s been nearly sixty years since he left home, but Kaoru still finds himself most at peace by the ocean.

It’s far safer to travel in a group, Kaoru knows, but he slips away from the caravan of traders he’s travelled here with to explore the city for himself.

He looks up, losing himself in the stars as he walks along the waterfront. Gondolas drift by in his periphery, and Italian chatter spills out of open windows as he meanders along the walkway.

A hand on his arm startles Kaoru out of his reverie, and the shine of the moon on the water disappears as he’s pulled into a dark alley and a hand is slapped over his mouth.

“Just what the hell are you?” and Kaoru’s staring into angry wine-dark eyes with his own eyes open wide, and Carla says “Oh, fuck,” in his head, and then—

His mouth is moving but Kaoru’s not speaking. He can see his hands coming up to grip the stranger’s shirt tight, but he’s not moving them. He can feel his own face twist into a smirk and a leer but he’s not the one doing it, what is this—

Carla chuckles, deep and low, and the sound comes from Kaoru’s throat. “Oh, you are a pretty one, aren’t you? What are you? Werewolf? No, you’re far too cold for that. A lost soul, then, clinging to a life it has no claim of? Or,” and Carla leans in close and brushes the stranger’s hair away from their neck, revealing two light scars dotting the flesh just behind the jugular.

“Oh, how interesting,” Carla purrs with Kaoru’s tongue. “A vampire, here in Venice? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, your kind loves the waterfront—”

The vampire shoves Kaoru, no, Carla, into the stone wall behind them, and steps back. “Well, you know what I am. Now answer my damn question: what are you?”

Carla crosses Kaoru’s arms — and Kaoru does not like the feeling why can’t he control his limbs — and tilts Kaoru’s head. “My name is Carla. I’ve struck a deal with this mortal, so now I get to use his body.”

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “A demon, I should have known by your stink—”

Kaoru protests in his head, but the words never pass his lips. Carla cuts the stranger off with a laugh. “Oh, come now, love, the boy and I have our deal. He agreed to this, and he gets what he wants out of the bargain. There’s no need for such insults, especially not when I know every weakness your kind has.”

In a flurry of movement, Carla has the vampire pinned to the wall, Kaoru’s dagger held to his throat. “It’s made of steel, to be sure, but beheading works just as well as a stake through the heart. But I’m sure we’d both rather this not end in violence — surely, this city is big enough for the both of us, at least for the next few days? We’ve got enough problems from all the humans slinking about; if they catch onto either one of us, it’s bad news for us both. So, what do you say? Truce?”

The stranger grits his teeth and nods curtly. “Truce.”

Carla nods and pulls away, sheathing Kaoru’s dagger in one fluid motion. “I’ve told you my name already, and the boy’s name is Kaoru.”

“Kojiro,” the vampire says. He narrows his eyes as he looks Carla up and down.

“Let me out,” Kaoru says, but the words never pass his lips, and Carla’s voice resonates around him in his head. It rumbles in the dark space Kaoru is in, shaking every fiber of his soul as she croons, “Hush, now, all in due time.”

“Kojiro,” Carla says aloud, and she taps Kaoru’s lips with a finger in thought. “Well, in the name of our truce, what say I buy you a drink?”

Kojiro rolls his eyes. “And you claim to know so much about vampires.”

“Not alcohol, moron.” Carla turns back to the water and the moonlight shining on the river’s surface. “We demons have quite a network already established, one that can even benefit you vampires.”

They end up at a dingy pub. Kojiro claims a booth while Carla speaks with the bartender. She asks for two glasses of wine, “One red and one darker,” she says. The bartender pauses and looks at her, locks eyes with her for a moment, then nods and turns away. He comes back with two glasses, one with wine and one with a thicker, deep red liquid. Carla takes the glasses, and the thicker liquid clings to the side of the glass as it shifts. Kaoru realizes with horror that the liquid is blood.

Carla brings the glasses and slides the glass of blood over to Kojiro. He sniffs at it, eyes narrowed in suspicion. His eyes widen as he looks at it.

“Huh,” he says. “You actually got human blood.”

Carla lifts up her wine glass. “Like I said — connections. Alla tua.”

“Alla tua,” Kojiro says, and he clinks his glass against Carla’s before taking a deep sip. “So,” he says, “what brings a demon to Venice?”

[vidumavi]

Russingon and 36 please? ❤️

thank you!! 36. (A Kiss) ... to give up control

(Send me prompts)

It was impossible to determine the span of a day now, but Findekáno thought surely at least a week had passed since the light of the stars had been veiled by roiling clouds and all beyond their torches’ glow was shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

At first, lightning had intermittently rendered the white fleet out on the water visible for fractions of a breath, fewer ships remaining above the towering waves every time. Once, a bolt of lightning had struck one of the masts and the blaze of the burning ship had brightened the sea for miles.

Now, thunder and lightning had ceased and no sound save for the churning of the furious waters and the howling of the wind reached them as they cut their way through the fabric of the unmeasured night. They knew not whether all on the ships had been swallowed by the vast and vengeful depths. It grew darker and colder the farther north they went: Rain and the advancing, inky mass of the sea had doused many of their torches and their rekindling proved difficult.

Findekáno pressed northward along the shoreline, his boots soaked and the cut on his forearm bleeding. Still he commanded the foremost host, driving on his people with words of vengeance and of promise. His limbs were aching and exhausted, but he could not be seen faltering. He could not let himself fall behind either; he had no desire to see his father, who had looked upon him as a stranger, and even less desire to see Angaráto and Aikanáro.

Then, a shout went up somewhere behind him. Findekáno’s gaze moved to the sea on instinct, and for once he was rewarded, though he scarcely wanted to trust his eyes: ships, finally, drawing toward the bay ahead of them. He spurred on his host, called anyone proficient in healing to the front and sent a messenger to his father.

Some hours later, they finally met their kinsfolk as they were landing, and a long while was spent on coordinating supplies and care for the injured. There were few bodies; those who had died had done so largely in the water were nobody could hope to retrieve them, but there were some.

He could not see his uncle anywhere, but with a lurch of sickening relief he noticed Maitimo’s silhouette near a railing, head turned, shouting to someone behind him.

Tyelkormo was the first of his brothers to step onto the shore. He slapped Findekáno’s shoulder in a show of camaraderie that seemed to belong to a long-ago youth, more disorienting for the fact of his own family’s revulsion that awaited him. Findekáno did not dwell on the thought and busied himself with giving orders and taking inventory of their resources. He would not run to Maitimo, he told himself.

The decision was taken from his hands when the cousin in question made his own way to shore, met his eyes from afar and nodded toward the tree line. It irritated Findekáno to be commanded, but this was not the time to spurn anyone on a whim, and so he waited until no one paid him any mind and slipped away from the crowd.

Maitimo was carrying a small, shining lamp that shed a measure of light onto the narrow trail that he had found. They stumbled into each other’s orbit, and for a long moment they looked at each other, at a loss for what to say. The cut on Maitimo’s jaw was old, but the bruises on his face and hands were new. His palms were reddened were ropes had dug into them and his fingernails were ragged. The lamp’s pale light made him look sickly.

“Your father?” Findekáno asked, though he did not particularly want to.

“Is well,” Maitimo said shortly and Findekáno did not know whether the feeling in his gut was relief or disappointment.

Maitimo began to move toward him but seemed to stop himself in time and asked instead, “Are you injured?”

“Not very much,” Findekáno replied. Exhaustion threatened to overcome his body now that he had finally let himself still. The prospect of returning to his company and tell them to move forward was suddenly daunting, and the thought of speaking to his father filled him with dread.

“I am -“ Maitimo began, but Findekáno cut him off.

“Do not,” he snapped and Maitimo swallowed.

Findekáno wanted to hear nothing from him and he did not want to think of anything to say, and so he reached for his bruised cheeks and fit their lips together. For one horrible moment, Maitimo stilled, but then he responded in kind, his hands grasping Findekáno’s shirt where dried stains of blood remained.

It had been a long time since he had kissed him last, and there had not been such a bite to it then, but now he welcomed the sting. This is your fault, he wanted to tell him, fix it for me. It was an inexcusably childish thought, and barely even true at that. He settled for grabbing Maitimo’s hand and putting it on his own wrist, and finally, Maitimo understood what he wanted and tightened his hold.

[sevenbulletsavior]

New York allowed Karen to hide: hide from Fagan Corners, from the ache of loss, from the pain of guilt. She moved among the crowd with ease, blended in like every other person, and she lived life as if there were no skeletons in her closet. Waitressing was an easy enough job to pick up, an abundance of diners meaning there were opportunities abound for her to find stable employment. She even picked up cocktail waitressing positions at times, the higher class clientele of those establishments offering better pay (which in turn also offered Karen the ability to fund her habits more consistently).

The cocktail lounge was how she'd met Julian. He'd been working himself, the woman he was with laughing and charmed by his smile. When he'd come back the following night without his companion by his side, Karen had approached him boldly, flirting effortlessly with the man before they found themselves in the bathroom, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes.

She'd been let go from that position the following weekend, but Karen didn't care.

It was just a job, after all. They were a dime a dozen in the city.

Whenever Karen found herself tangled up with Julian, it was always a rush and thrill. He was always the gentleman with her, never rough, never cruel. He seemed to worship her, and Karen found it surprising to see someone want her so intimately, to not merely discard her immediately after. He never asked about the bruises she had, never looked at her with pity, he just accepted her and perhaps that was why she continually found herself in bed with the man. Even in a hotel that was in the less-than-idealistic part of the city, Karen held no regrets.

Stretched across the bed with eyes locked on the ceiling, she listened to his steady breathing, skin still warm from his touch. The question came out without prompting, and Karen wondered if it was overstepping a boundary with him. His first response made her smile, head turning to lock eyes with him and she gave him a be serious look. She allowed that silence to stretch between them, allowed him to consider his response to her question, and his answer struck a painful chord in her own heart.

She said nothing to try to soothe his hurt, though; what was there to say? Karen Page was just as broken (and maybe more, she truly didn't know his full story) and the broken were not the best with repairing one another. They could soothe, though, and as he pressed a kiss, as he leaned in, she shifted to turn her body more towards him. "Not yet. My shift at the diner isn't for another six hours or so."

Plenty of time to stay together. "You've got me for a little while longer, at least."

Pillow talk was a perk of his job. He enjoyed listening to the trials and tribulations of the women who contacted him for his services. It was a little reminder that everyone had something going on in their life - it worked as a pleasant reminder that people who had their lives more well-put-together than he did suffered the same kind of ache. Not everyone was immune to misery in some form, fate leveled the playing field across the board.

Whether he was himself or someone they asked him to be didn't matter. He listened all the same, offered the best advice he could give if they wanted his two cents or simply allowed himself to be a sounding board. It was how they opened themselves up ... left his service feeling a little lighter, a little better than they did coming in.

Karen was not a client. She'd never paid for his time or talents and yet Julian offered them freely. Perhaps he saw an echo of himself in her: troubled and seeking to salve wounds with temporary fixes instead of meeting them head on. He knew trauma when he saw it; always in the eyes, portals to the soul, and in the moments where Julian let his own guard down he was sure that the hurt etched itself deep into the lines beside his own deep browns. He never commented on it, simply allowed Karen to do with him whatever made her feel temporarily better in those moments. It made him feel good, too.

The truth was he really liked her. It was scary.

Cheek pressed into his arm where he lay across the width of the bed on his stomach beside her. The blankets were askew, barely covering their skin or anything about them at all (not that it mattered, considering what they'd just spent their time doing to and with one-another). In the afterglow of sex he allowed soft laughter and banter to fill the sunlit hotel room and if he closed his eyes he could still pretend that it was Los Angeles outside instead of the cold, cruel backlight of New York City. But none of that matter. What mattered was the company.

"What do you regret most?"

The question gave him pause. Mindlessly with his free hand he traced pointless patterns against the round of her shoulder. He enjoyed the sunny gold of her hair, the contrast against freckles where they sprayed themselves on her skin like dappled paint. He liked the vibrant blue of her eyes and the pout of her lips when she didn't tug them up into a smile (he liked that, too). With his knuckles he brushed at those soft gold strands, revealed more shoulder to move against, and burrowed his cheek against his arm.

"I don't regret meeting you."

Even if they enabled some of the worse habits between the two of them. (He wouldn't mention the lines of coke he'd done before they got together last night. Just like she wouldn't bring up any of her bad habits). There was something so painfully honest about her that he found refreshing. Nothing in his life was ever honest, not like her.

But that was evading the question and he doubted she'd let it go so easily. Tongue parted lips, wet them as he thought the question through more sincerely. What did he regret most? What didn't he? When he spoke again his voice was too-soft, painful in how it was both rough and hushed. Painful in how, for just a moment, it wasn't Julian Kaye speaking but young Johnny Henderson and all of his pain and sorrow.

"I regret my momma feelin' like she needed to let me go to survive."

He missed his mother. He wondered so often how she was, even if she had shouted and cursed at him the last time they'd seen one-another. He could never hate her. She'd given so much for him, it seemed impossible. And when he blinked he let little Johnny go, let Julian slide back into place with all of his charm and charisma, all of his bright smiles and flirtatious demeanor. Julian picked his face up from his arm and leaned closer to Karen, pressed a kiss to the round of her shoulder where he'd been giving soft affections moments before.

"But I get to be here with you. Listening to you breathing when you sleep, laughing just for me when we tease each other. Looking at me with those big blue eyes of yours."

And seeing me. But he didn't say that part out loud.

He adorned the comments with a wide smile, then nuzzled the length of his nose against her.

"Tell me you don't have to leave yet?"

@sevenbulletsavior sent a meme.

[hillnerd]

For the headcanon ask game - Romione + rain?

For the headcanon ask meme <-feel free to send a couple and a prompt- i'll either write a short blurb of headcanon or write a drabble my headcanon is that Hermione loves rainy days and Ron doesn't- she wins him over to them eventually:

RAIN

Hermione had always loved the rain. None of the other children in her class did. They'd moan and wail when they had to stay inside during playtime. As they all mourned the loss of their beloved tag, Hermione would squirm in delight.

While everyone else would suffer through checkers and building blocks, adventures and deserted islands waterfalled into the room with every drop of rain. Why deal with getting actual dirt under your nails, when you can imagine walking on beaches. Why deal with lines for the swingset and being elbowed off the climbing frame she could barely manage to stay on for more than a few seconds, when there were chapters of friends to spend her hour with.

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

Rainy days were absolutely, without a doubt, miserable! That's what they were. On a sunny day Ron’s brothers would let him come along and maybe even hang out a bit. He might just be target practice for an apple, but at least he was on a broom, and at least he was having something akin to a nice time with them.

Instead he was locked in, roped into chores, and no one would play him chess anymore. He'd just finished helping his mum mucking out some of the junk from under the sink when he felt his leg get crushed and he let out a string of curses.

“Get your legs out the way!” Fred hissed, giving him a light kick for good measure.

Utterly miserable.

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

Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as a gust of rain-loaded wind made her umbrella quite pointless. The Quidditch Pitch was so misty she had no idea how the players were able to avoid colliding.

“Damn this weather is shit!”

A warm cloak was draped around her shoulder and she hurriedly leaned into Ron’s side.

“You shouldn’t curse.” She did her best to school her smile into a formidable frown of disapproval.

Ron laughed and shook his head. Droplets from his hair flicked onto the last dry bit of her face.

“Y’know, we’ve been friends for two years. You should probably get over my cursing. I’m not going to stop.”

“It’s impolite!”

“Worse things to be than impolite, aren’t there? I could be an arse like Malfoy.”

“And that’s the scale you’re grading yourself on? ‘Not as bad as Malfoy?’”

“Don’t be jealous of my lofty goals,” he said, putting his nose high in the air before squinting. “I hope Harry catches the Snitch soon. My bum’s going dead from the cold. Know anything that could warm it up?”

Hermione tucked her head behind her hair as heat radiated through her.

“There’s a hot-air-charm.”

“Oh yeah! Blow some hot air on me!”

“I don’t know it yet… I’ve only seen it.”

“Same.”

“And warming charms aren’t until fourth year.”

“Bit shit, that. It’s getting colder by the second out here. We should all know a good warming charm. Plus we live in a castle in Scotland! It’s bloody cold!”

“Ron!” she said, giving him a small elbow in the side.

“Sorry! I’ll try not to curse so much, I swea—”

“No! What’s that over there?”

A swathe of darkness rushed the field, undulating like a dark ink spill across the Quidditch field.

“Oh no…” Ron moaned. “Dementors!”

He gave another string of curses as they rushed towards the field.

Despite the cold, misery and terror encroaching, a bit of warmth kept the Dementors from fully affecting her as they had on the Hogwarts Express. It was Ron’s large hand holding hers all the way to the field.

She loved rainy days.

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

The wet squelch of his shoes echoing off stone hallways was the only sound left in the castle. Ron was alone, which was all for the better. He’d always loved Quidditch, but now it felt like a scimitar ready to come down and end him. At this point he’d welcome a good beheading— at least then he wouldn’t feel so bleeding miserable.

His sodden robes left tiny droplets, and he’d wrung out one giant puddle, in the halls. If Filch caught him, he’d probably give him a good dressing down, but Ron didn’t care. He deserved one.

How could Quidditch abilities have passed him by so thoroughly? He thought he’d been a good Keeper at home. He always got stuck in the position, but over time he grew to like it quite a lot. Not anymore.

His robes thwarted against the portrait whole as he drug himself through to an empty Common Room. Not wanting to face his dormmates he went for a seat by the fire, but found Hermione. She sat in one of the larger plush chairs, her little legs curled up under her in a way that would make his long limbs go numb in under a minute. All around her were parchment and books. She was working on a Charms assignment he knew was not due for another three weeks. She looked up from the work and gave a warm smile. Despite himself, he smiled back.

“It’s miserable enough with all the rain. Why compound it with Charms?” he asked.

“I wanted to wait for you. I don’t like the idea of you practicing in a storm like this. Especially by yourself! It’s not worth it.”

“Well I can’t quit,” he said, feeling mulish again and collapsing into the opposite chair with a great heave.

“I wasn’t suggesting you quit. Just maybe wait for nights where there isn’t a maelstrom?”

“Ah, but then there’d be loads of other people wanting to practice, and then they’d all see how I suck eggs.”

“I’ve seen you fly and you don’t ‘suck eggs,’” she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish of her quill.

“There’s a whole song about it.”

“That song…” she growled, casting a charm on her paper to dry the ink.. “Malfoy’s the one who sucks eggs! He’s a little monster and I’m a bit in shock the professors have done absolutely nothing to stop him.”

“Why would they?” he said with a shrug.

“Because it’s a monstrous display of bullying? Because it’s targeting a student and making the whole school absolutely toxic? It’s wrong? It’s harmful? Take your pick!”

Ron straightened in his seat as she pointed her wand at him. Suddenly he was hit with the most satisfying warming charm, followed by a water wicking spell.

“You’re good at Keeping! I’ve seen you do it every summer up against the twins, Ginny, and even Charlie. But you’re no good to anyone if you get struck by lightning, fall from your broom, or catch pneumonia from being out in this weather! And what are you smiling at?” she asked, brows furrowed enough to make that cute little line appear between them.

“You.”

“You should take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Fine, I won’t fly in this weather alone.”

“Well who will accompany you?”

He hesitated a moment then replied, “You, if you’ll come.”

“I can. As long as I’m ahead on my revising.”

“Then you can always come, as you’re always ahead,” he said putting his feet up on her arm rest.

“I also meant it about the Keeping. I think you’re good.”

“Yeah, well… Quidditch isn’t your strong suit.” She shoved his feet off the chair and he gave a chuckle. “But, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Despite wanting to be so ahead in her studies, Ron noticed how she ignored her parchment the rest of the evening for him. For a rainy evening, it was quite nice.

[jenstar1992-2]

Here with You

Pairing: Echo x reader/ Hunter x reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares/ trauma, reliving a traumatic experience, Order 66 (because it’s a warning in itself)

Word count: 7,103

A/N: Well, I knew it, it hasn’t been a whole day since I saw the Bad Batch premiere, and I’ve already gotten my first writing idea (yes, this took me like two days to write because I kept getting interrupted). I just couldn’t get the image of my poor baby Echo in that med bay and seeing the trauma those damned Separatists caused him out of my head. All I want to do is hold him and never let go, he deserves the world. This was originally just going to be an Echo x reader, but it turned into a Hunter x reader as well, because I just couldn’t help myself, I love them both, and wanted both of them to get some lovins. Also, I get the sense that Omega is a smart kid, and that she’s pretty well spoken, so I tried to write her as such, while still keeping that childlike innocence, so hopefully it comes across that way.

So much had transpired within the last few days and you were still trying to wrap your head around all of it. The jedi had been almost entirely wiped out in a single day, and while you were certain their had to be other survivors besides yourself, you were unclear as to what that number was. Luckily for you, you had been amongst friends when Order 66 was given, and your men turned on you. If it weren’t for the Bad Batch, you were certain you wouldn’t be alive right now.

As you sat in the cockpit of the Marauder, the memories began to flood your brain, which caused involuntary tears to fill your eyes.

You and your men had been sent to Kaller to aid Master Billaba and her troops. However, upon your arrival, you were greeted with a pleasant surprise. It turned out, Clone Force 99 had been on planet already and had taken out a large amount of the droids before you even landed.

You had worked with this group before and had even enjoyed the experience. While your men thought their tactics and unprofessional antics were unnecessary and even a bit annoying, you found the group to be, for lack of a better term, fun. You had been around stuffy, uptight individuals for so long, it was nice to have a change of pace, and while your men were great, they tended to be sticklers for the rules and rarely wanted to take risks.

You also got along with this team rather well, enough to consider them good friends, but you were especially close with their newest recruit. You and Echo had known each other well before he joined the Bad Batch, even before his accident at the citadel, and had been friends for just as long, although as time went by and you found yourself encountering him more and more in your life, you slowly realized you might feel more for the trooper than you should, more than you’d ever admit aloud. So, when you’d heard of his survival and rescue, you had been elated, and that happiness resurfaced at the thought of seeing him again.

You exited the gunship and saw the rag-tag group of clones speaking with Master Billaba on the now quiet battlefield. They turned as you and your men made your approach. As you got closer to the group, you scanned the faces of its members before you found him, smiling brightly as your eyes connected, he did the same.

You came to stand before their leader, raising your gaze to meet the man’s unwavering stare.

“Sergeant”, you greeted him, extending a hand formally, which he took without hesitation, shaking it firmly.

“General, good to see you again”, he said with a smile.

“You too”, you responded.

You’d always liked Hunter, from the beginning he’d always struck you as a respectable man, and you admired the fact that he could allow his men to be their reckless selves while also keeping them in line, but only when necessary, it seemed. There was something else too, something you hadn’t noticed right away, but after a few more encounters with the man, you put it together, coming to an all to familiar realization, one that brought butterflies to your stomach, while also bringing about a slight anxiety. How could you let this happen, it was bad enough falling for one man you couldn’t have, but two, you were sure the universe was out to hurt you.

“General (L/N), I’m glad to see your trip was a safe one, and better late than never I suppose”, Depa said, drawing you from Hunter’s gaze to hers.

“Sorry Master Billaba, we were assisting Masters Luminara and Yoda on Kashyyyk when we got word of your need for reinforcements, we got here as soon as we could”, you said, then looking around at the desolated droids scattered across the landscape. “Although, from what I can tell, you seem to now have a handle on things.”

“Yeah, thanks to these guys”, Caleb, Depa’s padawan, exclaimed, gesturing to the group of men before you. “You should’ve seen it, they took all those droids out in a matter of minutes, it was incredible.”

You chuckled. “Yes, I’m well aware of the marvel that is Clone Force 99, and they do put on quite the show”, you said, shooting a quick glance Echo’s way. “Incredible indeed.”

Your words caused the trooper to smile shyly at you.

“Yes, well, we’re still glad you’re here, we just launched a counterattack, and the more assistance, the better”, Depa said.

You nodded. “You need us, we’ll stay”, you said before turning to your troops. “Men, a counterattack has been launched, I want you to rendezvous with Master Billaba’s troops and aid in the attack, Commander Roran, you’re with me. Let’s move!”

With that your troops dispersed, leaving you and your commander where you stood. You turned back to face everyone.

“So, how can we help”, you asked.

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll be needing your assistance after all, in fact, this war might soon be over”, Tech spoke up, causing you to give him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, according to the encrypted comm chatter, Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau”, he responded.

“If he captures, or kills Grievous, the separatist command structure will collapse”, Echo chimed in.

“And most likely the droid armies along with them”, Tech finished.

“It can’t be that easy, can it”, you asked, looking to the jedi master.

“While it is an interesting theory, I would not bet our hopes on it, we should focus on the task at hand”, she replied.

“I agree, we should focus our energy on this attack, strike while we have the advantage”, you said.

Hunter nodded. “Any orders, or shall we do what we do”, he asked, directing his words at Depa.

“What do you think General, should we let them ‘do what they do’”, she asked you.

You chuckled and folded your arms over your chest. “Probably our best bet, what do you think Caleb”, you asked the padawan.

“I say we let them, but only if I can go with them”, he responded.

You looked to his master, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Very well”, she said, giving the boy permission.

“Ronan and I will tag along too”, you stated, then looking to Hunter. “Just in case you guys need a hand.”

“Hope that wasn’t a jab at me”, Echo said, coming to stand beside you while simultaneously lifting his cybernetic arm.

You immediately regretted your choice in words and stammered your defense.

“N- no, I didn’t mean, I would never.”

He let out an amused laugh. “I’m just messing with you General, sorry”, he said.

You then scowled at him before poking a finger at his chest plate.

“Not funny”, you said, but couldn’t keep the smile from forming on your face.

“I said I was sorry”, you heard him say as you began walking in the direction your troops had gone. He soon caught up and walked alongside you.

You chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to know you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Nah, but I did lose a couple other things”, he said, face turning slightly serious.

You stopped walking and just stood for a moment, a sad expression now adorning your features. Noticing your actions, Echo ceased his movements as well and looked back to you.

“What is it”, he asked.

You went to stand in front of him before you spoke your next words. “Echo, I am sorry for your loss, truly I am, but honestly, I’d rather you be here and missing a few limbs, then for you to not be here at all. I’m just glad your alive, and that I get to see you again.”

He stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression before smiling and nodding.

“I guess you’re right, and I’m glad our paths crossed again, I…”, he began, clearly wanting to say more, but stopping himself. You caught on though and decided to voice it for him.

“I missed you too”, you said, giving him a warm smile, prompting one of his own.

You both began walking once more to catch up with your comrades.

“You know, I was actually surprised you recognized me, what with the countless differences and all” he said with a chuckle.

You shook your head. “You can change all you want, I’ll still know it’s you”, you said.

“Yeah?”

“Yep, you might’ve changed a lot on the outside, but inside, you’re still the same Echo I’ve always known and loved”, you said, saying the words before they fully registered with your brain, but once they did you nearly froze in your stacks, your face instantly reddening with embarrassment. You quickly tried to back track before he could respond. “I mean, uh, well, y- you know what I mean.” Smooth.

He chuckled, amused at your obvious embarrassment of your less-than-ideal choice of words yet again.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean”, he said, giving you a reassuring smile before seemingly letting the subject drop, much to your relief.

You nodded as you carried on toward the others.

Suddenly, a wave of emotions flooded your mind, and it was as if hundreds of voices were crying out within the confines of your skull. You stopped, placing a hand to the side of your head in an attempt to stop the dizziness that accompanied the voices.

Echo noticed and came to your side, placing a steadying hand to your back.

“Are you okay”, he asked, clearly concerned.

“S- somethings wrong, I feel… death, so much death, I don’t know…”, you began through heavy breathes, but you were soon cut off by the sound of blaster fire.

You both looked to see Master Billaba’s men attempting to gun her down as she deflected their blasts with her lightsaber. Before you could fully process the sight in front of you, you heard Caleb yell for his master, seeing him rush past you, saber ignited and ready to jump to her aid.

“Caleb, no…”, you shouted, but before you could run after him a burning pain in your left arm stopped you.

You grabbed your now wounded arm and turned to see Roran facing you, blaster raised and aimed directly at you.

“Commander”, you said in confusion, but before you could get another word out, he was firing again. You were able to deflect the blasts with your saber, yelling at him as you did so. “Roran, why are you doing this?”

Suddenly, the blasts stopped as Echo came to your aid, wrestling the blaster out of the commander’s hands before knocking him out cold. He then rushed to your side once more, seeing you kneeling and clutching your head.

“General, (Y/N), (Y/N), can you hear me? Say something”, he urged, but try as you might, you couldn’t form the words to respond.

Your head was swimming in a sea of pain, death, and betrayal, most of which you were certain weren’t coming from you, more like from the force itself. You’d felt disturbances in the force before, but none like this, it was all encompassing and soon you found yourself slipping from consciousness from the intensity of it all.

***

When you finally came to, you found yourself laying in a bunk aboard the Havoc Marauder. When you tried to sit up a hand caught your shoulder and gently coaxed you back down.

“Easy (Y/N), you don’t want to push yourself, you sustained a pretty bad injury, you should rest”, a familiar voice said softly.

“Echo, what, what happened… they turned on us, why would they do that”, you asked, looking at him with confusion and sadness mixing in your expression.

“I don’t know, we’re still trying to figure that out ourselves, but you’re safe now, I won’t let them hurt you again, you have my word. Now rest”, he said, trying to comfort you, but knowing it wouldn’t help much given what you’d just been through.

“No”, you heard someone say, the volume of it startling you slightly, and you looked to see that it was Hunter, who had just entered.

“What do you mean ‘no’”, Echo asked him, confused.

“I mean, she can’t stay here, it’s not safe”, he explained, and when you both gave him a befuddled look, he continued, “It’s Crosshair, there’s… something wrong with him. I think whatever happened to those soldiers is happening to him too, but I can’t be sure.”

“What makes you think that”, you questioned, finally sitting up and turning to place your feet on the floor.

He looked behind him, making sure you three were the only ones in ear shot before bending down to your level.

“He tried to kill that padawan”, he said, so low it was almost a whisper.

“Caleb, is he alright”, you asked, fear and concern thick in your voice.

“He’s alive, but other than that, I’m not sure. He ran off after…”, he began, but the words died on his lips.

You nodded in understanding. “So, what should I do, where should I go?”

“Stay here, on Kaller, find somewhere to hide. We’ll go back to Kamino and sort this out, once it’s safe, we’ll come back for you”, he said.

You nodded, agreeing to do as he said, knowing you really had no other option at this point.

Shortly after this conversation you readied yourself to leave, Tech giving you some medical supplies in case you would need to re-bandage your arm before they returned.

Echo ended up accompanying you in your search for shelter, telling the others he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew you’d found somewhere safe to stay. You had resisted the gesture, wanting him to get as far away from danger as possible, but he insisted.

You found a cave a few miles from the ship’s current location and decided it was as good a place as any to crash for, what you were hoping would only be, a few days.

“You sure you’re going to be okay here”, Echo asked, looking into the cold, dark cave.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve stayed in worse places. Besides, it’s the safest place we’ll find in the wilderness, and it’s dark, perfect for hiding”, you said in a poor attempt to lighten the mood, you didn’t know why, force of habit you guessed. Although, all this earned you was a sad smile from the trooper.

“We’ll be back soon, just stay out of sight until then, okay?”

You gave a small smile, bringing your hand up to your forehead for a two fingered salute. “Yes sir”, you said. This actually earned you a small laugh, which at this moment was music to your ears. You lowered your hand and looked into his eyes, taking on a more serious expression. “Just… be safe.”

“I should be telling you that”, he said.

“Yeah, well, I beat you to it”, you said, half grinning.

“I will if you will.”

You nodded. “Then I will.”

Suddenly your body was moving without you telling it to, and you found yourself wrapping him in a tight hug, closing your eyes to keep from crying, and soon the gesture was returned, leaving the both of you in a long embrace.

“Don’t forget me, okay”, you said, the threat of tears evident in your voice.

He squeezed you a little tighter. “Never.”

***

Turns out, you didn’t have to hide out in that cave long at all, as they had returned to retrieve you within two days’ time, with a new crew member, but without Crosshair. You two hadn’t been the best of friends by any means, and the man’s standoffishness really irked you sometimes, but you’d always known that deep down, he wasn’t such a bad guy. So, when the boys had told you what had happened between their return to Kamino and their escape from the planet, it put a surprising strain on your heart. You wanted to be angry with Crosshair for his actions, for attempting to kill Caleb and other innocents, but you just couldn’t, especially after you were informed of the inhibitor chips planted within every clone trooper. You couldn’t be mad at him, you couldn’t hate him, because it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t any of their faults, they were being used just like the jedi had been, if not more so, and this knowledge extinguished any hatred that had grown in you since the day that order was given.

Thinking back on all of this had you shedding silent tears as you watched the streaks of light pass before your eyes, attempting to let yourself to be swept away in the beauty that was hyperspace. This always seemed to calm your mind, but it didn’t seem to be working this time, so you simply stared and let the tears run down your cheeks.

“Hey, you okay”, Hunter asked from the seat beside you, having temporarily taken over piloting the ship in order to allow the others to rest.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by his words and quickly wiped the tears from your face before answering.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, still just trying to figure all of this out”, you replied somberly.

He nodded. “I understand, we still don’t have it all figured out either and with every answer comes new questions”, he said.

You hummed in agreement. “I guess my biggest question is, why now, why did Palpatine wait so long to put this grand plan in action? I mean, he could’ve done it years ago, but no, he waited… waited for us to get close to those who would eventually become our executioners, and worse, he took away their free will to do it. Those troopers, they weren’t the men they used to be, it’s like they were brainwashed.”

“Tech said they were programmed and when the chips were activated, it basically took over their minds, so I guess, in a way, they are brainwashed”, Hunter said, looking back out at the blue glow of hyperspace.

“Those poor men”, you said after a moment of silence.

Hunter turned his head to look at you, an astonished expression over his features, he then let out an amused huff.

“You are truly a wonder, you know that?”

“What”, you asked him, confused by the comment.

“Even after everything you’ve been through, and after what they did to you and your kin, you still feel pity for them”, he explained. “You’ve always been able to see people for who they really are, and forgive them for their faults, it’s commendable, and it’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

“You admire me”, you asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning in amusement.

He gave you a single nod. “Always have”, he said, giving you a soft smile.

The way he was looking at you made your cheeks begin to heat as a light blush covered them, and you turned away in an attempt to hide it, but he noticed, and his smile widened a bit as he looked back out the view port.

“I think you’re right by the way, about Palpatine waiting so long to execute his plan. I think he wanted you all to build those relationships, that trust, with your men, so that, when the time came, he could not only take you all out, but destroy your conviction as well”, he said, his voice lower than before.

“That’s a bit ominous, given our current situation”, you said, only half joking.

He turned to you suddenly, eyebrows raised in mild shock.

“(Y/N), you don’t think we’d… we’d never hurt you, I’d never hurt you, we’re on your side, I promise”, he said, hurt in his eyes. Did you really not trust him?

Seeing his reaction made your heart squeeze, you hadn’t meant to hurt him, you were just confused and scared. You felt as if your whole world had come crumbling down around you, and you were still trying to resurface from the rubble. But you knew you were wrong for thinking, even for a second, that you couldn’t trust Hunter and his men.

“I know, I’m sorry. I do trust you, all of you”, you said, trying to sound reassuring, but it only came out as sadness.

It looked as if the sergeant was contemplating something, his hands reflexively grabbing at nothing as they opened and closed on his lap. You knew he wanted to do something, wanted to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to invade your space, worried that would be crossing a line. So, you took the initiative.

You reached over and took one of his hands from his lap, holding it softly before giving it a reassuring squeeze and sending a smile his way. This prompted him to smile back, and you both just sat like that for a minute.

Suddenly, you heard a commotion from the bunks, and your name being called out by a desperate voice.

Recognizing the voice, you jumped up from your seat. “Echo”, you said, concern in your tone, before looking back to Hunter.

He simply nodded. “Go”, he said softly.

You gave a confirming nod and let go of the hand you’d still been holding, before quickly making your way to the bunks.

When you entered the room, it took you a second to assess the situation before you. Echo was laying in his bunk, breathing heavy, head shaking from side to side, and body trembling, as if he were in a state of terror. All this while Omega stood by the bunk, watching with concern. She looked back to you when you entered, then ran to you.

“I tried to wake him, but it’s not working, he keeps calling for you, you’ve got to do something”, she said in a rush, voice and eyes full or worry for her new friend.

You bent down to her level and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, I know what to do, you go wait with Hunter, okay? Everything will be fine”, you told her, attempting to quell her worry.

You then stood and made your way to Echo, sitting on the edge of the bunk and looking over him with your own worried expression. You really didn’t know what to do, you’d never been faced with something like this before. He was clearly having a terrible nightmare, and you wanted to help, so you just acted on instinct.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and shook lightly, softly calling his name, trying to wake him as gradually as you could, as you figured startling him awake would be counterproductive. However, this didn’t seem to work, and hearing your voice only caused him to say your name more. Seeing him like this broke your heart, and for a moment you felt totally helpless, but then you had an idea. You moved your hand from his shoulder, bringing it to cup the side of his face, your thumb instinctually beginning to rub soothing circles on his cheek, and you bent down to speak quietly in his ear.

“Echo, it’s (Y/N). You don’t have to be scared, I’m here, I won’t let them hurt you anymore”, you said, gently grabbing his flesh hand with your free one and holding it to your chest. “I’m here for you, I’ll always be right here with you, it’s okay. Wake up Love. Come back to me.”

As you spoke you could see him slowly calm, and with your final request, his eyes fluttered open, finding yours instantly.

“There you are”, you said softly, a smile spreading over your face. You were just relieved that the nightmare was over, and he seemed to be calming more with each passing second.

As he took in your presence before him, he let out a relieved sigh, but then looked to you with a strained expression.

“(Y/N), I… I was back, back with them, back to that day, I… I didn’t know how or why, and I just…”, he said in a desperate rush.

You shushed him, and let your hand continue to stay where it was in an attempt to sooth the frightened man lying next to you.

“I know, it’s okay, you’re okay now, you’re here with me, you’re safe, I promise”, you reassured him.

This seemed to work, and he let out another sigh as he closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing once again, coming back to a steady pattern in no time. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the position you both were in; you were sitting very close beside him, one hand resting on his cheek, while the other held his hand close to your heart, with his clutching yours in return, like you were his lifeline, which he had to admit, wasn’t far from the truth. You were the one he could trust without question, the one he could confide in, always had been.

You noticed this too and immediately went to pull away, slowly dropping his hand as you did, cheeks now burning. You didn’t get very far though, before he grabbed your wrist with his newly freed hand. “No”, he said, and pulled the hand back towards his head, coaxing you to return it to its previous spot. “Don’t stop… please.”

You stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression, before finally giving him a tentative nod and continuing your earlier action of rubbing your thumb in circles on his cheek. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow, relaxing easily under your touch, this causing you to smile, glad you could be of comfort to him. You stayed like this for a while before your curiosity got the best of you and you voiced the question that had been on your mind since you first heard him call your name.

“Echo”, you said in a questioning tone. He hummed in response, not opening his eyes. “Why, why me?”

He looked at you then, confused. “What do you mean?”

“When you were having your nightmare, you, you called out for me, I was just wondering, why me”, you explained.

“I did”, he asked.

“Yeah, quite a few times actually. Was I in your dream or something?”

He looked away, a bit embarrassed.

“Not exactly”, he said.

You used the hand that was still on him to lightly pull his head to face you, speaking once his eyes were fixed on yours once again.

“Echo, you know you can tell me anything. What is it”, you asked.

“You weren’t in the dream, technically, and it wasn’t really a dream, more like I was reliving a memory, the memory of the citadel, and…”, he explained, his words dying off as he found it hard to voice them.

You placed a reassuring hand on his chest and gave him a nod in understanding.

“So, you were reliving that day, I’m sorry, I know that can’t be easy. But I still don’t see what that has to do with me, I wasn’t there, if I had been, I would’ve taken that blow for you”, you said, suddenly feeling tears behind your eyes, but you fought them back internally.

His eyes widened and he quickly grabbed your hand from its spot on his chest, squeezing it firmly.

“No, don’t say that”, he said urgently, suddenly sitting up, causing your hand to slip from his face, instead falling to rest at the intersection of his shoulder and neck.

“But…”, you tried to say, but he cut you off.

“No (Y/N), I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, least of all on you”, he said, staring directly into your eyes. You could only nod sadly as you tried to keep your emotions in check, which was getting harder as this interaction continued. He then softened his gaze and let out a long breath. “You were there, in a way.”

You gave him a confused look, about to ask what he meant, until he continued.

“After the explosion, I just laid there for a long time, feeling everything and nothing all at the same time, I was basically just waiting to die”, he told you. Your heart squeezed at his words, as the tears threatened to rise. “But then, I heard someone’s voice calling out to me, your voice. You were telling me not to give up, not to leave you, to keep fighting, and so I did. I bared the pain and rejected the urge to just slip away, even after they took me, I fought through all of it, because I knew that if I survived, then there was a chance I’d make it back to you, and… I really wanted that.”

That’s all it took, his words hit you straight in the chest and flowed through you, causing the flood gates to release and the tears to fall. Echo looked worried then and released your hand, bringing his to cup your cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad”, he said, internally wishing he hadn’t said anything.

You shook your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’m not sad that you told me, I’m glad you did”, you said, wiping the tears from the other side of your face. “Honestly, I’m just happy your alive, and that you did find your way back to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. When I heard what happened on Lola Sayu I couldn’t believe it at first, it didn’t feel real, but once I accepted it was… I had never felt true grief until that moment, and the sense of longing was almost unbearable. All I kept thinking was how I was angry with myself for wasting the time I had with you, lying. Lying to you, and to myself.”

“What are you talking about, lying about what”, he asked, sliding his hand down to hook a finger around your chin and turn your face back to face him after you’d turned it away during your confession.

You took a deep breath before speaking next. “I lied to you before, when I acted like that slip up was just a poor choice of words, I meant exactly what I said. See, the truth is, I was upset with myself because I never told you…”, you paused, finding this confession to be much harder than you had thought it would be to get out, “never told you that I…”

After another long pause, Echo decided to take the initiative, seeing as he knew exactly what you wanted to say, as it was the same thing he’d wanted to say to you all that time ago, still did. He used the hand that had a hold of your chin to pull you to him as he caught your lips in a kiss, one that while soft, was full of so much emotion it was almost palpable. You were surprised at first, but soon melted into the kiss, feeling completely content with staying there as long as possible.

Much too soon for your liking, Echo pulled away, but only to place his forehead against yours and let the long overdue words slip from his lips. “I love you too.”

Your smile reached your ears as his words filled you with untainted happiness, which prompted him to smile widely himself. Why had you both waited so long to do this, you didn’t know, but you were glad it was finally happening.

“Why did we spend all that time hiding, when we could’ve just done this”, you asked.

He chuckled. “Because we were both cowardly idiots”, he said.

You hummed in agreement. “I still can’t believe you did all that for me”, you said in a more serious tone.

He pulled back to look into your eyes. “Of course I did… I’d do anything for you (Y/N)”, he told you.

“Anything?”

He nodded in response and you smiled again.

“Kiss me again”, you said, it was more of a request than a demand.

He smiled and pulled you close so your face was mere inches from his.

“Yes Ma’am.”

***

It had been a good fifteen minutes since the cries had stopped and no noise could be heard from Echo’s bunk. Omega was no longer worried, knowing you had it handled, but her curiosity was starting to get the best of her.

“What do you think their talking about in there, it’s so quiet, maybe I should…”, she said as she got up from the co-pilot seat, moving in the direction of the bunks, but she was stopped by a hand grabbing her forearm, causing her to turn and stare at Hunter questioningly.

“Don’t, they’re fine, and it’s none of our business what their talking about, so just let them be, alright”, he said, giving her a warning look, one that wasn’t all that intimidating to the young girl, but she listened nonetheless and returned to her seat.

After a moment she spoke again, not being able to take the silence any longer.

“So, what’s the deal with those two, are they together, or is it some secret that everyone knows about except them”, she asked the sergeant.

Hunter laughed, this kid really was perceptive, not that anyone with eyes couldn’t see the attraction between you and Echo, it had always seemed so obvious to him, which is why he never spoke on his own feelings for you.

“Yeah, there seem to be… unspoken feelings between the two of them, but I’m sure they’ll get their acts together soon enough, especially now that they’ll be around each other more often”, he told her.

She thought on this for a moment before responding.

“I think so too… and what about you”, Omega asked him.

“What about me?”

“Are you going to get your act together as well”, she asked, raising her eyebrow and grinning at him.

“What are you talkin’ about kid”, Hunter asked, wondering if she’d somehow figured it out.

“Seriously, I’ve only just got here and I can see it”, she said.

“See what?”

“That Echo isn’t the only one who has feelings for the general.”

Hunter turned to the young clone, a look of surprise on his face. Very perceptive indeed.

“Why don’t you just tell her, at least one of you should pluck up the courage to do it”, she said.

He exhaled heavily as his features returned to a more neutral expression.

“It’s not that simple kid, there are just some things you’re not old enough to understand. Besides, it’s not reciprocated so there’s really no point, she’s made her choice, and I have to respect that”, he explained, hoping that would be that. However, he wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“Your wrong”, Omega said simply.

“What?”

“Your wrong, those feelings, they are reciprocated, yeah she likes Echo, but she likes you too.” She said it with such confidence that it made him wonder if the statement was true.

“Really, and how do you know that”, he asked, an almost sarcastic tone in his voice.

She shrugged. “Female intuition.”

He raised a suspicious brow at her but decided not to think too much on it.

“Hm, well, even if you are right, she’s still made her choice, and I won’t get in the way.”

“Won’t get in the way of what?”

Your voice made both of them jump a little. You had just made your way back to the cockpit and had clearly overheard the last bit of their conversation.

“Nothing”, Hunter said, watching you come to stand beside Omega, perching your arm on the headrest of the co-pilot chair and leaning on it.

“Really? Didn’t sound like nothing”, you said, raising your eyebrow in suspicion.

Omega suddenly perked up and turned in her chair to look up at you.

“Hey (Y/N), do you think it’s possibly for someone to love more than one person at a time”, she asked.

You were a bit taken aback by the question, but figured you’d answer, seeing as how you were being very honest today.

“Yes, I do, it actually happens a lot more often than you think”, you responded, purposefully avoiding Hunter’s gaze as you looked at the child.

“And what does that person do, you know, when they realize they have feelings for more than one person”, she then asked.

“Well, usually that person then has a decision to make, and they just hope they don’t break any hearts in the process. You see, love can be a tricky endeavor. However, I think if someone does fall for two individuals at once, then there are other options”, you said, rather matter-of-factly, given the topic at hand.

“Like what?”

“Those involved could always enter into a relationship all together, I suppose”, you said, wondering just how far she was going to take this conversation.

“And that would work”, she asked, seeming almost hopeful.

“It’s possible, yes, but only if all members involved are okay with it. They all need to know that’s what’s going on, and there can’t be any secrets”, you explained.

“Huh, I guess that makes sense”, Omega said, seeming content with your explanation. Then another thought seemed to hit her. “Hey (Y/N)?”

You hummed in response.

“Have you ever been in love”, she asked curiously.

“Omega”, Hunter said firmly, giving her another look of warning.

“No, no, it’s fine”, you informed him, not wanting him to reprimand the girl for just being curious. “To answer your question Omega, yes, yes I have.”

“With more than one person”, she continued.

You raised an eyebrow at her and crossed your arms over your chest.

“What’s with the twenty questions, am I being interrogated or something”, you asked, only half joking.

She shook her head. “No, just curious is all.”

“Uh huh, well why don’t you stow that curiosity away for later and go get some rest, it’s quiet now”, you told her.

“What did you do, I mean, how did you get him to stop”, she asked as she stood from her seat.

“I just let him know that he was safe, and that there was nothing to be afraid of”, you said, which wasn’t a complete lie.

“That’s it”, she asked.

You nodded. “That’s it.”

She gave you a look of suspicion but didn’t act on it.

“Okay”, she said, drawing out the word, and made her way to exit the cockpit.

“Sleep tight”, you called after her as she disappeared down the small corridor. You then turned back to the view port and took a seat in the now empty chair, sighing heavily before finally looking to Hunter. “Well, that was interesting, care to tell me what that was all about?”

“Not really”, he said, turning back to face forward.

You raised a brow. “Seriously?”

He shrugged and kept his gaze where it was.

You sighed again and leaned back in your chair. “Alright then, but I think it’s worth mentioning that the kid knows what she’s talking about, you might want to listen to her every now and then, she’s quite intuitive.”

He looked to you then, confusion on his brow.

“What do you mean”, he asked.

You laughed. “I mean, what she said about me is true”, you said.

His eyes widened a bit. “You, you heard that”, he asked, and you nodded in response. “How much of it?”

“Enough”, you said simply.

He looked away again as he spoke. “Then you know it doesn’t matter how I feel, you’ve made your choice, and I’m okay with that, I’ll have to be”, he said, trying to keep up this act of indifference.

You turned in your seat to face him. “You keep saying that, but, what if I don’t want to choose, because how you feel does matter, Hunter. At least, to me it does.”

He turned his head to meet your gaze. “What exactly are you proposing”, he asked.

“Nothing yet, just letting you know that, I know, and that the feelings are mutual.”

He smiled at this and nodded his understanding.

“What about Echo, have you told him yet”, he asked.

“We talked, and confessions were made… finally”, you said with a smile.

You both laughed then, happy to finally air things out a bit, all the pent-up emotions were wearing on all of you it seemed, and it felt nice to not have to hide it anymore.

“How do you think he’ll feel about your non-proposed proposal”, he asked with a grin.

“I don’t know, but we’re all adults, we can sit down and have a civilized conversation about this, and… we’ll figure this all out”, you told him.

He gave an amused huff. “You make it sound so formal.”

You nodded and gave a light chuckle. “At first, yeah, but I get the feeling that once this proposal is made, all persons involved will be… willing to give it a try”, you said, taking his hand and holding it in both of yours. “Then things will get more… informal.”

He smiled. “Yeah, how can you be so sure”, he asked, leaning toward you.

You smiled back and leaned in as well, your faces now only inches apart.

“Female intuition”, you whispered, your smile turning a bit smug.

He chuckled in amusement. “You’re ridiculous”, he said, before closing the gap between you.

The kiss was sweet and felt just as right as the ones you’d had with Echo, and just like those ones, this kiss ended all to quickly, but you were content to sit back and bask in the afterglow, you didn’t want to rush things after all.

You both sat there a moment, leaning back in your seats, staring out the view port, arms stretched as your hands sat, intertwined, between you. Maybe this really could work, only time would tell.

After what felt like hours, but in reality, had only been minutes, Hunter looked to you with a soft smile.

“I’m glad you’re here with us”, he said.

You smiled back and gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Me too”, you said, and you both stayed like that for a long while, enjoying a view you each thought was much better than the one outside the view port.

Little did you know, behind you Omega stood at the entrance of the cockpit, looking on silently and grinning from ear to ear, feeling quite pleased with herself.

[tennessoui]

40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Story of any kind of Lady Dimitrescu x Reader but have Miranda in it?

Back to our usual schedule of fics, here is one that took a bit to write! I went with full on angst and fluff so you have been warned... and will be again like twice :)

Unending Nightmare

Warnings: Graphic violence, details of injury, blood and gore, general feeling of anxiety, panic, despair, Miranda being horrible as hell and not suitable for minors.

It seemed almost surreal to regain consciousness in the main hall, her body lounging on one of two settees that sat perfectly aligned to the table in between. Alcina's spine cried in anguish with an unnatural contortion, prompting amber eyes to flutter open, blinking comically in rapid succession to disperse the remnants of sleep that clouded her vision. Rising to a sitting position relieved the strain she experienced, with subsequent stretching of limbs resulting in audible pops.

As her gaze panned briefly across the room, everything appeared untouched, even lipstick-stained cups that sat atop of matching saucers, evidence of her impromptu afternoon tea shared with her wife. A smile saw her slackened jaw tighten with the memory, her mind reliving the moment vividly as she gracefully angled her legs as to touch the ground. However, the sole of one heel didn't make it, landing upon the novel still open to the bookmarked page in which it was discarded as she succumbed to sleep.

However, as the matriarch moved to collect the piece of literature, a piercing scream laced with agony carried through the endless corridors, starling Alcina from her reverie. A sound from such a distance shouldn't have been able to travel, nor should the crying wails and sobs that followed. A note of familiarity within the voice struck a chord in the countess as her mind sought an answer. All the while, fear began to steadily crawl along her spine, wrapping tight like a snake, slithering into her heart in an attempt of manifestation. Shakily she brought her hand to her lips, eyes widening as she recognised the perpetual weeping.

The safety the castle once afforded her dematerialised before her very eyes as fragments of reality appeared to settle into place. The pleading whimpers almost quietened into non-existence, much like the fire that began to dim. In what light remained, Alcina took note of the disorganised chaos that made itself known, how furniture had been shoved aside, vases broken in the wake of a predator, even the blood that marred the marble floor.

Instinctively her claws unsheathed, sensing the danger that posed as a threat to her family. However, as the matriarch took a step closer, intent on examining the trail of crimson destruction, she staggered backwards. The scent of iron in the air was unmistakable; a smell she was well acquainted with and often so enticed by became reclusive as it hit her olfactory receptors. Someone dared to touch... harm what was hers, somewhere in the place they called home, her wife lay injured.

Grappling with the panic and horror that strove to run rampant in her mind, Alcina frantically called aloud for her daughters. But even when beckoned, her solitude persisted; never once upon summoning had her girls elected to disobey or ignore. At last, the illusion of elegance and composure shattered, leaving the countess in what she deemed an unsavoury, feral state, desperate to find and protect what she claimed to be her own.

Alcina all but marched to the cellar growing increasingly fretful with every step she took as she was forced to strain her ears to catch sound of the almost silent, pained murmurs. Ignorant of her own wellbeing, she pursued her wife in heels with an unnaturally fast pace across the uneven, damp terrain, paid by a loss of stance on more than one occasion. Upon rounding the corner in what could be deemed a dishevelled appearance, the matriarch's heart stuttered, skipping a beat involuntarily at the lurid sight before her.

Laid on a mortuary table, gasping for breath, was her beloved, blood pooling beneath her quivering frame from a freshly inflicted incision site as her body seemingly rejected what was both forced and foreign. Once vivid blue irises were almost consumed by blacked pupils, a natural response to the accumulation of adrenaline created as unwavering pain gripped her body. Teeth had long pierced both tongue and lips, allowing more blood to bead in droplets to go unused and wasted, following gravity to the drain so conveniently in place on the stainless steel table.

The growl unleashed from Alcina's throat was unrivalled; her desire to cry out extinguished as she pried her gaze upward. Standing mere inches from her wife's side was Miranda, in a laboratory coat almost befitting of her former self. In hand was an empty jar, fluid swishing with the gentle jostles of the deities movements. A worn label, lacking adhesive, clung to the glass, almost faded to the human eye, but two letters confirmed the unthinkable.

"You've arrived in time, my dear; your pet's future is dependent on this very moment."

Unable to refute the truth in Miranda's words nor bring solace to her wife, she attempted the latter as it appeared the more achievable of the two. With claws retracted, unwilling to cause more harm, Alcina cradled her wilting wife's face as delicately she could muster. She blinked several times over the next minute, refusing to let the tears she felt building fall as she honed in on the ever slowing heartbeat. Hushed apologies and whispered declarations of love were shared, albeit one-sided, in some hope that her beloved heard.

Desperate for her wife to avoid an inevitable future as a mindless moroaicǎ, she continued to track her declining health, choosing to strike as the paled woman took her final breath as a human. Before the transformation could ensue, Alcina made the decision to end what would begin within the coming minutes. Her choice is emboldened upon catching Miranda's dismissive and callous opinion, "Another failure, unsurprising."

Just as her claws were sat poised to cut and render the moroaicǎ useless, her body jolted awake, sweat beading along her brow from the horrifyingly realistic dream her mind had conjured. Swiping a hand to remove what clung to her skin, her eyes blindly searched the room devoid of light. A shaky but relieved sigh slipped past her lips as her hand came to land on and subsequently caress the top of her wife's head.

As calming as one's breathing regulations could be, it didn't replace nor best physical contact with the woman she loved. With arms outstretched, she enveloped her wife, drawing her atop her chest, listening and attempting to match the rhythmic beat of her heart. During such extrication from her place under the covers, bleary eyes opened a fraction in confusion, head tilting to mirror jumbled thoughts.

"Alci?"

"Forgive me, dragă mea, go back to sleep."

Feeling the minute shake of a head, the countess peered down, acknowledging the look of concern that replaced serenity. A hand of supple skin rose to gently gloss over her cheeks, gathering what tears had fallen with the pull of gravity.

"What is troubling you so, beloved?"

Unable to recount most of the tale, Alcina spared her wife from gruesome details, summarising the dream to one line, "It appears my mind attempted to convince me I had lost you."

A contemplative hum resonated directly below her ear, the vibration of which tickled the countess' neck as her wife nestled comfortably in her hold. "Nothing in this world could part me from you; I love you too much to bear separation in this lifetime."

"And if we had no other choice?"

A tutting sound emerged in the dark, an almost dismissal of such a notion. "Then I'd have lived a life knowing I had a woman who loved me and three beautiful daughters to succeed me."

"Poetic... only divulging such a divine talent and way with words now. But I fear you forget that you were the one, with an open heart and mind, who reintroduced my capability to love another outside my darling girls, a trait I thought had been long lost to my mutation."

A keening whine of appreciation caught her ears, further emphasised as featherlight kisses were pressed along the expanse of exposed skin, her wife opting to include areas of her jaw within reach.

"It appears we were both lucky with the hand fate dealt us." After a beat of silence, a tired voice reiterated what had been murmured in the last moments before their slumber, "Te iubesc Cina... te iubesc."

Those wise words and impromptu reaffirmation soothed the ache left by the dream, eradicating the pain like a salve. With practised ease, the matriarch responded in kind, "Și eu te iubesc," before succumbing to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

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

Both were jolted from sleep only hours later when the covers were unceremoniously pulled back and bodies pressed against them in urgency. Muffled giggles and quiet hushes saw eyes open, only to narrow imperceptibly in faux annoyance, prompting sheepish grins to spread across their daughter's lips. Half-hearted glares quickly faltered, softening into smiles, giving all three the go-ahead to bury their chilled frames in between and around the couple.

Following their lead, Bela too extricated her body, albeit with an audible whine, from beneath the covers. Soon the countess grew amused at the trio's antics as they pleaded with an array of tactics for her wife to join them for their morning routine. Reluctantly Alcina released her wife from her grasp, seeing her subsequently tugged out of bed by the girls. The four ran from the room as a game of tag began, allowing the matriarch to muse as she mapped the softened footfalls of her family throughout the wing in which they resided.

Without warning, her peace was disturbed by the shrill ring of the ornate rotary phone that sat in the adjoining room to her chambers. Donning a robe to retain some modicum of decency, Alcina took her place at her vanity, a tremor running through her hand as she picked up the receiver.

"Mother Miranda."

"Ah Alcina dear, I trust you aren't busy."

Before the matriarch had a chance to respond, Miranda continued on a tangent of her own, "Now, I called to discuss business regarding your wife; her repeated test results have revealed something rather... interesting."

From the moment that phrase was uttered with such an insinuating tone, Alcina could no longer focus. The countess' heart dropped and found herself wishing that the echoing laughter of her girls and beloved could remain forever constant in the castle walls.

[pendles-is-friendles]

The Cost

Groaning and curled in his bed, each aching joint set aflame as they strained to grow and shift under the new rounds of daily treatments to usher him into the next part of his life-cycle. Becoming an Elder, turning into a giant snake, he had grown tired of the weight of the wait over his head. The constant stranglehold over his life that prevented him from letting his heart and life move forward had started taking its toll. Those kinds of life-long commitments could not flourish with the umbrage of an unknown deadline and such massive uncertainty. Pendles granted his mate utmost and sincere freedom… he had decided that he needed to do the same for himself. Figuring out the details of Executive Executions and his work with the Rogues would come after, when he knew what he had to work with. He knew the costs… or at least he thought he did. The grip of his hand squeaked as he tightened it around the empty glass bottle he kept close to his chest, a pitiful whine escaping his throat.  Drinking the entire thing of his private stock had not touched the screaming ache that blinded him to even the covers draped over his bare shoulder and tangled between his unwrapped legs. Both legs had grown stiff, but restless as the scutes between itched and burned. Scales dotted between the folds of fabric, more and more of his skin smoothing out as the days passed. Dizzyingly drunk, he regretted this decision. He cursed Alani’s name between each hitched breath. He… just wanted the pain to stop. His hand clung to his beloved tentacle which clutched to his head in its coiled grasp. Any day now. The wait more unbearable than the detatchment itself. Every second dragged on, every moment an eternity of suffering the Devil himself would find pause with. Was this one going to hurt with the new treatments? Would he even notice it drop off with everything else clawing at him? Running the end along the top of his snout, gripping the soft scales with his scutes, he sobbed.

In a swirling, sinking blur, Pendles awoke to the realization that he had slept. The bottle was gone from his chest, the knot of blankets had been laid back over him to cover his legs, and the litter of shed scales had been cleared away. Some of the pain had ebbed, though his skeleton throbbed with each beat of his heart. It wasn’t until he sat up to shuffle to the bathroom and went to rub at his missing eye did he even realize his tentacle was not there. Cold, lifeless, the end still balled into a small coil, the arm laid across the bed just as he left it when he had fallen asleep. He expected this, this was not even the first arm he had lost in this exact way, he thought he was prepared, but it did nothing to lessen the thrall punch to his gut or the sudden rush of nausea that bubbled forth from his stomach. Scrambling to his wastebin under his desk, he heaved the ample alcoholic contents of his gut across the floor. His nose burning from the excess acidic mucus and bile and his tongue curling from the stench, the Roa growled as he tossed the useless container away. As shredded paper littered the floor and scattered across the foul puddle, Pendles rolled over to lay on a clean space on the floor to muddle over how he would clean everything up with the wrong arm. He had never had to use a mop with just one hand before.

[regulusfate]

One loose thread doesn’t take the roll down

Hinny

Prompt : You’re safe now, I’m with you .

Requested by @alwaysmagica1 <3

the title is playing on the idea one bad day doesn’t mean they all will be.

It had meant something different once, to be safe. To be safe. It had been a thousand and one possibilities, of testing boundaries, of warmth, of a breath of fresh air and her falling body and his solid arms, like an anchor.

Somewhere that had changed for both of them, she wasn’t entirely sure when she stopped being scared of that thought, or if she ever had. Even there, in the light of the lampshade watching the over the marks of their children’s presence scattered across the living room, the handprints of paint etched into the walls, the toys knocked beneath the table, there came a hint of unsettlement within her chest.

Not quite placeable, the word danced between her tongue and her teeth, on the edge of spilling over like drops of red fine wine against a cream carpet, she never could find the right word for it. An ache, yes, and her fingers massaged through the cotton of her top to the callous skin, an ache but the feeling that came with it detached like a half formed thought cast to the fringes of her mind.

She wonders when they became so complacent. How they could forget so quickly, the world in all its fragile glory, the single tap of one man to shatter the globe encasing them.

It was dangerous, to pretend so sullenly, that life had moved on as though it could never happen again and yet, they all forget, their war had not been the first.

Her husband doesn’t forget. He cannot, and she will not, tracing the scars on his chest and the blackened edges of numb flesh where he could not feel, those long term effects of evading death and that striking curse.

She sees Harry. Not the boy who saved her in the chamber, but the man that built a pillow fought with his kids. Not the war hero still fighting in the ranks of the ministry, but the man who kissed her freckles ‘like the stars’, and plays with her hair, and that body that holds her close under the sheets.

They are a reliance on each other, letting the world drift in its complacency, they are upon their own mound of earth, a whole other wave.

.

sixth year

“Weasley !”

The sun struck the air and it dazzled, as she weaved through the beams cast her way as the blue of the ocean sky seemed to shimmer, froth on water.

Ginny laughed, billowing up from her lungs into the breathless air, embracing the rush. Harry lunged for her, their bodies swooping, swooning, clambering through the clouds about the sea of green and tiny etched houses. He missed. Their game of cat and mouse.

“You know for someone with an ‘elegant disposition’ on a broom-“

She laughed harder, arching out of his stretching hands, pitching her voice to mimic the report of the latest witchly weekly article, and his face fell into horror pulling his broom up short.

“You read that!”

The mortification in his voice and it cracked an octave higher. Ginny grinned, the wind brushing through her hair.

“Did you know you have an elegant disposition Mr Potter?”

She teased and his eyes sparkled despite the groan from his lips, their chests heaving with pleasure and panting breaths and flushed cheeks.

“Did you always want to be a poet, Miss Weasley?”

Harry quipped back and she choked on the breeze that cascaded her hair in waves of sparks.

“I was eleven !”

“Are my eyes still as green as a fresh pickled toad?”

He laughed, and Ginny scowled, watching his head tip back and eyes flutter closed, the soft cylinder of his giggles echoing in the breeze.

“Is my hair truly as dark as a blackboard?” Harry wheezed

It was quickly followed by a yelp, as he narrowly avoided a strike to the head. Darting forwards, he soared away, and she snatched up the quaffle once more.

“Don’t throw it at my face !”

“Scared to mess up that nose?” She teased back, and they were chasing through the clouds and the sunlight sky.

“Hey it’s straighter than Eloise Midgen’s”

Spurring her broom forwards, his voice tailing back, and she smirked

“Let’s see that elegant disposition then, I’ve always wanted a moving target”

“This is harassment, Weasley,” the distance closed between them, her eyes narrowed on his mop of hair, and he took a sharp left closer to the trees.

“Only until you forget the poem-“ Ginny warned, half teasing though her eyes were bright and smiling as her lips twisted into a determined frown.

“His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad.”

Harry chanted with a bubbling laugh, dipping between the clouds

“Keep talking Potter !”

“At least I have a Hungarian horntail on my chest”

She snorted, thrown off guard by the sudden change, her hand slipped against the polished handle of the broom as a rogue bludger spun her way and she fumbled, off balance and unable to keep a hold as she veered to the side.

Falling was second nature to quidditch, but still a surprised noise escaped her lips as the air pushed past her, and her fingers gasped at nothing, as though the wind was fighting against gravity and losing and sinking and her hand would not reach her wand in time.

She didn’t want to die.

And then arms snatched at her waist, forcing the final breaths of oxygen from her lips in a startled jerk that bruised her ribs, and she was latching on to the stable body that kept her afloat. Something that might have been a laugh but detached from her ears and a tinge of hysteria as her fingers wound into the shirt and the world was burry in front of her eyes, woozy and sweeping, but she knew those arms as her chin connected with his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Harry murmured, a different chant, more to appease his own racing heart as his feet touched the ground gently but he didn’t attempt to remove his arms and for that Ginny was glad. She needed that anchor against her own pounding heartbeat.

“You’re safe now, I’m with you.” He mumbled, and she felt the soft graze of his lips pressing against her head as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Holy crap, Ginny I’m so sorry !”

Fred, his voice bursting forwards like a galloping horse and she could move again, the leaded feeling that weighted her legs seeped as they finally pressed fully into the grass.

“You’re an ass.” She snaps, voice partially muffled by Harry’s shoulder.

Fred’s face crumpled from horror to a kicked puppy, and Ginny sighed, not removing herself from his arms but twisting her neck to meet his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s not the first time.”

His face remained plastered in worry, until a smirk lept on to her face.

“I’m fine,” her smirk grew wider “but I think you just gave mum a heart attack.”

His eyes snapped round to meet Molly Weasley white face in the doorway and gulped. His lips moved inaudible for a moment before his eyes found George with a pleading look. ‘Save me Georgie’

It was only when Molly’s yells began from the muted walls of the burrow, did she pull away, and met Harry’s own pale face with curious brown eyes, that bordered on teasing once again.

“I’m really sorry-“

“What did you mean?” He blinked, taken aback and frowned in confusion.

“You’re safe now , I’m with you?”

The colour returned full force to his cheeks, a blush riding up and he shifted awkwardly for a moment with a bashful shrug.

“I- I dunno” he mumbled sheepishly

“Okay then , Mr Chosen One,” she grinned and grabbed his hands, intertwining their fingers and moving towards the burrow and he groaned.

She was never letting him live it down.

.

There’s a shadow at the door, a creak and he’s stood there. It’s always his eyes. Brimming with an expanse of pain and loss and his fingers jumped against the side of his leg even as he shifted weight. His throat moved beneath his skin, swallowing in air, swallowing in silence. His lips not fully closed, she knows he wants to say something, anything, she can feel the tightness of his voice just in the shuddering breath he clambered to retain.

“You’re up late,” Ginny offered gently, and a part of her wished his face would crack into that roguish godforbid sexy smirk, stride forwards and tug her up against chest with an arching eyebrow. She wants to hear his low husky ‘maybe I was waiting for you’ breathed down her neck.

She wants it, because she knows the pain that takes hold is so much worse.

“Well I-“ he bites the inside of his cheek, and turns his head. His voice is rough, but it’s grating behind the force of every swallowed scream battering in his dreams and she can see his eyes blinking, the sharp line of his jaw in the light softened by the growth of his beard and jumping in place.

“Hey,” Ginny rose silently, into the shadows of the room and slips her fingers into his larger ones. They shake slightly against her. “Harry.”

He shakes his head for a moment, the muscles in his face gripping at his skin for control and she sees the blink of his eyelashes, thrice, before he folds into her embrace. His beard is ticklish against her neck, as his head presses into her shoulder and his arms curl tightly and Ginny knows he’s clinging to the heartbeat.

She reaches through his tense and tightening biceps to rub his back. His hair smelt of roses, it’s soft petal texture, feathered against her cheek, she liked it. His hair always seemed to smell of roses.

“Hey , hey it’s okay.”

He shudders, and her fingers find gently into the soft locks. The muscles in his back tense, rolling like the cup of raindrop slipping down the veins of dying leaves, and a sob follows.

“You’re safe now,” Ginny whispered, and he presses closer. “I’m with you.”

The always is left unsaid , but she knows he hears it. For a long moment they are simply held in an embrace, his body and hers, intertwined in limbs and a shared grief.

“You’re with me,” he mumbles, “you’re with me, you’re with me”

A pause, and her chest aches more to take his pain away. He pulls back first, pressing a sleeve to his eyes with another shaking breath, and exhaling slowly. She keeps a hand on his back rubbing up and down, as her mother had done , as he had done to her.

Ginny doesn’t ask if he wants to talk about it, as they gravitate slowly towards the sofa where there’s light cast out of the shadows and their tired bodies slump into the cushions. She doesn’t need to ask. They told each other everything they could , some things had taken years to speak of, others only seconds. Sometimes it would be silence, times where neither one will speak of what came crashing, tearing through their mind, it’s a story for another day.

Harry rubs a hand down his face, their knees touching, legs almost overlapping, and torso’s inclined towards each other. He leans an arm on the top of the sofa, and his fingers brush lightly over the scar , that scar , that ripples through his skin. He does it automatically, and sometimes purposefully. It’s strange how they could find comfort in the things that haunted them most.

“I’m scared for them.” He speaks after a while, and she fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

Them being the kids and Ginny knows he means, that ever present fear that their children should grow and witness the same horrors they had seen, as their parents had before them.

“James is almost five,” and the number comes out almost breathless, as if he can’t quite wrap his head around it, a wistfulness and a yearning. She sighs and moves, and he accepts the gesture instantly, opening his arms and she curls up against his chest.

It’s not something she likes to think about, truthfully.

“I’m scared too,” Her hand rubs against his chest, watching the creases in his shirt. “But our babies are growing up, and we get to see that.”

He hums, and she moves to glance upwards and meet Harry’s eyes, still those beautiful green.

“We get that.” Ginny whispers, and the echo of a smile wraps around his lips as his fingers drift up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We do.” He murmurs, like clarification and they lean into the touch the other offers instinctively. Her head presses back against his chest, and his fingers wind their way through her hair and they’ve stopped shaking now.

“I saw you in the mirror this morning,” it’s been plaguing her all day.

“Oh?”

She can almost hear the smile in voice now, and relaxes a little more.

“You’re not getting rid of the beard.”

A deep chuckle reverberates from his chest though soft into the quiet of the house and she grins.

All was , sometimes , well . They could live with that .

[oh-for-fic-sake]

New Beginnings Chapter Three Final

Masterlist

Summary: Tension's are high when the Avengers arrive, Tony soon find himself regretting letting you go seeing what you've achieved without him. He also find himself face to face with a very angry boyfriend when a argument breaks out. Warnings: Adult Situations +18, Smut, Unprotected  Sex, Swearing, Avenger Bashing, Tony bashing, Fighting, Arguing, Slight Domestic Violence,  Angry Clark. A/N: so did a lot of research for this wanting to use existing tech from the comics ect. This is the final part and long Tony might be a little out of character but whatever I cn see him being a nasty piece of work if he wanted to be. I hope you all enjoy xxx Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @magdelen69​ @iloveyouyen​ @sofiebstar​ @thefangirlsblog​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @loserrlauraa​  @cheeseman​ @isitmine​ @tinabean37​  @agniavateira​ @msblkfire84​

You whined low in your throat the tone wasn't even as you were shunted up hips rising from the ridiculously powerful man behind you. You were bent over the kitchen counter facing the window, eyes blurry with unshed tears as your body was ridden to its absolute limits. Clawing at the marble you all but cried as one hand found somewhere to hold, an anchor to reality. Fingers latched around the edge of the sink panting trying hard not to waste the tiny breath Clark allowed to remain in your lungs, just enough to keep you conscious. Your toes were feeble in their search for purchase scrabbling up the cupboard's wanting to take some of your weight off your tummy that was molding around the cock you found yourself impaled on over and over in a smooth rhythm. He continued his invasion your body all to eager as his cock slid into place. You wept silent tears as your lover drove deeper into you almost punishing your nervous system as he made sure to glide into you sweet body at an angle that scorched your tender walls. Purposefully hitting your insides weakening your resolve and pulling you from reality pounding  you towards a magnificent end, he was tormenting you forcing your own body to build into your Seventh? Eight? Orgasm of the morning. He grunted louder throwing his head back hands shaking in restraint knew was borderline teetering on the edge of loosing his tight control you just felt so good wrapped around him! He stuttered growling and snarling eyes clamped shut trying to glow with molten heat in unrivaled lust an natural carnal desire instinctual urges fueling his mission. Clark was by all rights claiming you marking you as his very own conquered territory, taking your womb for himself. Fucking his seed into you over and over so that you'd be dripping with it, all but drenching your panties with his cum as you worked along side him your ex. His hand flexed and he eyed you still egging you on forcing you to climb higher, faster. He growled again pulling your hair taught in his fist trying to ease his quivering muscles. It was hard, so very hard not to just rut you into passing out again. But even then he knew he'd make this last he moaned low tucking his chin to his chest finally releasing your hair with a light push forward making you slump limp over the counter he'd pinned you to. For a second he thought you had passed out and huffed a breath growling, no he wanted you awake, wanted you with him. "You best not be sleeping woman!" he grunted watching you through half lidded eyes. He moved his other hand off you he was getting carried away and had to hold somewhere he couldn't risk hurting you. He quickly withdrew the hand from your ass and dug his fingertips into the edge of the marble alongside your displayed hips. Thighs held wide by his own form the slowed a little and leant down giving a reasonably gentle bite making you grunt crying at the pain he cause. Good you were still with him, at the realization he stood tall and began becoming rougher brutalizing your walls forcing you to yelp a sweet sound and beg him for more. "Pl-PLEASE CLARK-OH OHGO-AH! I'M NOT-I'M HERE I'M HERE PLEASE BABY FUCK ME!" You cried in surprise as he began getting faster and harder snarling across your back as the stone gave under his grip small finger sized dents surrounded by tiny fissures in the black worktop where his fingers sat. You cried again as he roared across your back chasing what was with any luck his final load for the morning. He'd been at this for a while now...Hours in fact, each time you thought he was finished and empty you tried to move away and get on with your day. Clark hadn't let you get more then six foot away on wobbly legs before he was on you again twisting your body pulling at your tired limbs before making your body his home again. So far you'd been taken on the bed twice, Ruined your fluffy rug in the bedroom, pounded against the door and obscenely ravished on sideboard in the hall; which was your personal favorite of the day it had been interesting with the mirror. Your labored pants and moans fogging the glass distorting the image as his held you still on your knees, splayed on the wood one huge sweaty palm holding your petals open the other around your throat forcing you to watch as his cock nestled itself inside your body until you'd ...You'd commented after between heavy pants that it had been the sexiest thing you'd ever seen... Which prompted him to then follow you into the kitchen~. You'd intended to make a coffee and relax but Clark was on a mission driven by a overwhelming need to mark you, claim you and fill you before The Avengers got here. At this point you were sure Clark wanted to drown you in the scent of his cum to an extent that even a human like Tony could smell it...You wasn't against it but you really had to be able to walk in a straight line today and Clark was slowly stealing that from you one delightful thrust at a time. You grunted as he pulled back from you as he got close you tipped your head back an wept you were exhausted! But he was not. Huffing a laugh he eyed the sweat on your back the drops trickling down your sides, your skin flush and glistening. You whined at the loss of him when you were both so close so much so you arched back trying to spear yourself back onto him. He growled lightly slapping your damp cheek as a warning. "Ah ah naughty~ When did you think that was going to happen? Hmm? Such a greedy little thing aren't you love~ so hungry for my cock you'd chase me down" he teased giving your other cheek a light slap turning it pink. He grinned wide at the desperate mewls and whines escaping you as you wriggles trying to entice him. He loved this, that even as tender and tired as you were you were still so eager to chase him for his cock, desperate to be seated on him and let him ride you into euphoria. He shook his head for a human you kept up pretty well, he would take some credit for that though after all it was his libido that was pushing your stamina. "Please! Please don't just-you can't...Clark please don't leave me like this~ fuck me make me cum I want you to cum in me again please let me make you cum again!" He let out a laugh and smoothed over your ass pretending to think before lightly tapped your the two round globes you were teasingly shaking before him. He leant down making you gasp as he places a sloppy kiss on one cheek before biting at it making you arch. "Oh alright since you asked so nicely~ Come on up...Ass up~" he muttered into your plump flesh sounding very chipper and relaxed for a man who'd all but fucked the life out of you this morning you swear to god you saw you dead grandma in the mirror earlier. You whined coughing catching your breath torn between wanting to take a breather but also needing his cock to fill you one final time at least! He was already placing your knees on the side of the marble under you ass slipping between them ankles positioned so your dainty feet were framing the ass he loved so much like a pretty picture. He tugged you back a little hanging your ass and dripping cunt just over the edge and without so much as a 'good girl' he was rutting up into you again. You arched hand now gripping the mixer tap in a white knuckle grip as he moved faster grunting and moaning. "Ah! Fuck CLARK?! PLEASE-PLE~OH! fuck~ I cant take much mooore~ AH AH AHUUGH! NO I CLARK FUCK SAKE-I CANT!?" You cried out as he moved forward pressing himself over your back a feat he only achieved due to his unfair height. You cried out as the climax that had been ebbing away now returned full force bubbling in your loins a torrent of lust threatening to overflow as his balls struck your stinging over sensitive clit. You cried out to immersed in the sensation that was just him!. You arched back up one hand pressing you up so you could try and bounce with the mans frantic motions chasing the high that he had been all but assaulting you with all morning. He grunted hissing and purring all in one as his fingers finding your ponytail again and clenched fisting the hair using it to reign you in tugging you back, your back arching further mouth wide moaning and grunting his other hand grabbed your throat holding just enough to help you move back onto him as he began swelling. "It's so fucking cute watching you try to keep up~ but you know how I feel about you trying to take over woman..." he grunted surprisingly clear as he began rutting deeper now that his hands were all but yanking you back on to his pelvis wet slaps getting louder and lewder as they joined your babbling that echoed the large space. You began gasping out apologies hearing the violence the almost bitter edge to his voice he used rarely in these moments of passion. Clark bottled up all his darkness and irritation and occasionally released it in his fucking. In these rare and coveted moods he demanded submission in the bedroom you were his release in the most beautiful rapturous of ways and if refused? He would raw you until your sobbing. You tried shaking your head crying out as your insides massaged him tighter and tighter as he spoke the delicious threatening words, he scruffed you hand changing to hold the roots of our hair at the base of your scull pushing forward stretching your spine. "You ready? Ready to cry and scream for me?~" his voice a velvet purr over your skin making you cry out breathlessly as his tilted himself back slightly then arch forward fucking you faster then your body should ever be able to physically take. The speed achieved his goal as your climax was almost instant this one wasn't a moan or cry of your lovers name it was a screech, high and echoing in primal plea the loudest roar you could muster without breath. Your clit throbbing and stinging as the nerves made you burn, a blistering heat releasing over him but he wasn't finished quite yet laughing through his deep grunts as your hands clawed as his hand still cupping your throat. Finally a few painstakingly long seconds later he came to an abrupt stop, halting his motion's with a shout, a swear and stuttering pleas of 'oh god yes' embedded a solid ten inches into your cramping heat releasing into your body hissing as his cock wept into your battered swollen cunt. You panted moaning coughing and sobbing tears streaming down your face completely exhausted and boneless panting body desperate to take in the air he had just literally stolen from you. Clark pulled back slipping from you pulling you down into his arms ignoring the way you leaked across his arms with a smile he tipped his head nose ghosting your cheek and peppered kisses across it down to your lips walking to the shower. You whined twisting your head to him eyeing him warily. "Clark no more, please I really cant- its sore stinging and I don't think-" he shushed you with a sweet kiss padding into the bathroom setting you on the sink unable to stop the smug grin as you hissed when your ass hit the cool surface. "I know, I know enough for now~ I just want to clean you up and then we can have breakfast and you can go and teach these so called hero’s a thing or two~ now come on ass in the shower" he explained as he started the power shower setting the temperature to your setting, Clark always had a scorching shower, you'd learned early on not to try and surprise him in the shower lest you be burned. You rolled your eyes and wobbly over to the large glass cubicle.

It was just past ten in the morning when they arrived, Diana greeted them. They were being brought in on a separate pad a few stories up from ground level, a separate garage from Bruce’s. Surprisingly the whole team hadn't shown up like they were expecting. Only seven. Tony, Bruce and Peter of course how could they leave out the protégé. Thor probably because he is technically an alien? Vision for maybe the same reason maybe they thought he could help due to having an infinity stone? Then two that didn't really make sense being here. Steve and Natasha? maybe they just didn't want to be left out...Fomo? The fear of missing out. Diana tried to fight the eye roll as Tony clearly eyed her up and down, it took a lot not to just drop him on the spot. Diana would never hurt a human, but was he? In her eyes he was scum, you had told her a few details that the others hadn't been privvy to. You were drunk and got very loose lipped and mentioned a few thing's you'd done at Tony's insistence even thought you didn't really want to and a few things he had said, hurtful and degrading things. The man tried to make you feel dumb and useless- well not completely he made sure you understood your limited uses. Inexperience had made you naive you'd thought it was dirty talk but once you stood back things became clear. Dirty talk shouldn't leave you a devastated mess and make you want surgery. You were a whore to him, a virgin slut to ruin and use. She had no doubt that if a Clark found out Tony wouldn't survive very long. Clark was a kryptonian a hero the symbol of hope,Superman...But he was still a man and any man worth his salt would fight for his woman's honor. And if he laid into Tony well lets leave that, one there shall we?

"Well if it isn't the woman wonder herself!?" Tony said arms stretched out as he got closer she wondered of you grin on his face was supposed to be charming or not. She smile anyway hey were here for as long as it took to figure out what this thing was, the tensions would be high enough when they saw you she didn't need to add to it. She just hoped Bruce was at least gonna record the meeting on surveillance you had been hearing up for the past week. Winding yourself in a tight ball anxious and biting at the bit, so had Clark Bruce ended up trying to give you the week off as Clark was following you ravishing you all over the tower.

"I thought they'd send Supes out to do the meeting and greeting isn't he your posterboy-" Tony's words were cut short as they all ducked even Thor was unprepared as Clark flew passed diagonally from below cutting through the air fairly slow all things considered. He'd done it so he could make a sound akin to a jet the air wrapped around them  a few seconds after he passed when he was but a dot in the distance as he passed a rumble of the sound followed. They all watched as Clark headed straight up into the air creating a sonic boom as he finally took off full speed through the ozone.

Diana smiled Clark was showing off he'd just been near the top of the tower spending some 'quality time' with you and had taken off from your balcony so he must have dropped down and flew around here to the other side of the building just to put on a show. He wasn't trying to impress them he was trying to warn them. She shook her head no he was trying to warn Tony. To bring home the fact he was a human. Diana eyed him, the billionaire did seem a little paler now.

"Well he just popped out, shall we?" She said turning directing them all into the tower. The visiting team kept looking out for the man of steel as they entered they looked uncomfortable. Good they should be, they'd spent to long letting things go to their head's here they weren't so special. Here they wasn't the strongest or the smartest or the bravest.

"Soo wheres he of to?I thought he was the whole reason we're here? You know the kryptonian tech and all that jazz?" Tony asked keeping up with Diana as she lead them further into the tower towards the designated rooms which would be the Avengers home.

"The sun. And although you have kryptonian tech Superman is not going to be as involved as you might think. We have a specialist here. A human she's an expert and is the only person on the planet who's making breaking trough's the kryptonian technologies." Diana explain vaguely smiled to herself if only they knew. It was Natasha who spoke next.

"He's going to float around the sun? Why?" Diana turned to her tipping her head slightly.

"To relax he has been busy, using up a lot of energy recently so is going to spend a few hours inside the sun. He will be back when everything begins" she explained as she placed her hand on the elevator scanning pad. Letting her enter with everyone. "So your telling me he can go into the sun? Really I mean he doesn't burn up and disintegrate?" Diana shook her head at vision who was looking skeptical

"No it makes him stronger, he says its warm but thats about it"

"So it's true no radiation can hurt him? He truly is impenetrable?" Bruce asked slowly making Diana nod she was getting wary now they w ere getting a bit to much information. Steve could tell she was uncomfortable and changed the subject. "So is the whole league here?" He asked as the elevator climbed a few floors and finally pinged the doors opening again. She smirked they had dorms with two bathrooms to share between them as you had requested.

"Yes the league and titans are here at the moment, this is your floor you'll find everything you need. The security is bio metric and the pads by the door with take scans of your palms when you first put you hand on them don't fight it it will release you when-" Tony scoffed rolling his eyes.

"Bio metric security? Oh I wounder if its as good as mine maybe we could collaborate on that" Diana growled under her breath and quickly smiled.

"I doubt you have the same considering its kryptonian,  just don't fight it sometimes its finicky" and with that she left going to the elevator

"I'll come get you when Superman is back until then please make ourselves at home" she said curtly before directing the elevator up the lab you were going to use.

You sighed padding down the corridor to the lab you'd heard Clark come back from his top up signalling it was time to bite the bullet and go see the team. after breakfast Clark had taken off doing a big swoop of the building in a show of power he said that he 'wanted them to realize who was in charge here' you'd rolled your eyes at him and kissed his cheek. Before he dove off the balcony something that despite knowing he could fly always made your stomach drop. He'd returned a few moments ago and you knew Diana was going to collect your guests and their find. Your flats didn't make a sound on the floor a you entered the elevator. The lab that had been chosen was a lower lab. One you didn't use much but you wanted to keep this project away from your others. You hung your head sighing here we go, the big reveal. You felt sick it was like the last eight and a half months hadn't happened and you were that nervous beaten down woman all over again.

Finally the elevator pinged and you stepped out there they were. Not the whole tea, thank god. They were all talking among themselves and Clark didn't look to pleased he was tense on edge as Tony Steve and Thor tried to kiss ass Peter was just being Peter and standing oblivious looking around the lab. Your lab.

"Y/n great your here!" Clark's head snapped up drawing the attention of Everyone as the man of steel spoke turning to face you smiling.the room fell into a deafening silence as you made your way over to them. Trying to fight a smug grin as your old team shared looks with one another. Tony was the first to react taking a step back face suddenly angry you knew what it was. Jealousy, he envied the fact you were here with the tech he coveted. Thor being the happy dolt he was spread out is arms with a loud booming laugh. "Y/n? Its so good to see you! I thought we'd never cross paths again after you found out Tony was cheating! How have you been?" You smiled at him politely as he turned to Tony. "Look its your Y/n- well not anymore but she's here!!" you watched Clark clench his fists at Thor’s words and Diana sucked in a breath tensing ready to attempt to intervene if he lunged. You eyed Clark warning in your gaze and stepped around Tony he turned slowly following you as you chose to ignore him. "Thank you Thor, Its good to see you to. And I'll admit I didn't think we'd see each other again but you need my help. But I'm doing very well" "Yes we I see that! You look much happier!" He added grinning fro  ear to ear seemingly oblivious to the tension he was creating the big lug was nothing but consistent. The thought made you chuckle and you tipped you head to him then motioned around you. "I am Thor! I really am this place is fantastic I've found my home I just wished I'd accepted this offer sooner" you added twisting the knife watching the others all linger uneasy they were waiting for a blow up but no. You were passed that. You gazed at Tony and you ere happy to say you felt nothing. You'd been worried you'd feel regret? Guilt? You wasn't sure but the anxiety melted when you didn't even feel anything much. Maybe disgust and a little anger but apart from that you were pretty indifferent to him.

"Y/n you? This is where you ran off to? Wow Thor’s right you look...Fuck" You took a breath as he spoke taking a step forward hands in the air eyeing you  biting hos lip a little all previous anger had gone and he was staring. You knew why Tony had been disgraced after you left. It was all over the news Pepper left him and leaked the affair and bastard child. But not your affair? You'd waited for it but nothing you supposed it could have been an apology?  Or a thank you? Gratitude for you letting her know what else had gone on. He was currently single his goody two shoes hero image tarnished and was pretty much blacklisted by women. You tilted your head eyes flicking to Clark who had looked away but hos eyes were still flickering to you, he wanted to tug you out of Tony's reach Clark’s eyes followed the human as he moved forward attempting to kiss your cheek but you dodged gracefully away. You and Clark both agreed you wouldn't reveal your relationship you didn't trust them not to blab you were safer in the long run if they never saw. But it was clear he didn't like Tony trying to get handsy with you, his jaw twitched locking he was gritting his teeth but you shook your head at him subtly then nodded to Tony. "Yes Tony, I was offered a spot here and took it now I'm in charge of all kryptonian technologies. He finds it and I fix it" you said nodding to Clark. As you closed the distance crossing the lab in measured unhurried steps. Tony took a moment to eye you cautiously as you approached him, something was different from the last time he'd seen you, you were confident held yourself different spoke louder held your head higher. He gulped that confidence was something you gained through success. And successes for you could mean trouble for them what if one day he wasn't on top? And you were? Tony never liked being second best. "So what did you bring me?~" You asked with a grin coming to a stop beside him but just out of reach. Tony grit his teeth there was so many things he wanted to say, he wanted to hash things out to argue or talk or something! Not just leave things as they ended. The others just watched on as Tony flicked his eyes to the huge artifact behind him.

"We don't know, its heavy thats why we have Steve, vision Thor and myself here t took all of us to lift it." You cast a quick glance to the case holding his suite by his feet and smirked. Diana had made them carry it in? You saw her share a chuckle with Clark. Couple of sneaky bitches! You couldn't kill the grin tilting your head down trying to hide your amusement. God forbid Tony thinks your laughing at him. You hummed It was huge a metallic gun metal grey oval rounded on all sides a decorative molding on the edge. There was a center embossed ring that was mottled like a mosaic lined that looked deep ran  between the smooth surface. It reminded you of a smaller box Clark had brought you back a few weeks ago it had held books mainly that you were slowly deciphering. But it was also different  it didn't have the same design on the sides, no hidden compartments that came out to unlock it was a sealed unit.

"We thought it could be a transportation ship? Like the thing supes rode in" tony admitted locking eyes with your lover and moved his head side to side a little crossing his arms over his chest Ego clashing much like  it did with Steve at first Tony liked to think himself a big man and didn't like bigger men. "How did you get here by the way? Like was it an accident or you know just dropped as a scout and them your planet mysteriously blew to hell?" The bitchiness took you by surprise but honestly Clark was throwing him daggers with his eyes. You gasped and intercepted what ever words where about to be spat at Tony this could get ugly quickly Clark really didn't like the avengers, Tony in particular so you doubt he’d play nice.

"Its not! Tony I've worked on his ship and its not, this is a lock box of some kind, I've opened a few before but not as big" You did a once over walking around it fingers skimming it ,smooth and cool, metal obviously but in this moment. You tapped it hearing a deep short thunk. It was definitely a box hollow but the metal was thick and is the same as the other artifacts. It was when you got to the back you saw it the damage. Clearly the iron man suit. You growled and eyed Tony. "Whats the fuck? What you couldn't figure it out so you decided to try and smash it? Really?" You growled Tony scoffed shifting on his feet. "I didn't know what it was and I wanted to find out!" He argued you shook your head. "So you smash it!? Your a fucking idiot!" You growled and turned looking aroun d the lab. Vision called out to you pulling your attention away from Tony. "Your sure its a box y/n?" It was the question on everyone's mind you looked at it nodding pressing a palm to it letting the metal cool your skin. "Its definitely a type of lock box, a chest- like I said I've opened them before but smaller and not at decorative as this...The others were easy to figure out but this one might not be as straight forward..." you turned to Diana with a grimance. "I've got a feeling its going to be similar to our security system so need to run some tests if it is DNA specific activation then its gonna take a few days to override it and reconfigure...Maybe a week?" "I need it over there, gonna scan it-" "Don’t you think we already did that? can't see through what ever metal that is" To your surprise the snippy reply came from Banner you rolled your eyes god give you strength. It would seem your new position hadn’t just got up Tony's nose. "Let me guess you tried x-ray? And ultrasound? Trying to peek inside?" He nodded pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose looking smug. You growled and gave a sardonic grin.. "Well I'm not trying to look inside, I'm going to figure out what metal it is, depending on the percentage of certain metals i can decipher a date with that date I can figure out what corresponding system would have been used at that time to seal it and what it could possibly be. If thats alright with you Dr Banner" You explained slowly like speaking to a child shutting him up very quickly. "I doubt it, it doesn't match any known elements on ours" you hung your head at Tony's egotistical comment he really thought his lab as the be all and end all, that there wasn’t anyone on earth who could possibly know more then him. "Well your not an expert on it are you Tony? No your not thats why you've come here asking for my help because I am and I have the tools and the knowledge to open it" you said Clark and Diana chuckled as you managed to shoot down the two scientists who were now pouting like children. You spun eyeing the rest of your esteemed guests. "Any other snippy comments? No? Good! Now I need it over there so I can run our database" you nodded to a small platform near your equipment...It might just fit hang off the edge a little but thats fine. The 'hired muscle' all moved to the large heavy object but your Clark beat them to it lifting it with one hand bicep not even bulging as he held it delicately. You smirked shaking your head he was showing off proving his strength to make the others wary. And it was working each of your guests began to pale eyeing on another as Clark set it down onto the platform. He grinned deciding to add insult to injury as when he began inching away he noticed it was crooked and moved it centering it with his foot, barely grazing it with the side of his toe. You sighed sealing a glance at the group now all very aware who was the real muscle in the room. You couldn't help the burst of pride in your chest at how he had showed up the worlds 'mightiest heros' you grinned thats your man! Diana even rolled her eyes at his antics. "And that would be why I love having you around the lab Supes I appreciate your help " he smiled at you over the top of the oval dome and walked around standing beside you. "So I'm just convenient? A useful tool? I'm hurt" he said placing a hand to his heart you rolled your eyes at him as he stepped away from the platform walking to wards you standing beside you looking down with a smirk. Oh he knew what he was doing. "Well you do make yourself useful occasionally~" you teased back a little banter still wary of the multiple eyes he laughed and watched you move to a control panel you cast a glance over the artifact. "Right lets get the show on the road!"

You moved about unhurriedly Banner and Peter were helping you stabilize the artifact that had affectionately become known as the pod. You were close to opening it after getting the DNA scanning mechanism off the psycho kill bot that had attacked Barbra you'd identified that to Tony's annoyance you were correct the pod was locked tight using a DNA bio metric system similar to the tower but older. Luckily with the new scanner you were able to see that a sample of kryptonian blood to cross examine and match. Working on the bot you'd finally found a way to change the 'user' as it were. You could give Clark access to it which Bruce had taken care of it in the bat cave drawing blood with a specially designed kryptonite needle that he had to hand for some reason? Konner and Jon had got bloods done to so you had a decent amount on hand the pod held around fifteen milliliters of sample DNA and the security system only ever drew one or two drops so a few vials wouldn't go amiss. The last week had been tense Tony had barely said two words to you. The one time he did try to speak was two days ago he ha cornered you in a quiet corner of the lab. You'd been sitting soldering making a connection to be able to effectively 'plug in' the scanner so you could switch the accepted DNA with Clark's and open the pod.

"So? You really left us to come here...Left me for this?" You stopped soldering he really was determined to do this? You tipped your head to him as he sat next to you.

"Yes Tony, it beats being a secretary or fuck toy" you bit out not trying hide any of your bitterness. He rolled his eyes at that leaning back crossing his arms.

"Oh come on like it was that bad you loved it~"

"Yes Tony every woman like being treated like a whore, fucked and left alone on the bed minuets after.." you grit out at him the anger coming back in waves at his blasé tone. He waved a hand about

"I mean come on it was fun while it lasted" he said offhandedly smirking at you then bit his lip eying your chest, one of the few things he praised you for your bust was a little larger then usual for a woman of your frame. You folded your arms over your breasts crushing them hiding them from him frowning you began to speak. "You have no idea do you? Tony you lied to me, lead me on just to stop me from being better then you! To stop me from proving you wrong and making you look bad! What part of that was fun!?" You asked shaking your head voice slowly raising as you began getting really irritated anger flickering in your eyes. "Don't you miss it? The sex I mean...I doubt you get many offers here but the  again I can spy a little love bite peeking right here, but come on I've been here nearly a week and no boyfriend so obliviously a one night stand" he eyed your shirt collar and you growled at him. He looked around the lab then slowly drew his gaze to your eyes. "Look have you ever thought about coming back? Its not to late, we can try again. This time be in the lab with me we can do great things if we collaborate-" you cut him of with a loud laugh and shook your head at him, he was confused watching as you continued giggling. "Really? That’s gonna be your fucking play? You are un-fucking-belivable you know that? Let me make this clear to you despite what you think Tony you are not that important and you didn't leave that much of an impression on me. I'm not nor will I ever be coming back Tony and I am never ever ever going to sleep with you again" you stated bluntly you carried on chuckling at him, he looked so offended nose scrunching making him look old. You shook your head , how the fuck had you ever thought he was the sexiest man on earth? You wanted to go back and bitch slap some sense into yourself. "Yet your fucking someone here whats the difference? Come back to us, to me I can give you everything you've ever wanted-" he argued getting snippy with you lashing out because he wasn't getting his way, you wasn't falling for the charm and sweet talk. You had gotten stronger without him and he couldn't resent it he had held you down for nearly two years and now here you were better, smarted more confident in only eight months. "Ha! What? For a price? Let me guess my research? My projects and knowledge, it must really get you that I'm here day in day out with tech you'll never get our hands on or ever understand. That I'm here doing it alone without you. Tell me how much does it get you that your not needed by yet another person? That I walked away" you hissed at him leaving him speechless you'd never been like that before. He gulped and tried to find words but couldn't under your intense gaze. "I'm not coming back you played the game and you lost Tony you lost bad now try not to get in my way for the rest of your stay...Oh and for your information Tony these bites? Not a one night stand my boyfriend gave them to me" with that you turned back to your work ignoring him after a few moments he got the message and left you smiled as he sauntered off you'd touched a nerve. Good!

From then he had avoided talking to you instead he watched eyeing you from his desk and Banner had been the one to mediate the tense conversation's that did take place. The others had left not able to endure the dorms and sharing facilities they were used to the cushy life in their 'golden tower'. So it was just the three stooges Tony, Banner and your replacement Peter. You didn't hate the kid but it stung he was the smartest idiot you knew...Except for Tony Your anxiety was mounting over what was inside the pod you'd been reading through the documents and hings were pointing into a grim direction. This particular pod was from around the forties and you suspected there was a weapon inside. A particular blade has been mentioned in a few books made of a super dense metal that can penetrate kryptonian flesh. Kryptium. And you wasn't sure what to do, if it was it was staying here fuck the avengers that was something that could potentially kill your boyfriend and adoptive sons. You'd kept this to yourself not even mentioning it to Clark or Diana. You wanted to wait and see. Currently you, Peter and Banner were going to move it upright you'd been laying it on it's side all this time! You were pulling out another little bit of tech you'd tweaked from another experiment courtesy of Clark and Bruce. Vaxxium. An anti gravity generator from a kryptonian outpost they'd needed it for the ridiculously heavy gravity on the planet they'd been scouting. Bruce had already tinkered with it before you got here but you'd perfected it you can alter the gravity in the lab or just a specific closed off area. Such as the platform   Tony was watching from the sidelines he was being a child today knowing his time was coming to an end he'd tried to hack into your system and just as you'd asked Victor had piled his system with maleware, adware, worms trojons the lot. It had been a laugh watching him as he realized his phone, tablet, laptop and a suit had all been affected, victore he’d even fucked with FRIDAY and she was glitching the fuck out. Tony couldn't say anything either trying to keep his little espionage silent but Victor had told you through your comms. You looked over to your other guests Jason, Tim and Damien were all here watching the bat boys were always around you when Clark,Konner and Jon wasn't about you couldn't help thinking that wasn't a coincidence. Currently your superboys were saving people from a devastating hurricane the Caribbean they'd been there for a few days hanging around to help even as the storm was dieing down. "Right Peter step back if you could spin us a web and gently pull it to the center" the boy smiled nodding you gave a count down and activated the vaxxium letting the extremely heavy pod now be the weight of a few hundred pounds. Peter pulled it slowly until it was in position. Then you flicked off the anti gravity and the pod creaked with a rattle as it settled standing up right thanks to Peters webs. You smiled thanking him making his face light up in a grin. You could see his appeal it was  just happy to be involved. "Sooo let me get this straight? He gets to go around town throwing his sticky white strings all over the place and its fine, when I do it its InApPrOpRiAtE" you hung your head rubbing the bridge of our nose as Jason's comment caused childish chuckles from his younger brothers even Tony snorted despite his bad mood. "Boys behave or leave- Red hood do not scoff at me young man! you want to be here on cleaning duty tomorrow? No I thought not." You warned making Jason flinch he hated cleaning it was dull and with the likes of Clark about to check his work it was never clean enough. You shook your head and turned pulling out the small vial of Clark's blood you'd kept it on you not letting it off your person since being handed it. You walked to the small camouflaged opening for new samples once you'd connected the scanner a small section had morphed into a tiny funnel type hole. You hesitated getting a bad feeling. Dread heavy in your tummy like a steel weight rolling around a heavy cold sickening feeling. "Whats up? Do it, it wont open till he's back but this way we can see if it takes" Banner added. You faltered technically he was right and the sooner this was done the sooner you were rid of Tony you flicked your eyes to the surveillance camera in the corner you knew Bruce and victor were watching you nodded to them. "Boys out" you said eyeing the bat boys who were still sitting waiting watching and guarding like a couple of guard-pups. They all moved shrugging and complaining. "But Y/n we're here incase-" you held up a hand stopping their protests and pointed to the door giving them a mum look. "No buts out I'm not risking you now go wait outside you to Peter" you announced not giving any room for arguments you hear a few mumbles as they all got up off their asses. "Why me I can just?" You fixed Peter with a look and he quickly flinched. "Now!" you watched as they huffed stomping out of the lab and Bruce quickly locked the room down, the only way to get out was you scanning your palm to pull out of lock down it was protocol you wasn't sure.

The process didn't take long it was a plug in and play just how you wanted it nice and simple. You fist pumped as your cables fit together connecting the two bits of tech Everything was going smoothly until there was a voice. "El DNA accepted" then a hissing sifting noise followed by a shuck sound. You froze as the pod opened revealing a weapon held center in the pod. Fuck. Tony and Banner eyed you confused it shouldn't had opened without Clark here. "How did it?" You shook your head at Banner cutting off his questioning trying to play it off as a fluke but no. "I don't...Maybe it was because of the change? It assumed he was here?" You wasn't going to say you were the cause. You frowned at the pod in the rush you'd forgot about the tiny fact that this thing could sense Clark's residue. You and Clark had been at it every morning this week. He was a determined to have you overflowing with him as you spent the days around your ex. You looked to the now open pod and your world stopped. No. Please god no. Banner moved from behind the console and Tony turned approaching slowly. Terror gripped at you as you eyed the sword. It was as you'd feared. Kryptium. It was the only thing weapons like that were made of on krypton used for execution's and very rare. Tony began throwing a fit he kicked a chair in rage as he eyed the sword.

"What is it y/n? Your heart spiked you know what it is?" You swallowed dryly and spoke quietly into your comms answering Victor. "Deadly...To Clark the only other thing.." you trailed of in a hushed tone hearing them gasp and panic as they understood Bruce was quick to answer see you begin to freeze panic setting in at the thought of something else deadly to Clark was here in the lab it made your stomach tie in knots. "Open the door Y/n let us in, we wont let them take it I will put it with the kryptonite, we can't get in you need to unlock it!" you nodded slow trying to edge your way to the door but stopped when Banner called out to you. "Hey any ideas? You look a little worried....Should we be?" You stopped your slow walk and placed a smile on your face. And waved then off as you now had their full attention you looked to the sword then Banner and finally your eyes rested on Tony who was about to throw a fit. "No no its- I'm not worried, just surprised I've read about it, these were ceremonial! Like high military badges of honor! That’s all...Highly prized on krypton but pretty useless" you said trying to be convincing. If you could convince them it was nothing of real value, just sentimental to the owner maybe they'd leave it here without a fuss? Tony eyed you and growled getting angry. "A sword? All that for a sword?! Not a gun or laser beam or or some incredible tech...A fucking sword!?" You walked towards it feeling sick. This was not good. And it wasn't leaving this tower. Banner eyed you then Tony. "Its still a weapon Tony, kryptonian maybe a new metal? Could be like vibranium?" He prodded making to move closer to it. You flinched almost lunging for it you fought yourself. They can't know, they cant find out. "...But a sword Banner? What the fuck!? We can't use it or or anything! None of us use fucking shit like that! The most advanced race and they gave us a fucking sword!" Tony shouted as he paced he was pissed this had not been what he wanted. He wanted technology breakthrough's or nuclear grade weapons. "Its a weapon Tony...Deadly the kryptonian's wouldn't have made it or locked it up if it was dangerous" you cursed Banner as you watched the reality hit Tony. It could harm kryptonian's? Could harm him could be his little saving grace, the card up his sleeve for when the Justice League overstepped their boundaries. It was a weakness to the most powerful being on the planet and Tony wanted it, he wanted that power to threaten the strongest thing on the planet. Tony stood tall and smiled suddenly happy he now had leverage.

"Right then, well thank you Y/n for opening it but we best be on our way- l want this sword wrapped up and we can go home" you ran in front of Tony stopping him in his tracks glaring. You could hear the panic in the other leagues voice as they shouted for you to get to the door and let them deal with it but it was to late. "No! Tony your not taking it!" Tony scoffed and moved to walk around you but you blocked him he folded his arms scowling down at you his eyes sharp and stern. He didn't like being told no. "Y/n come on out the way-" you shook your head remaining still in front of him eyes fixed on him. You were serious trying to act tough but inside you were cowering shaking you had to keep this here, you had to protect them, protect your boys. "No! Your not having it, the sword stays here" you retorted arguing you were not letting Tony have it, if he had it he'd use it on a whim or whenever the government told him to. It only needed one paranoid person To give the order and if Clark killed Tony defending himself? It would be chaos! Superman killing Iron man it would be a battle of the century Avengers vs the League. "Get out of the way...Why do you?- you know what it really is! Your holding out on us!" you stood your ground Tony gained on you smirking and grabbed your arms making you yelp and wince. "What is it? Huh come on love don't go all shy now~ It can hurt him cant it? Can kill him!?" You yipped and kicked at him as he shook you. Trying to get answers but you wasn't going to take the bait you vaguely saw Banner look lost he was unsure whether to intervene. You struggled against his hold hissing as he dug his fingers into your arms. "I don't know what your talking about!" You spat at him making him angry he growled in his throat then pushing you back trying to get you out of his way. "You don't have to say it sweetheart Your an open book you forget I know you, Fucked you! You can't hid from me it will kill him and I'm having it" you jumped up roaring at him hitting out in rage and lunged forward pressing him back a step. "No your fucking not!" It soon became a scuffle as you tried to match him trying to use your weight to knock him back. Tony may not be a super solider or type of meta-human but he was a strong man and much larger than you. He outmatched you quickly shoving you harshly out of the way. But in doing so you fell over your scrabbled back your hand clawing at the pod willing it to close praying that it recognized you again. It worked by some miracle the pod locked it again. Once it was shut you rolled away into a run but Tony turned on you sneering chasing and capturing you.

He hoisted you up off the floor and turned dragging you back you kicked a failed about shouting at him. But he continued dragging you back to it. "Why do you have to fuck around so much open it!- Open it...Open the fucking thing!" You grunted as he pushed you towards it clearly losing his patience you hissed catching yourself palms touching either side of the opening of the pod you willed it to remain shut. After a few seconds you realized somehow it knew what you wanted and you shook your head turning to face him. "No fuck you" you growled moved a few steps back from the pod it was closed and it was staying shut. Tony panted glaring and pointed to it moving forward threateningly. "We brought it here its ours! Now just- look sweetheart we can do this all day or you can be reasonable and open it either way I'm taking it" he said still stepping towards you. You laughed at him "You really think your gonna get out of here with that? That the league is gonna let you just waltz right out the door with it? Fuck no! Tony we can't trust you with something like that! Your reckless!" He scoffed and pointed to himself "Oh I cant be trusted? Yet you can clearly bias if you had to use it you fucking wouldn’t do it! At least we would, I would!" He admonished trying to justify his need for the sword trying to twist this with the whole 'its for the greater good' an excuse he'd come to use often to cover up his own selfish desires. "Why? Fame the glory of killing him!? Haven't you killed enough!? For fuck sake for a man who doesn't make military weapons anymore you still manage to kill thousands each year!" You screamed at him finally letting it your true thoughts. It was time someone had the guts to tell him some home truths. He growled standing almost chest to chest with you shouting back down at you now in a full blown screaming match with you. "Collateral! The numbers never out weigh the good we do!! The fucking lives I save!!" His words were clear. He didn't give a shit it was about the payoff, the glory and the publicity nothing more if people died to bad! He liked being the big guy! All powerful ironman! It made you sick to your stomach that he could be so black and white over this, so very blunt and callous over lives effectively sacrificed  for his ego. "The numbers are lives Tony! Human lives with families and jobs ambitions! And they die needlessly because you want to prove yourself a hero?! To et and ego boost whilst looking like the good guy?!" Tony twitched at your comment shoulder tensing as you dint back down he didn't like it. He never liked being challenged least of all buy a woman. "Oh and fucking the league don't?" You scoffed at him stepping closer getting in his face you wasn't scared of Tony, you couldn't let him think you were. You spoke in a lower tone still firm but no longer shouting "No they don't need to prove it Tony...They aren't like you, you think your a hero? No! Your just a war monger who doesn’t want to share anymore" that seemed to be the last straw as Tony without thinking struck you across your cheek. You yelped going down the impact was hard enough to knock you off your feet tumbling down the few steps of the platform. There was a beat of silence then all hell broke loose you barely heard the screams of 'Clark don't!' In your ear piece that was luckily in your other ear. Before you could even register the pain in your cheek there was a huge deafening sound coupled with a roar of outrage and Tony was no longer standing in front of you. Or behind you in fact you couldn't see him. All you could see was red, the famous red cape flowing in front of you.

Clark. He had heard Tony slap you, seen it from above the room and had tore through the building to get to you. And he was seeing red literally the glow showed his absolute fury his frame was rigid and trembling. His breath was heavy pants growls in his throat echoed throughout the room with each exhale. He was a predator watching his chosen prey, gaze locking onto the human who'd struck his woman. "Put your hands on my woman again I dare you" you blinked up at Clark you'd never heard him like this before it was actually quite frightening. You took a shaky breath and sat up slowly tucking your leg to the side leaning on one hand the other smoothing over your smarting cheek you pulled away seeing blood from your mouth and dabbing again you realized it was from your nose and mouth. You whined drawing Clark’s attention his red gaze appraised you looking for damage. His eyes spotted the blood and he snarled looking to Tony who you'd realized had been punted across the lab and was winded and hurt wheezing as he got up off the floor. "Your woman? What he's your boyfriend?! You could of fucking warned me!" You looked from Tony to Clark and back again feeling much better yet much much worse as Clark began gaining on a clearly injured Tony. "What?! you mean you wouldn't have fucking hit me if you knew?! you fucking coward!!" Tony growled at you angrily and moved trying to call a suit gearing up for a fight he had been hankering for. But Clark was faster swooping across the room collecting it and crushing it with his bare hands. It was only then that Tony realized how fucked he was. The man loved to believe that he was invincible with his suit and Clark had just crushed it with his bare hands. "Y/n call him off- just stop him ugh!-" Clark sped to Tony clutching him by the throat hoisting him off the floor to eye level. The red glow dimmed to an orange then brighter he was warning him, Clark wouldn't really do it...You think? Honestly you wasn't sure no one had ever hit you before in front of him you knew he was protective and a gentle man he was dead set against hitting women at any level so seeing another man put his hands on you in anger had really triggered him...Clark was a good few inches taller, another thing that had irritated Tony. The billionaire was terrified legs flailing about trying to get away from the enraged kryptonian. "You made her bleed...Should I return the favor?" You gasped that did not sound like your Clark it was then you started to panic yourself and slowly began dragging yourself from the floor. "So high and mighty an ego of which I've never seen before...Full of yourself and you believe that you are untouchable...Unbreakable and indestructible but without the suit you are weak...With the suit? Still weak pathetic" You gasped this was going to end badly. Clark would regret anything he did Tony in the long run. You managed to quickly stagger beside him pressing your hands to his chest. Clark offered you a glance and his gaze softened then he focused n your cheek. It was pink and beginning to swell. With a growl he turned back to Tony who was still hanging there his hands trying to claw at the grip on his neck eyes wide and panicked. You moved ducking under the arm holding Tony smoothing your hands up Clark's abdomen and chest pleading with him as you did trying to Calm him down. "No! No please don't you'll regret it please....Please Clark look at me...Please just put him down-" your pleading was cut off as Clark's lips tore back in a snarl and his chest vibrated under a spine chilling growl. A truly deep primal sound that you felt more the  heard he spoke in the same angry voice eyes still blazing locked onto his target. "He hit you I cant let him get away with it!" You faltered feeling a little put on the spot. But shook your head and slid your hands to rest at his shoulders trying to massage the muscle wanting to ease him out of his temper as quickly as possible but you didn't know how, this hadn't happened before. "And you've terrified him! Please love...Please drop him its offer he will go- let them go, it's done please for me don't do it!" Clark halted moving to cup your injured face taking a few breaths you nuzzled into his palm releasing a sigh. Trying desperately to calm him but he was still shaking with rage. Then there was a thud Clark had dropped Tony into a heap on the floor. Just as you were swept up one arm around your waist and twisted followed by another loud smash and a deep groan. You blinked catching up with what happened Clark had one palm lightly extended and the hulk was now in the hall having been 'gently' pushed into the door tearing right through it. You moved pressing a kiss to Clark's cheek making him take a deep breath. "Leave take your friends and go back to new york Tony stay there and stay out of the Leagues way or you'll answer to me and Y/n wont be there to save you" you trembled at Clark's voice it was cold and made you shiver in dread. Clark would kill him, he was going to kill Tony because of a slap? It was a lot to take in. Tony slowly and carefully got up and with one last frightened look he slowly walked to the crater keeping his eyes on the man of steel who was wrapped around you shooting daggers at him. Tony had lost the game but this time he admitted defeat Clark hadn't even hit him but Tony knew, he could see it in his eyes he wanted to the only thing that kept him alive was you. Because if Superman had hit him he would have been dead. There’s no two ways about it and it scared him. His suit couldn't save him this time, he tech was nowhere to be found. And for the first time in a long time he was just a regular man, not a billionaire or a hero or even a genius. He was a human who'd angered a god, a true god not an asgaurdian. A living breathing, planet throwing, sun destroying god and the realization terrified him.

That was the last you heard from any of the avengers, you had expected them to come back but it would seem Clark really had shook Tony with his display so they stayed away. They didn't even fly the quin jet's over 'League territory' anymore Clark had warned them and they had listened and you were glad. The sword was now locked up tight with the kryptonite which was a relief. It was a few days later Clark sat you down to talk and what he had to say was...Sweet he said he was sorry for making two holes in your lab and he would help with any repairs which you waved off. Honestly you didn't really care it was a temporary lab, if it had been the one upstairs? Well you'd be kicking ass. He also got upset he was worried that he'd lost control like that. He admitted he wanted to kill Tony, for the first time in his life his temper had gotten the best of him and it frightened him. He nearly killed out of vengeance. An eye for an eye, you carve out mine? I'll carve out yours. That wasn't usually him and it got to him. He said he just couldn't get past the rage, you'd been hit and he just saw red. You'd managed to talk him down help him through the nasty guilt and all the 'could have been’s' explaining that it was normal to be angry about it but nothing had happened so there wasn't nothing to feel guilty about. After a few days of reassurance from the whole team you were happy to announce he seemed to let it go. You did to it was weird but after everything that happened you felt better for it. Like the week with Tony and final argument had been closure? Everything you'd wanted to say had finally been said and you were right thats why he hit you. It was to close to home, to raw. The truth hurts. You laid back on the bed Clark wrapped around you he was sleeping soundly for once tucking you tight against him.  You moved stretching eyeing your new ring. It was just over a month after the incident Clark had popped the question apparently the week with you working with Tony had incited fears of you leaving, he thought you'd run of with Tony. Idiot. He couldn't stop them so had decided to take the plunge. Apparently the League all knew and were asking him each time they saw him if he found the ring yet after two solid weeks of excitement and Barry nearly blabbing twice.  Bruce put his foot down and had Clark and the two boys go see a jewellery. They wasn't allowed to talk numbers just design a ring. Konner and Jon had helped him find a design it and three weeks later It was done a white gold diamond Cartier custom engagement ring. And to tell the truth Clark hadn't been that romantic he asked during sex. Oh yes your boyfriend had asked you to marry him in the middle of rawing you ,he'd done the unthinkable growling out through his brutal thrusts that 'for once I want to be selfish and take what I want' you didn't understand what he meant...You couldn't really think past the cock you were being impaled on he had crouched over your withering form for head on yours and asked...Well not really he just panted 'be mine!' You grunted and must have answered him during another orgasm because next thing you know you'd come down from your high panting and there was a Stunning ring on your finger. Apparently that was his round about way of asking you to marry him. He was unbelievable in the best way you wasn't even mad at him you couldn't when he had explained blushing it was his way of making sure you said yes and there was no take back's. The wedding was in a few months Bruce was adamant that you have everything you want a fairy tale wedding surprisingly the Big bad bat of Gotham was a soft touch. You giggled snuggling deeper into Clark's chest taking a deep breath as he pulled you tighter cradleing you to him in his sleep. You were finally happy and free to be yourself. Your life had changed dramatically but you wouldn't have it any other way. You thought getting your job here was the start of your life. But no this was right here in the arms of your fiancé looking to the future. This was your new beginning.

[light-yaers]

No Saints: Chapter Five

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 4.7k

Chapter Five

You know that sleepiness, the kind that seeps into your bones and makes you weigh a thousand pounds, that makes it impossible to get up and to acknowledge what’s going on around you without more than a grunt of affirmation? That’s what you had, as soon as you felt him slide on the floor next to you.

The time? You couldn’t say. All you were experiencing was the best nights’ sleep you’d had in several years on this god forsaken planet, even if you were sleeping on the cold, metal hull of the Razor Crest. You felt the warmth of his skin first, only groaning slightly as he managed to lie down on the floor next to you.

Instinctively, you covered a portion of blanket over him, eyes still half closed and brain almost still in a deep sleep. He accepted it silently, slotting his body next to your own. You heard the unmistakable clink of his helmet upon the floor, and then—he was out.

Both of you were, immediately drifting back to sleep in each other’s embrace, without the tension or the awkwardness or anything that came with you and Mando slowly experiencing intimacy again.

You dreamt of him, or maybe you dream of both of you. It was a blur of Beskar and tight muscles, of his sweat gleamed chest, of his rough and comforting hands upon every part of your body. You were in the shop, or on his ship, or in some unknown location that you barely noticed, all because you were staring at him, and only him. Your dream-self gasped as he raised two hands to his helmet, tugging off the Beskar until you were about to see his face—

And then it switched. There was a crash, a bang, and the heat of a thousand engines firing at once as you were thrown backwards. You couldn’t see Mando, you couldn’t see anything, but you felt the pitter patter of your heart, and you knew—

They’d found you.

When you opened your eyes, your entire body buzzed. You were still on the floor of the Razor Crest, tucked up against Mando as he lay next to you, but stars—you were fucking terrified. You tried to breathe, to release the unneeded anxiety and tension from what your subconscious had just drilled into a perfect dream, but it was almost impossible. You were shivering, your entire body shaking and throbbing in pain, begging for comfort and relief.

“Nightmare?” He croaked next to you. You looked up at his visor, noticing the downward angle of his helmet focused on your face.

“It’s nothing,” You breathed out in response. As much as you wanted to overflow, to tell him everything, it would only serve to make things a hundred times more complicated.

“I get them. Sometimes,” He admitted, revealing yet another vulnerability of his. He was human, you knew that. He had those same fears, those same desires and feelings. It warmed your heart knowing that he was comfortable to open up to you, to lie next to you, to hold you against his bare chest.

You took a moment to indulge, as your eyes scanned the soft skin of his chest in front of you. Untouched, unscathed, his collarbones protruding sharply beneath his neck and stretching out to curve by his shoulders. His pectorals were defined and hard from years of training. You were struck with the want to bite into one without hesitation, but you stopped yourself from the embarrassment.

Tentatively, you coiled your fingers out from under the blanket, settling your hand slowly upon his chest and just holding it there, allowing him to get used to the sensation of your touch upon his bare skin, without the imminent doom of blood loss. He inhaled sharply, which only made him flinch in pain at his stab wound. You retracted your hand immediately, getting flustered at his response, but he grabbed it—

And he placed it back on his chest, holding you for a few seconds before he placed his hand by his side once again.

“You shouldn’t have moved from the bed last night,” You whispered out, hesitantly flittering your fingers over his pectorals. He was breathing harshly, feverishly, showing his strain at trying to stay in control of his desires.

“I don’t care,” He replied, hunger present in his voice. You tried not to squirm, as you felt an unmistakable throb from between your legs. You swiped your hand upwards, smoothing your fingers over his collarbone and the small dip underneath his neck.

He shuddered at your touch, making you blush significantly. Mando had an immediate effect on you with his words, the touch of his fingers on you, but now it was his turn. You’d wanted to do this for some time; feel him, feel him quiver at your touch, feel him melt into your grip as your fingers traced his skin.

When your fingers walked their way up to his neck, his arm shot out to you in an instant. He angled himself into you, face to face, touch to touch, as his fingers dug into your waist ferociously. In that moment, he didn’t seem concerned about his wound or the definite pain he was experiencing—all he felt was you.

“If you like my fingers, just wait until I kiss you on these spots, one day,” You whispered, stretching yourself out as another wave of pleasure flooded through your body. Mando’s hand didn’t wait to explore, as it trickled down your hips, your thigh, finding the nook behind your knee.

You gasped as he raised your leg to drape over his lower half, wrapping around his hips and making sure that you felt him—achingly hard beneath his trousers and the Beskar plates that still lined his legs. As much as you wanted this, wanted to unbutton his waistband and hold him in your hand firmly, you were all too aware of the wound that sat far too close to his groin.

“Mando,” You whispered in slight disappointment. “We can’t—not with your wound,” He didn’t make a sound, opting only to keep trickling his fingers up and down the curve of your thigh, skimming the bottom of your ass temptingly, before repeating the rhythm over and over again.

“I know,” He growled out. “But you should know. As soon as I’m healed, this—,” Stars—he moved his hand at light speed to between your legs, cupping his palm over your pussy entirely. You fucking lost it—you squirmed, you squealed, you held in your breath as every fibre of your being, every limb, every hair, tensed up at his touch. It only served to make your clit throb uncontrollably; it was something that he could definitely feel.

Stars— he wasn’t even doing anything—he’d just placed his hand over you, no movements, no circular motions over the top of your clothes, and this was how you felt? The tension was killing you. You wanted him, you wanted his cock in your hand, your mouth, your achingly desperate pussy; stars, you wanted to feel every inch of him.

“This is the first place I’ll be visiting,” Fuck—stars. You actually let out a whimper, involuntarily allowing him to see you unwind at his very welcome proposition. You could burst just from imagining him down there, between your legs, using his skilful hands for something other than collecting quarries or firing his blaster.

You were utterly broken, not even noticing that you’d been digging your fingernails into the soft skin of Mando’s neck. You removed your hand, noticing the subtle crescent shapes that you’d indented into his skin.

It took all of your strength not to shake, as you pushed yourself further into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slowly, delicately, frustratingly, fluttering your lips over the marks you’d pressed into him.

The moan Mando let out was not one of pain, but of immense fucking pleasure. His entire body tensed, prompting his grip on your pussy to tighten. You moaned into his ear agonisingly, ignoring the way your thighs had started to tremble at his touch, as you continued to work your lips over his skin. You kissed him gently, until your nail marks were gone, and when they’d disappeared you moved down—

You worked your way over his collarbones, swiping your tongue over them until he was putty in your hands. You kissed his pectorals, nipping at his skin to satisfy your immense want to bite into them like apples. Goosebumps appeared all over his chest, his arms, as his body succumbed to your prolonged affection.

He was fucking radiating heat. You could see the drops of sweat as they appeared on his skin, as his cock continued to throb faster and faster beneath the sanctuary of your upper thigh.

When you finally reached the last of his uncovered chest, before the gauze covered his stomach, he grew wildly impatient. Without warning, his hand started to rub between your legs—and stars—

“Fuck—fuck, Man—Mando—,” You shuddered, letting out pleas and begs without realising what the fuck you were saying, but he didn’t stop. He only kept going, indulging in the glorious way your body flinched and stuttered and burst out his name at moments when you were sure you were about to cum beneath your clothes.

“Tell me,” He said, continuing his fucking hypnotising touch over your pussy, but only now starting to focus more on where your clit was. This man was a wizard—he found it incredibly fast, feeling you in depth and noticing the way the breath caught in your throat at his repetitive rubbing movements when he skimmed past your clit each time, figuring out that that was where he’d fully make you come undone. “Tell me if you want me to stop,”

Stop? Stars—why the fuck would you want him to stop?

“Don’t stop—,” You burst out, and before you had time to react, he’d hoisted himself to peer down at you. His chest fit snuggly between your legs as they wrapped around him securely, his hand still very much content feeling you over your clothes.

You knew what you looked like—red blush covering your cheeks, only indicating the severe pleasure that you were biting down on your tongue to contain. You were still fully dressed, but he didn’t fucking care; he was only looking at your face, ignoring the new stitches on his stomach and working only towards this satisfaction.

Stars, is this what he’d look like fucking you? Stifling moans beneath his helmet as his hand worked tirelessly to pleasure you, to find your clit, to begin circular motions that he evidently had done before. You wanted to ask him how the fuck he’d learned this—how someone as private and merciless as him had gone about satisfying his cravings over the years.

Your hands found his waistband, tugging him forward ferociously, so his cock laid flush against you. Stars—you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted to scream, scream for him to strip you off and fuck you unapologetically, filling you to bursting and hearing your name flutter from his lips in longing.

“I wish I could kiss you, Mando,” You whispered out quickly, as the pleasure pumped through your blood and made you stupid. Feverish, squirming, wanting to slam your lips against his own while he got close to making you cum. Stars, that’s all you wanted. Even if it meant you closed your eyes, even if it meant he fucked you in the dark; you wanted his lips available to you at all times.

“After last night, I—,” He groaned deliciously. “I wanted the same thing,” God, you loved it when he talked. When he opened up to you like this, without one-word answers, allowing the hunger and want and cravings in his voice to ring true. You wanted Mando to keep fucking talking and never stop. “I wanted to bite that lip on your smart mouth. I wanted to see the blush take over your entire body,”

Stars—you were close. Your squirming increased tenfold, trying desperately to angle your body away from his touches at the overstimulating sensation, after so long untouched, but all that Mando did was go harder and faster. Speeding up his movements, savouring the look on your face as your eyes began to roll back in your head involuntarily.

“K-Keep talking,” You gripped onto his arms for stability, feeling the aggressive contractions of his biceps while he worked to make you fucking crumble. He leaned in closer, tightening his jaw through the obvious pain in his wound, as he gently placed his helmet against your forehead. You looked up into his visor, trying desperately to find his eyes, like you always did.

“Tell me, are you close?” He asked, trickling his deliciously aroused voice into your ears. You bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing, nodding at him innocently as his patterns on your pussy didn’t cease. “Good girl,” Oh stars—fucking bastard. A warmth appeared in your belly, and you knew, it would be mere seconds before you couldn’t hold it any longer.

You let out a pained curse, feeling your heart rate accelerate beneath your ribs. The sensation in your pussy was rising, tensing your entire body as you began to slip over the edge. “Mando—fuck, I’m going— I’m going to—,”

“Cum for me,” Was all he said, speeding up his pace over your clit. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as your entire body screamed out for relief, for this release, to cum from his hands—

That’s when a small figure appeared in your peripheral; green, hairy, with huge eyes. Instead of a scream of pleasure, you screamed in surprise. Mando immediately retracted his grip from you, jumping up from the floor and just standing there—

Glaring at the kid with insatiable anger.

The kid looked to his father innocently, unaware of what the hell was going on. You stayed on the ground, snapping your legs shut immediately and covering yourself with the blanket in a rush. Embarrassment replaced the pleasure over your cheeks, as your entire body lost all sense of arousal in a matter of moments.

Mando stepped forward, picking up the kid with an annoyed huff. “What did I say about letting yourself out of the cubby?” His voice was stern, scolding the kid for effectively leaving his room—for fully cockblocking him. He trudged the kid back to the cubby, placing him inside and raising a finger in front of his face. “Stay. Five minutes, then you can come out,” The kid let out an innocent blub, before Mando closed up the hatch of the cubby.

Silence.

Oh, stars, it was fucking awkward.

You buried your head in the blanket, trying not to squirm from the awkward tension that had travelled throughout the Razor Crest as soon as the kid had showed up. You could sense Mando, standing over you, just looking as you wallowed in this situation. You forced yourself to look up at him, blanket still covering most of you, only revealing your eyes as they flicked around to find his visor—

And then you fucking laughed. You burst out with giggles that you couldn’t control, having to bring a hand over your mouth to stop you from yelling at the comedy of what the hell just fucking happened. Mando’s fingers twitched, but you saw the rise and fall of his shoulders, following your lead.

You were crying real tears by the time you finally calmed down, wiping your hands over his face as you regained some of your composure.

“So, do I get an explanation, now?” You stuttered out, sitting up and resting your head against the wall of the hull. Mando sat on the medical bed, letting out a final puff of breathy laughter.

“Long version, or short version?” He questioned. It only piqued your interest to a hundred.

“Both,” You replied enthusiastically.

Mando exhaled, preparing himself to speak. He told you all about the kid, the bounty on his head, the masses of hunters outside the kid’s door. He’d rescued the child and got attached, too far removed from his duties to ever actually give him up to the client. You listened intently, hearing the way he spoke about the kid and the adventures they’d had on collections since he’d saved him.

It was enough to warm your heart to oblivion. This stoic hunter, this Mandalorian, had taken in a child willingly.

“You saved him,” You let out, after he was finished speaking. Mando looked towards the shut door of the cubby thoughtfully. “You did a good thing, Mando,”

“Would have saved me a lot of grief if I’d just done my job,” He began, but there was no malice in his voice. He knew he’d made the right decision; both for the kid, and for his conscience. “Had to stay away from Nevarro for a while when it was hot,”

You smiled at him, regarding the way he looked so comfortable. You knew opening up wasn’t exactly second nature to Mando, but he’d done it all the same. He’d delivered an explanation, like he’d said he would.

“I’m glad you came back,” You spoke quietly. Mando tilted his helmet towards you, breathing slowly through the modulator. It was crazy how exposed he could make you feel, despite the fact that he’d been up close and personal with your fucking pussy only minutes before. That unwavering stare, the wonder of what lay beneath: that would always be the main thing that got you about the Mandalorian.

He got up slowly, striding over to the cubby and opening it up. He picked up the kid gently, cradling him in his arms and receiving greetings of several adorable gurgles and squeals. His little green hands found Mando’s helmet, patting them gently against the Beskar with excitement.

“Do you... need to get back yet?” He asked tentatively. In reality, you probably did. You had two order collections to fulfil, but fuck it—they could wait. You shook your head with a smile. Mando knelt to the floor, slowly popping the baby on the blanket next to you. “Can you watch him while I clean up?”

You’d never babysat anything before, let alone a little green monster, with ears that could whip at you by mistake with the turn of his head. He looked at you warily, not yet accustomed to who you were. Children weren’t your strong suit, not one bit, but just knowing that Mando had trusted you enough to look after him while he got himself back in one piece made it all seem okay.

You played with him, speaking to him when he made noises in your direction. “What? What’s that on the wall, huh?” You asked, while he pointed to different parts of the hull. He bobbled around slowly, as the tiny pitter patter of his feet rang throughout the calm ship.

Mando was in the fresher, round the corner from where you sat overseeing the kid. You heard the shower start, filling you with a curious anxiety that you couldn’t shake. He obviously had to take the kit off to shower—was Mando... naked in there? Surely not, not with the gauze still wrapped around his chest.

You hazarded a look at the door of the fresher, spotting the remnants of his leg armour on the floor outside, as well as a wrapped up ball of gauze. You sighed, knowing that showering with stitches immediately after having them done was probably not the best idea, but whatever; it was his home. You weren’t responsible for him.

You turned back to the kid, smiling at him and sticking your arms out for him while he teetered over to where you were sat. He crawled up the blanket, staring at you with his huge eyes the entire time, until he’d reached your lap. You picked him up gently, placing him on your knee snuggly.

But you flinched when you heard the scuff. You flicked your gaze to the fresher door once more, only to see Mando’s bare arm retracting back into the shower, after he’d just placed his helmet outside the door.

Stars—he was naked.

But he was also not wearing his helmet. You shot your gaze back to the kid, when he started getting impatient at your lack of attention towards him. You bounced him on your knee anxiously, trying not to get utterly flustered at the image of Mando’s helmet, sat only meters away from you.

The breath hitched in your throat when you heard the shower stop. Without the splashes of falling water, you heard the gentle pats of Mando’s bare feet on the wet floor, the muffled sounds of a towel rubbing over his body or ruffling through his hair—

His hair. You’d imagined his face before; dark eyes, strong features, sprinkles of stubble on his jaw and above his lip, maybe. You couldn’t imagine him as a blonde, it just didn’t fit Mando. You pictured him as a brunette, warm and deep and awash with oranges and reds amongst the darkness of a mahogany brown. And curls—god, you sort of wished he had curls, but under that helmet they were probably all but flattened.

“Have you got the kid?” His voice echoed from the refresher, making you jump with nerves.

“Yes,” You replied simply.

“Put him in the cubby,” Mando responded. You got up immediately, almost tripping as your feet got tangled in the blanket beneath you. You popped the kid back in the cubby, shooting him an apologetic smile, before shutting the hatch on his slowly dropping ears.

“He’s in the cubby,” You replied, trying not to show the utter anxiety in your voice.

“Okay,” Mando breathed out. “Shut your eyes. Keep them closed, until I say,”

Stars, he was about to walk in front of you without his helmet on.

You clamped your eyes shut, almost as a reflex. Your body pulsed with anticipation, knowing that if you were to slip up, even for a second, you’d see him. It didn’t sit well with you—you knew the Mandalorian’s were devout to their home, to their religion. This was a part that you respected wholeheartedly; you wouldn’t betray Mando like that, not ever.

“I’m not looking,” You breathed out, staying in place by the cubby, frozen to your spot. The doors of the refresher opened up, and out walked Mando. He didn’t put on his helmet first, by the absence of scratching Beskar upon the metal of the hull. Maybe he was pulling on his trousers, or finding a clean shirt to slot over his head, without the trouble of it getting stuck over the helmet.

Either way, you waited. You kept your eyes closed, you kept your mouth shut, but your other senses were dialled to a hundred. The smell of soap floated towards you, alongside the mugginess of steam in the air. It made your skin prickle subtly, as the miniscule rise in temperature from his hot shower filled the usually very cold hull.

Or maybe that heat was just you. It was hard to tell.

You inhaled sharply when you sensed him approach you. Bodies were strange like that; sensing another close to you even without having vision. You gasped when his hands wrapped around your waist gently. He wasn’t wearing his Beskar yet, allowing him to fully press his chest against your own, as his hands trailed up your back, drawing patterns on your spine over your clothes.

You clamped your eyes shut even more so, knowing that he hadn’t said the word yet, hadn’t said it was safe to look. Stars—was he face to face with you? Without the addition of Beskar keep you apart?

“Smart mouth,” He whispered, and stars, he sounded different. His voice was silky smooth, cascading over you and making your legs tremble slightly. There was no modulation, no added mechanical drawl. This was his voice—his real voice. And stars, it was beautiful.

You’d bet that his face was, too.

He pulled you into him, and all of sudden, his lips were upon your own. It was slow to begin with, while he found his footing and got used to this kind of intimacy, but stars—you were dying. You fell into him immediately, still too afraid to place your hands anywhere above his collarbones, but you clutched onto him for dear life.

His lips were soft, plush, pushing up against your own both with a hungry ferocity and also a sweetness that you indulged in. He was savouring this moment, relishing in the fact that he’d got what he’d wanted after last night. Facial hair tickled at your skin, and you ticked off a few elements on your imaginary Mando list—facial hair, that’s a truth.

He slowed his kiss, only to nip at your lower lip and no doubt watch the way the blush spread over your face. You heard him as he let out a subtle, breathy chuckle, cementing that you were definitely the colour of a raspberry. Fuck, you’d let him bite your entire body if he wanted to.

Placing a final, agonisingly gentle, peck on your lips in goodbye, he parted from you as quickly as he’d approached. You exhaled painfully, reaching out to try and keep him close, but the sound of Beskar scratching metal was all that hit you. “You can open your eyes,” His modulated drawl spoke, almost sadly.

You opened your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings once more. Mando stood before you, helmet on and fresh clothes covering his limbs. “You need to put fresh gauze on,” Was all you said, stutteringly so, prompting a huff from beneath his helmet. You were simply trying to draw his attention away from your blisteringly rouge face.

“On it,” He replied, amused. You nodded at him, almost professionally, before you looked away, suddenly all too interested in finding your sewing kit. Stars, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to tell him that your heart was beating so fast that you were sure you’d go into cardiac arrest. You didn’t know how to tell him that that was the safest you’d ever felt in someone else’s embrace.

You found the sewing kit, haphazardly throwing the needle and thread back inside and closing it up quickly, stuffing it back into the pocket of your jacket before you turned back to him. The bastard was leaned back against the hull wall, arms crossed, just looking at how fucking flustered you were.

“If you get stabbed again,” You started, not knowing how else to convey that you thoroughly enjoyed being in his ship with him—and the kid. “You know who to call,”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Mando began, with an air of confidence that he’d never fucking had before, until he’d kissed you on the mouth. He was revelling in the way he’d made you speechless, made you tremble, made you want more. “Even if I’m not critically injured, I know who to call,”

You nodded once, trying to make yourself seem unbothered, but fuck if it actually worked. Mando was soaking you up completely, and stars, there was nothing you could fucking do about it; except suffer.

“Good,” You let out. “I’ll be going,” You added, striding to the ramp and hitting the button sternly. The ramp began to descend, fucking slowly, so you simply had to stand there and wait while Mando’s stare pierced your back, making your neck hairs stand up.

“See you next week,” Mando spoke, just as the ramp touched the ground. You couldn’t speak—stars, why couldn’t you speak? You nodded to the floor, striding out of the Razor Crest as you tried not to fucking implode at your own feelings, about to bubble over. You needed to scream, you needed to shoot your blaster at the firing range until your trigger finger fell off, just to expel the utter bliss you felt.

You were halfway back to the shop when his voice rang out over the communicator—

“That blush,” He spoke, the hint of amusement still on his lips. You furrowed your brows in anger, hating how easily he reduced you to a fumbling mess. This man—this fucking man.

“Shut up, Mando,” You fired back, beginning to huff and puff as you picked up the pace back to the shop.

“Make me,” He growled in response, before he the comms went dead.

Oh. You would.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Honestly

Author: @cellophanerose

For: @more-ofyou-tolove

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina

Rating/Warnings: Rated G. takes place during pre-trial chapter 5 in sdr2, so it contains spoilers, mentions of self-harm/suicide/violence, and angst.  Based only on the game’s canon and differs from the anime on an important point involving Kamukura.

Prompt: What if Hajime found out he was Kamukura before Chapter 6?

Author’s notes: Thanks for the great prompt!! I hope you enjoy it! 

When Hinata opened his eyes, he began to fall.  The plunging sensation turned his stomach inside out, and he strained his eyes trying to make out anything in the total darkness.  He saw nothing, but for some reason, it didn’t make him panic.  In fact, he had trouble feeling anything at all.

All at once, he was in a familiar scene: sitting at a desk surrounded by faceless - pointless - students.  Though their figures weren’t defined, the pressure he felt from them was overwhelming as he started to sweat.  He had to get away, he had to get away, but how?  Hinata was aware of his answer now, and could no longer look away.

His desire to be talented, his all-consuming need to be anything other than himself, led him to the reserve course.  Here, it was supposed to be better - at least, that was the lie he had been fed.  But even as the scene shifted around him and the backgrounds changed, the heavy feeling wasn’t released.  In fact, it seemed to be even worse here, as if the pressure building inside of him was working with its outside equivalent to tear him to shreds.  It was too much, far too much, as a distant yet familiar pain coursed through his head.  For some reason, Hinata knew this is where it should have ended.

But it did not.

Instead, the scene stretched on and on until he was up and running.   He knew, vaguely, that this was a memory and that he was breaking some sort of script, that maybe he was going too far, but the dream wouldn’t end and the pain became too much for him to bear.  The hallway he ran through kept extending, as if offering him more and more chances to turn back.

He did not.

The scene abruptly shifted and at some point, he had stopped running.  Everything was distorted as if someone applied a filter directly to his eyes.  Hinata’s limbs moved on their own, taking up a casual pace.  A terrifying sense of dread filled him, which was at war with the overwhelming feeling of calmness felt by his body.  He caught a glimpse of something out of the window - a curtain of sharp black, but he didn’t have time to contemplate that as his body stopped at a door and reached out to open it.

I have to stop, right now! Please!

His body paid no heed to his mind as he passed through the threshold.  A group of students seated around a table looked up at him as he entered, confusion visible on their features.

Hinata made one final bid to stop whatever this was and threw everything he had into stopping his own body, but it was to no avail.

“Who-” before the student had even started her question, Hinata was moving with lethal certainty and terrifying speed as he ripped though her.  Blood splattered on his clothes as the other students cried out and jumped from their seats.  There was no point though - for whatever reason, Hinata was inhumanly fast and strong as he continued to tear through the other students.  As he took the last student’s life, he felt nothing.  He walked over to the room’s window and only then did Hinata see himself: a grim figure with long black hair and eyes as red as the blood he spilled on his clothes.  A stranger who shared his face.  A brief and light feeling of disappointment flashed through him until he was once again left with nothing.

Hinata shot up from his bed and immediately ran into the bathroom.   What little food he had eaten yesterday threatened to come back up as he hunched and cried over the toilet.  Even when the retching stopped, his whole frame continued shaking with the force of his sobs.

There was no way that was real - logically, it was impossible…so why was guilt pouring out of every nerve of Hinata’s body? Guilt and regret were overflowing, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t make sense of it.

After what had to be at least a half an hour, Hinata stood up on unsteady legs to wash the sweat and tears off of his face.  Every bone in his body ached and the shaking still hadn’t stopped as he turned the faucet on as cold as possible, collecting the water in his hands and throwing it in his face.  He didn’t want to face himself, but he forced himself to look in the mirror to chase away the doubts in his mind.  All the mirror reflected was a drained and sick-looking Hinata, with his normal green eyes and short brown hair.  Hinata felt something akin to relief and made his way back to bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, but couldn’t bring himself to lie down.  Despite his body being exhausted, his head was buzzing with activity.  He curled in on himself, clawing at his biceps and dragging his nails across the length of his arms.  The sting felt good, but it wasn’t enough.  He gripped harder and he tried to chase away the dream by digging his nails into his skin as deep as he could.  He had stopped crying, at least.

…Was he capable of such atrocities?  Hinata didn’t want to think so, but doubt needled his mind. That sort of directionless slaughter he saw could only be done by a monster, and now Hinata wasn’t so sure he wasn’t one.

A lot had happened earlier that day, he reasoned to himself.  He had woken up on the brink of starvation and to another dead friend, learned from Komaeda that he really was just a talentless nobody, and then watched yet another classmate be executed after working through the class trial.

This was Komaeda’s fault, in the end.  Komaeda had gone and unlocked those unpleasant memories of being a reserve course student.  It was easy to be mad at Komaeda, to shift all blame onto him, and Komaeda seemed eager to be contrarian and rude to everyone since learning Hinata’s true nature.  But…if the earlier memories were true, what did that mean for his dream?  What was that dark visage he had seen in the windows of the school?  He was no murderer, or at least he thought.

Wasn’t Komaeda saying something to that extent?  Right before the class trial, Komaeda went off on a seemingly unrelated tangent about some book.

“The story is told from the point-of-view of a high school girl involved in a serial killer mystery…But when you get to the end…Surprise, surprise!  The girl was actually the killer!”

“The protagonist is just a projection of the reader…And this projection turns out to be the killer… Which means…”

“‘The killer you were looking for the whole time was inside of you all along,’ he said,”  Hinata repeated Komeada’s earlier words to himself, shaken by the implications he only now picked up.  He hastily jumped up as a revelation struck him.

“Komaeda said the Hope’s Peak file only contained information about me, and how I was from the Reserve Department, but…what if there was more to it than that?”  From the start, Hinata knew Komaeda wasn’t divulging everything he had learned from clearing the Final Dead Room, but he was too caught up in learning he was a reserve student to question it further.  Now, though…

“I - I need to know…!” Hinata was full of manic energy, as he rushed out the front door, forgoing even putting on his shoes, to go and confront Komaeda.  His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as it became all too clear to him that Komaeda had found something in those files that caused such a shift in his demeanor, and the odds that it pertained to what Hinata had just dreamed were worryingly high.  He didn’t bother to quiet his footfalls - if any of the remaining few classmates heard him, then so be it.  It must have been past 2:00 AM, but Hinata could not bring himself to care as he slammed his fist against Komaeda’s cabin door.  The lights inside the cabin flickered on and he heard Komaeda approaching the door.  There was no turning back now.

The look of disdain was clear on Komaeda’s face when he opened the door, but he appeared awake and alert.

“Really, Hinata-kun, I knew that you lacked any talent, but your added lack of consideration or timing is appalling,” Komaeda sneered, as his eyes raked over Hinata.  “…Are you even aware your arms are bleeding?”  No, in fact, Hinata had completely disregarded anything else besides his current goal, bodily injuries and humiliation included.

“That’s not important,” Hinata urged, “Let me in.”  Komaeda did not look impressed. “Hm, I would say it is important, seeing as how you’re getting blood on everything.”  Those innocuous words hit Hinata with another wave of nausea as he knelt down and held his head in his hands.  Komaeda’s eyes widened and he stood up straight from his casual leaning on the doorframe as he watched Hinata crumble in front of him and take loud, gulping breaths.  Komaeda knew the signs of a panic attack when he saw them, and through the cocktail of feelings he was bottling up at the moment, a bizarre urge to help welled up.

“Get in here,” Komaeda said, as he kneeled down to hoist Hinata back on his feet, keeping in consideration his injured arms.  After placing Hinata unceremoniously on his bed, he grabbed a cup of water and forced it in Hinata’s direction.  It seemed to take a few seconds for Hinata to process this, but after Komaeda coaxed Hinata’s hands out of his hair, Hinata grabbed hold of the cup and began drinking.  No words were exchanged as Komaeda flitted across his room, searching for something to clean and cover Hinata’s arms with.

Hinata kept his eyes trained on Komaeda while he finished his water and set the cup aside, unsure of what to make of the current situation. He had calmed down, somewhat, and was at a loss for how to now approach asking Komaeda for the file.  In his march over here, he imagined demanding the file from Komaeda, letting his anger carry him through his thought-up scenario.  But now, even after some snide remarks, Komaeda was running a wet towel over his arms, wiping off the blood and revealing the angry red marks that were easily identifiable.  

Komaeda kept his touch to a minimum and his mouth shut tight as he grabbed some bandages and began wrapping up Hinata’s arms.  The wounds were clearly self-inflicted…of course learning you have no talent would be devastating, but had it really driven Hinata to panic and hurt himself? Or…

When Komaeda finished his bandaging, Hinata avoided eye contact when he mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’, which Komaeda responded to with a quick nod.  Unsaid things hung heavily between the two of them.  The energy that carried Hinata over here was long gone, but his desire hadn’t changed.  Finally, he spoke up.

“I need to see my student profile, Komaeda.”  ‘Ah, so it is about being a reserve,’ Komaeda thought bitterly.

“Do you truly distrust me that much, Hinata-kun?  Or do you need to see it in black and white to face the truth?  Like I said, that’s all there was to it.  Just the fact that you are talentless and desperate to be accepted by Hope’s Peak..” Komaeda wanted to be resentful, but he couldn’t muster up much anger in the face of Hinata looking so small.

“There’s more, isn’t there?!”  There wasn’t any desperation in Hinata’s voice like Komaeda had expected.  All he heard was agony.   Komaeda watched as angry tears welled up in Hinata’s eyes, threatening to overflow, causing Komaeda’s own eyes to prickle.  “What did I do…?” Hinata whispered, most likely to himself.  There was something happening behind the scenes that Komaeda couldn’t see, and it scared him.

“Why are you here, Hinata-kun?”  They both knew that Komaeda was asking a different question, but neither of them acknowledged it.   Hinata didn’t answer him, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead.  Just when Komaeda was ready to call out to him, he spoke up.

“You know that book you were talking about?”  Hinata’s voice was surprisingly steady, as if he wasn’t fully there at the moment.  Both the words and the tone caught Komaeda off-guard.  “The one about the serial killer.”  As if Hinata had to specify.  Komaeda held his breath, knowing that whatever happened next was out of his control - he had simply poured gasoline near a fire ready to ignite.  “Were the girl and the killer really the same person?  Did she truly just…forget?”

Hinata’s cold stare landed squarely on Komaeda, eyes flickering with something intangible.  It caused a shiver to run down his spine.  “Or is it more accurate to say the girl we knew never existed?”  Komaeda was pinned in place just from Hinata’s deadly glare - not that he would go anywhere, but the lack of control frightened him.  He knew he had to choose his words carefully.

Unfortunately, it was easier said than done.

“Does it matter, in the end?  Memories or not, a killer is a killer, right, Hinata-kun?”  They were all Ultimate Despair - it didn’t matter how they got there, or that they didn’t remember it.  Whatever Hinata had remembered, or thought he remembered, changed nothing.  It’s unforgivable.  Unforgivable, especially for you, who was supposed to be the Ultimate Hope..!

“Of course it matters!” Hinata rose to his feet in anger.  “How am I supposed to know who I am if it doesn’t? The person I see…he isn’t me. Am I…Am I…?”  Hinata gasped and held his throbbing head as angry tears started cascading down his face.

Did Hinata know?  What Hope’s Peak had done to him?

“His name - my name - was…”  The embers licked at both of their feet.  All that was left was to burn.

“Izuru Kamukura.”

With those two words, the flames erupted to life around them.   Komaeda’s heart beat hard against his chest, as if trying to escape the inferno.  He held his breath, uncertain if there was any air left in the room.

“But I’m not him…! Right? Komaeda?!  Am I the lie, or is he?!”  With dizzying speed, Hinata was in front of him, hands latched onto Komaeda’s arms.  “Would I even want to exist if that…that thing was really me?”  Desperate for an anchor, he leaned his body against Komaeda until Komaeda was forced to put his arms around his waist so they wouldn’t fall.

But if we could fall together, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

“So you have to tell me,” Hinata’s voice rumbled against Komaeda’s shoulder.  The entire situation was completely overwhelming, both mentally and physically.  Komaeda had never been this close to anyone.   He felt needed - something he couldn’t remember happening before, and that heady sensation may be why the tight grip on his façade had loosened, even for himself.

He couldn’t bring himself to hate Hinata, no matter how much he tried.  The Hinata he knew didn’t deserve even a fraction of what Komaeda was currently facing alone.  Komaeda was willing to put his life down for the sake of hope, and despised despair with every fraction of his being.  This was a fact.  Komaeda was also in love with Hinata - well-meaning, hapless Hinata who admired hope, was strong in so many ways Komaeda wasn’t, and was loved by everyone.  This was also a fact.   These two conflicting truths warred in his mind constantly since he learned their shared history.  Lashing out at everyone, especially Hinata, felt good, or at least he had originally thought.  Now though, seeing Hinata so hurt that he would go to even Komaeda for resolution, he felt a strong pang of regret.  Would any of this have happened if he didn’t reveal anything about the student files?  Would he still have torn up his own arms?  Even now, Komaeda was hurting Hinata, by not telling him the full truth, by letting Hinata be held by someone who would betray him, who would die.  His next words fell out of his mouth without his permission.

“I’ll tell you what I know about him.  Call it a farewell present, to the you I…” ‘Thought I knew’? ‘Loved’?  It didn’t matter. Komaeda did not let himself fall further than he already had.  Hinata’s face was still buried in Komaeda’s shoulder, but the grip he had on Komaeda’s biceps tightened, signalling that Komaeda had his attention.

“Like I told you, you were just a reserve course student, completely ordinary with no stand-out traits. Maybe it was that complete lack of any semblance of talent that made them choose you - or maybe it was just luck.”  Komaeda poured all of his strength into keeping his voice steady and even, to reveal as little as possible, but even he had to scoff at the phrase ‘just luck’.  “In any case, you were chosen for an experimental procedure which would theoretically implant talent into you.  You would have every talent the school had ever seen, truly someone worthy of being Ultimate Hope.”  Komaeda paused to imagine it, and to steel himself for the next part.

“However, instead of becoming a beacon of hope, Kamukura was just as bad as the others.  Ah, but I’m no better, either…”  Komaeda didn’t feel the need to specify who the others were or what that meant.  He had a feeling Hinata wouldn’t care once he heard what came next.  “The file said there wasn’t a trace of Hajime Hinata left in him.  Whether it was intentional or not I don’t know, but you no longer existed.”  Komaeda heard Hinata’s sharp intake of breath and felt him stiffen.  “And that’s where it ended.”  Komaeda may have been feeling sentimental, but to say anything more than that would put his plans in severe jeopardy.  He couldn’t risk Hinata knowing the whole truth and piecing together Komaeda’s intentions.  None of this mattered in the end, he told himself, even if the thought caused his grip on Hinata to tighten.  They stood in their awkward embrace for a while, before Hinata finally regained some composure and took a step back.  He didn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed.  Instead, he felt as if a chasm had opened up and was ready to swallow him whole.  After he was able to convince himself that he wasn’t going to disappear, he forced himself to ask Komaeda something he couldn’t possibly know the answer to.

“Then…who am I?”  Hinata let out an empty laugh.  “You said that I stopped existing, but that’s a lie, right? Right now, everything feels too real, and I can’t deny that what I feel is real, too.  Maybe I’m in hell for killing all of those people…maybe that’s how a ghost can mistake himself for a human.  There isn’t a single thing about me that was ever real, is there?”  Hinata’s mind and mouth were both wandering, looking for a truth to latch onto.  “In the end, I must just be a well-made lie.”  And isn’t that depressing?  Being a lie who had forgotten along the way that he was a cheap imitation of something that may have once existed - being something fake, yet still forced to feel this all-real pain.

“You’re wrong.”  Hinata jolted at the fierceness with which Komaeda said those two words.  Some color came back into his sight, and for once, he felt something other than dread pounding in his heart.

“To me, you’ll always be Hajime Hinata.  You exist as you are now, whether you like it or not.  Maybe to anyone else you aren’t real, but you are to me.”  Hinata looked at him owlishly, and Komaeda’s blood immediately drained from his face.  That was too much. “ A-A talentless reserve like yourself isn’t allowed to decide if he’s real or not.  Quit acting so presumptuous, forcing your worldview onto everyone else.”  He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, as well.  This is ridiculous. Komaeda was now looking everywhere but Hinata, willing his heart to quit beating so fast.  It almost worked, too, until he heard a muffled sob coming from Hinata.

His eyes locked back onto him, who was covering his mouth with one hand while using his other to blindly feel behind him for the bed and, without fanfare, crashed into it. His hand fell from his mouth, releasing with it the sound of unhinged laughter.  His face was contorted into a hysterical grin and tears were once again gathering in his eyes.  Komaeda had no idea how to deal with this, so he didn’t.  He wasn’t sure his voice would reach Hinata like this, anyways.

“Of course you would say something like that,” Hinata said breathlessly as the laughter died down.  Hinata looked at Komaeda - truly looked at him for perhaps the first time, without being blinded by admiration or hurt or betrayal, and felt a slurry of emotions, but above all, a connection.  A desire to get closer.  A hope that, maybe someday, when everything was over…

Things clicked into place for Hinata while on the other hand Komaeda was absolutely baffled.  He gets the distinct feeling that he’d been caught somehow, though.  He certainly felt transparent - so transparent, in fact, that unless he stopped this now, Hinata would see through to his desires and try to stop him.  What’s worse is that Komaeda was sure Hinata wouldn’t have to try all that hard to convince him to want to live, and that thought was frightening.  His mind flashed back to hospitals and diagnoses that served as death sentences.  He cannot - will not - cling desperately to a life that will soon be over when he could at least use his death in a meaningful way.

While Komaeda stewed in his own thoughts, Hinata began reaching out to grab his hand when suddenly the gravity of the situation hit him like a brick house.  He just let Komaeda comfort him, and that comfort caused Hinata to see things that weren’t there.  He came to Komaeda to get answers about himself because he knew Komaeda wasn’t telling him the whole truth.  Who’s to say he wasn’t hiding more?   The feeling welling up inside Hinata was far too dangerous, and he snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned.  He had felt so sure, but the doubts still started creeping in.  Komaeda caught the motion as he stared at Hinata, hurt and relief warring in his mind.  Hinata stood up suddenly, eyes glued to the floor.  He needed to get out, he had too much on his mind, he can’t deal with this-

“I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“…Me neither.”

What appeared to be an agreement masked the multiple layers of misunderstanding and fear, but they were both stubborn and scared, so they let it fall.  Hinata took a shuddering breath and walked to the door.  It hurt too much to face Komaeda as he said, “Thanks for everything.”  He heard Komaeda hum in response, but couldn’t see the despair swirling in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Hinata-kun.”  And, without another word, the night ended.

Days later, when Hinata is crouched beside Komaeda’s corpse, he thinks, ‘Ah, so this really is hell.’

“Goodbye, Komaeda.”

[luckhound]

— shelter from the storm.

pairing.  reko/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst, hurt/comfort

description.  after the events that transpired in the room of lies, reko is reeling. so are you. the two of you find solace in each other.

warnings.  spoilers for chapter 2, part 1 and 2. mentions/discussions of death.

note.  this is my first piece of writing for this series; hopefully it doesn’t disappoint! reko might be ooc, but i figured it kinda made sense, given what happens 💀💀 inspiration taken from these prompts.

You find her in the monitor room.

You aren’t surprised. Her room had been the first place you’d gone to check on her, then the lobby. When you hadn’t seen her in either area, you just knew that’s where she’d be.

Reko stands in front of the monitors. Her back is to you, so you don’t know what expression she’s sporting. You don’t need to see her to know that it must be the same blank face she’d sported once she stepped into the medical center, Nao at her side.

You consider leaving her be. Maybe she wants to grieve alone. But you’ve come this far.

You take careful steps into the room. She doesn’t move to look at you, not noticing you’re there or perhaps not caring.

“Are you thinking of doing it?” you ask softly. There’s no need to elaborate on what you mean.

Reko heaves a sigh. “I considered it,” she admits. “Found myself in here before I even realized where I was going. But...it’s just a machine.” A hollow laugh leaves her. “I know that, and yet...if I saw him on that screen...I wouldn’t have Nao’s strength.”

She falls silent. You stare at her back, at the hands hanging limp at her sides. Since you haven’t been told to leave, you approach her. Now you’re beside her, your shoulder inches from hers. Close, though not touching.

You look out at the monitors. Two are smashed to pieces, but the others are intact. You’re reminded of Mishima’s AI staring out at you, no recognition in his eyes as he met your gaze. You find yourself relieved that there isn’t a monitor for you; as frightening as the prospect of your death is, being immortalized as an AI is a horror of its own.

You glance over at Reko.

(Even now, you’re struck by how different she looks without her makeup. Her face is bare. Vulnerable. It’s strange, seeing as how you’d never once thought of her as vulnerable. Not until...)

She’s still facing the monitors, but her gaze is distant. Faraway.

Three hours. That’s all the time you have until the second Main Game. Then the horror begins anew. If there’s one person you want to spend that time with, it’s Reko. You try not to think hard about why that is.

You hesitate, then reach out for her hand. It trembles in your grasp, however she doesn’t pull away. Her skin is cold to the touch.

“We should...try to rest up while we can,” you say. “Come with me?”

Reko doesn’t respond. Then her chin dips in a slow nod.

You keep a hold of her hand as you guide her out of the monitor room. You don’t need to, you know, but you don’t even contemplate pulling away. Reko allows you to, her fingers curled loosely over the back of your hand. You hope the contact is as reassuring for her as it is for you.

You aren’t sure where you’re leading her. As you walk out of the monitor room and cross the lobby, though, your destination becomes clear.

Reko doesn’t protest when you enter your bedroom. You stop only once you’re inside, the door closed behind the two of you. You face her, your joined hands dangling between you.

All of a sudden, you're struck with shyness. You fidget, resting your weight on one leg then the other. “Is, uh...this okay?” you ask awkwardly.

Her mouth twitches upward in the ghost of a smile. “A bit late to ask that, don’t you think?”

Before you can stammer through another response, she sits down on the bed. The stress of the past couple hours finally shows in the way all tension leaves her limbs. You go to pull your hand back, give her room to lie down if she wants, only for Reko’s grip to tighten.

You look over at her, but she doesn’t meet your gaze. “Can we just...stay like this? For a bit?”

“Y-Yeah.” You take a seat beside her on the bed. It’s then that you realize just how tired you are.

(You’d been beside yourself during the ordeal with Gin and Q-taro, unable to do anything except watch from the sidelines. In the end, you just offered advice that hadn’t amounted to much. It feels like that’s all you’ve done, since the moment you first woke up to this nightmare.

That, and watched helplessly as people died in front of you.)

“Do you mind if we...?” Words are failing you right now, so you lean back, with only your elbow on the mattress keeping you upright. You hope your intention is obvious.

Thankfully, Reko nods, leaning back as well. As one, you both recline on your backs and stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom. Your hands, still clasped together, rest between your bodies.

You should say something. Kind words, like Nao might offer, or a rousing speech, like the ones Sara is so good at. But your mind is blank. I’m sorry for your loss feels laughably inappropriate in this situation.

So you squeeze Reko’s hand, wishing it was enough to convey everything you feel.

A moment passes. Then she squeezes back.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of your breathing. You close your eyes and focus on that, emptying your mind of all doubt and fear.

The both of you are still breathing. Despite everything, you’re still breathing.

Come what may in the next three hours, at least you have that.

[thesolitarystripe]

Any World of Warcraft Fans?

This is a scene I have been sitting on for, forever. Well, since last expansion. I write a lot of lore about my guild and original character in the game World of Warcraft. While I do not own any of Blizzard Entertainment’s characters or anything else in the world of Azeroth, Tindyl’s story is absolutely my own. If anyone was curious, I dreamt up this scene while listening to this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7kF4MXXCoA

There is also a second part to this scene that came to mind later on and over a different song so I may write that up next, or at some point. Anyway, this was fun. It’s nice to get away from the writing prompts every once in a while and write something else. If people enjoy the Tindyl series, I have a lot of content written about her that I would be happy to share and elaborate on. Most of these characters have been written about and introduced in all the previous writings I’ve made but they are all based on actual raiders in my guild. Some are still here and some are not. If they weren’t given a name within the story, it is safe to assume they are no longer in my life but they included in the story because sometimes side characters don’t stick around forever. 

If you’re a WoW nerd too, let me know!

Let go.

That insidious voice. It spoke, it wouldn’t stop speaking.

Such a heavy burden you carry. Soon you will be free of it.

Tindyl blinked wildly, as if the words were made of acid, blistering her eyes and eyes as shadows clouded her horizon. Where was she? The voices of her allies seemed so far away. “Tindyl!” That was…who? The archdruid settled her hand against her forehead, knee coming down to the fleshy ground stained a sickening purple with hues of crimson pustules and jagged openings like wounds etched inside flesh. Ny’alotha. The Waking City. Wasn’t that where she was? Tindyl looked at the ground but saw only grass; her hand pressed flat against the blades that were no longer the emerald green of her childhood but black and charred. Swiftly, her head shot up and her skin was painted in streaks of orange. Fire. So much fire. Teldrassil! Tindyl was off her knees and running, the screams of her kin drowning out the whispering that sucked her deeper into madness. The Kaldorei leapt over a fallen branch, the limb blazing upon what was once scared ground. Their home. Two feet turned into four, claws printing in deep against the soot covered ground as the long feline body surged forward.

“An’da!” Tindyl was running toward the fleeting shadow of a male night elf. The large figure shapeshifted from elf to bear. Her father, it had to be. She could see him in the distance, tossing others over his hulking shoulders and carrying them out of the flames that engulfed their home. The smoke was suffocating, she choked on its thick plumes but didn’t dare slow her pace as she ran after her father—she had not seen him in…She had not seen him since Teldrassil fell. Tindyl stopped, body transfiguring again until she was whole and back upon two legs. A night elf. “An’da,” her voice was softer, weary eyes following the shade of her father who never looked back. She had lost him already. This was not reality.

All alone in the depths…

That voice. Tindyl covered her ears, grit her teeth and shook her head, eyes falling closed against the deceit spread before her. These visions were not her own, her father was already dead.

“Tindyl!” The night elf opened her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. The world had returned, her present moment. The images of Teldrassil, the fallen, the smoke and blood, vanished. She knew that voice. Tindyl turned her head and saw her dearest friend, the pandaren’s hand was outstretched as if the physical contact would solidify her friend in time and space. They just needed to touch. All around them the eyes of The Corruptor sprouted out of the ground, shrieking and hideous. Tindyl’s eyes swept the battlefield, taking account of her people and those that still stood. Her guild fought bravely, fighting against their own demons surely as N’zoth infiltrated the quiet corners of their minds. She turned to Kagurah, took a single step before she staggered backward in the face of an enraged ally. Their paladin. He had succumbed to the madness.

“Highlord,” Tindyl held out a hand, but the man was charging toward her with sword drawn. “Forgive me,” she whispered as her hands pushed forward and the winds of their natural word rushed out from her fingertips. The gust knocked the paladin back but only stalled him. Kagurah summoned a totem, seeing the change in their once trusted ally who now sought to see their leader’s blood. Before the totem’s effect could stop the human, a great hammer brimming with light struck Tindyl and brought her, stunned, to her knees.

“Tindyl!” Tindyl knew that voice, even in her weakened state where her limbs would not obey her mind. Her warrior. Eyes flickered over and caught the fading vision of her lover, his black hair whipping around his face as he thrust his sword up and into one of the looming eyes; his shield was held up to block a counter assault as he looked over his shoulder just in time to watch the hammer drop and strike down the Archdruid. Tindyl wished she could have comforted him. The look of worry on his face made her heart sink. That was her last thought as she flopped backward, lying upon the ground where the paladin had stunned her. Everything grew dim, the edges of her vision blurred. There was a vague recognition of Kagurah’s magic swirling about her in attempt to heal but Tindyl was sinking, being swallowed up by the darkness. It was quiet, almost…comforting.

“Tindyl.” A new voice. No, an old voice. “Tindyl.” How much time had passed between Tindyl’s body thumping against the ground to the moment her eyes peeled open, she couldn’t say but when she opened them and the haze began to clear away, she looked up at the ethereal form of her father.

“An’da?” Her voice croaked as if it had been unused for centuries. Her father’s arms slipped beneath hers, seeming to lift her up.

“On your feet,” he commanded gently, his face more tender than Tindyl ever remembered seeing it before. There was so much left unsaid between them after she had chosen to join the Alliance. Bai’len, the Guardian druid set like thick roots in his old ways—he disagreed with her choice and more so, hated her pursuance of healing magics. Tindyl’s lips parted as if to speak but all she could manage was to stare at him, eyes glittering even in the dank lighting of the old god’s lair. “Do you not remember who you are? Where you’ve come from? Your people are with you now.” As her father spoke, Tindyl looked away only for a moment and felt more sets of hands pressing her spine upward, setting her on her feet. She saw the ghostly white fingers that held her up in tandem with the strong arms of her father.

“An’da, I’m sorry.” Tindyl wept silently, tears cascading down her cheeks as the light within her faded.

“My child,” Bai’len’s rough fingers curled around Tindyl’s jaw, dwarfing her. “Stand firm in who you are. Feel the strength of your ancestors restore you. Remember who you are and who you were meant to be, hm?” Tindyl’s brow furrowed as her father looked out to where her allies still fought, even in the wake of her loss. They were covered in blood, some brought to their knees as weapons were knocked from their grasp. N’zoth was slithering into their minds, exposing their grief over the fallen Kaldorei and sinking into their souls. “Save them.” Bai’len looked at Tindyl. “Elune makes no mistakes,” his hand shifted from her jaw to the plump curve of her cheek. “Heal them.” The permission to use her gifts from her father. It was like a door had opened within her heart. Tindyl’s arms flew up above her, eyes searching for the light that beamed down upon her like Elune herself reached down her moonlit tendrils and washed away the corruption from her favored druid’s mind. The peaceful rains of Tranquility fell over their party. Hibikami, once brought to his knee felt the renewal of his ferocity, scraped up his axe and heaved it in one mighty blow. The weapon sliced through the air and planted within the sclera of one of N’zoth’s eyes. The creature wailed and fell. The dwarf laughed, sprinted forward to collect his weapon only to chop down another crying stalk. Kagurah looked to where Tindyl’s body had rested when she felt the rain, it could have only come from their Archdruid.

All the while, Bai’len held his daughter, smiling. Tindyl’s eyes had left the spotlight that Elune shined down upon her, glued now to her father’s face. She wanted to stay in the moment for the rest of her long life. Bai’len looked down at her and their eyes met. They regarded one another for several moments before Tindyl was snatched out of her father’s arms. The druid yelped softly, tumbling across the floor and into the torso of their human priest. A life grip.

“Tindyl, are you alright?” The human was touching her shoulder, but the moment Tindyl righted herself and crawled back on her knees she was looking back toward where her father had held her. Where she’d felt the embrace of her people holding her up. They were all gone. Breath came in short, rapid puffs as she held her gaze longer, hopeful that Bai’len would return. It was nothing more than a fleeting vision sent to her by Elune, perhaps. “Archdruid!”

“I’m fine,” she said suddenly, coming to her senses and feeling the weight of her responsibility. While she grieved upon the ground her guild still fought. A quick swipe at her eyes and she was nodding. “I’m fine,” she said again as she rose to her feet. The priest stood with her; hands latched on to Tindyl’s arm. There was a lull in the fight. Everyone paused and looked to her both with relief and concern. They were taxed. Exceedingly tired. “My friends,” she panted softly, seeing the despair in their eyes. Tindyl shook her head, “do not succumb to the darkness, drown out the whispers of N’zoth. Stand firm in who you are.” The words of her father echoed within the grotesque halls, and she felt emboldened. “Do not forget why you are here, why we fight.” Tindyl bared her canines, “For Azeroth!” A rally of cries reverberated the air, sending a new pulsing energy through their party. Tindyl’s body conformed to the four-legged feline once more, she leapt through the air, claws sinking in to a newly sprouted eye. It shrieked as her fangs sunk into its bulbous head, it bled and wilted to the ground. The cat sprinted alongside Kagurah, rubbing along the Pandaren’s hip once as they exchanged a look. ‘Don’t die on me again.’ Tindyl could hear it now. The cat grinned, a growl wrapped around it before the two dove back into battle.

Back-to-back they fought. Wisps of water flowed up and out as Kagurah spread her healing rain and the leaves of Tindyl’s magic swirled around her allies, mending their wounds. Their third healer, the priest, joined them a glittering ring formed around him and pulsed outward to strengthen and heal their allies. Together, they would save their home. For the Alliance, for the horde, and for all the lives lost throughout the trials of both sides.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Drenched

Summary: Golden Lace. Lacey’s plans to seduce Mr Gold are not at all delayed by the dismal weather. In fact, the rain might just help her along…

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling October random prompt: Taking shelter from the storm

Rated: E

Drenched

It was an absolutely miserable day, especially considering that it was supposed to be the middle of summer and the forecast had been for bright sunshine for the rest of the week. Gold looked out at the rain pouring steadily down from the slate-coloured sky, the rumbling of thunder in the distance promising further deluges before the day was up. 

He wondered where Lacey could have got to. Although anyone looking at her on a day-to-day basis would call her the very epitome of unreliable, she was generally very regular in turning up to work in the pawn shop, mainly because she never wanted to lose a second of needling him. For a moment, a vision of her having slipped in the rain in her ridiculously high heels passed across his mind, but he shook it away, really not wanting to think about something terrible having happened to her. She was annoying, yes, but he would never wish any harm on her. Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. 

Gold would never admit to Lacey, or indeed to anyone, just how much he enjoyed having her around in the shop, but he really did. She was a breath of fresh air, and unlike everyone else in the town, she was not at all scared of him. She gave as good as she got, and it was always nice to have a sparring partner on his level. 

“That witch!”

The pawn shop door was flung open, the wind lending perhaps a little more energy to it than intended, and Lacey scrambled inside, battling against her obviously broken umbrella before giving it up as a bad job and throwing the thing into the street outside. Once the door was finally closed against the storm, she growled at it, eyes narrowed, and Gold had to wonder what had got her so vehement. 

Well, apart from the fact that she was soaked to the skin, hair hanging in tendrils around her head and her dress clinging to her. 

Her white dress. Which had gone very see-through as a result of her drenching, and which was showing Gold without a shadow of a doubt that Lacey was not wearing anything underneath it. 

He managed to drag his gaze away from her, looking very pointedly down at the cash register and pretending to be doing something very important to distract himself from the fact Lacey was very wet and showing off rather a lot more of herself than she probably realised.

Although, that said, Gold had never really been sure when it came to Lacey. There had been several times in the past when their banter and teasing had turned a corner into flirting, and neither of them had been uncomfortable with it. Lacey was certainly beautiful, and it would be a lie to say that he didn’t find her attractive. He’d just never been entirely convinced that it was a good idea to admit that to anyone. Especially not to Lacey. 

“Who’s a witch?” he asked, as conversationally as he could, trying to pull his thoughts in a different and much more chaste direction.

“Fiona Black in her Ferrari. If she were a man I’d say that she was compensating for something; it’s so ostentatious. Anyway, I swear she deliberately splashed me. Look at me! I’m soaked! Even more soaked than I would have been without her intervention!”

Gold really didn’t want to look at her, but somehow, he found his eyes wandering in that direction again. Lacey was wringing out her hair onto the doormat and she didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sudden transparency of her clothing. In fact, as he gave her another almost-involuntary onceover, she grinned. 

“I suppose I should get out of this wet dress,” she said, her voice almost sing-song. “I’d hate to catch cold.”

Gold nodded, waving abstractedly towards the back room. “Help yourself to any of the vintage stock. You can switch on the space heater to dry out your dress.”

“Thank you, Mr Gold.” She blew him a kiss as she went past, already beginning to unfasten the buttons down the front of her dress and peel it away from her skin. Once she was safely ensconced behind the curtain, Gold let out a shaky breath, leaning heavily on the counter. If he could get through the rest of the day, then it would be an utter miracle. At least the weather made it unlikely that they would get much custom, and no one except Lacey would notice his increased distraction.

He swore that she was going to be the death of him, and he still couldn't tell whether that was going to be a good thing or not.

"Hey, Mr Gold." Lacey's voice was still teasing as she called out from the back room. He took a deep breath, determined not to give in to the temptation to go over to the curtain and take a look at what was going on, lest he see something he most definitely liked.

"What?" he asked, teeth gritted against every urge.

"What do you think would suit me best?"

He took another breath. She was definitely doing this on purpose, there could be no doubt about it, and he was determined to beat her at her own game. He would not give in.

He racked his brains, trying to think about what he had in stock at the moment. Clothing was never something that sold well and was not something that he usually came into possession of; old clothes went to Goodwill, not the pawnbroker.

"It's ok," Lacey called again. "I've found something. Not exactly seasonal, but I think it looks good." There was a long pause. "Why don't you come and see?"

"I'm sure you look lovely, Miss French. Now, I believe that you have work to be getting on with."

He heard Lacey's exaggerated sigh. "You know, Mr Gold, you're really no fun at all."

The curtain was pulled back, and Lacey struck up a pose in the doorway. She was wrapped in the heavy throw rug from the cot in the corner of the workroom, its faded folds draped around her in a seductive manner that suggested more skin on show than could actually be seen.

"I know you're not completely oblivious," she said. "I know you try and act all aloof and unaffected, but I know that you're interested." Her eyes gave him a slow once over, lingering on his crotch and the bulge that was becoming apparent there. "What I don't know is why you persist in grinding your teeth and pretending not to see what's right in front of you, instead of giving in and letting us have what we evidently both want."

"I..." Gold didn't really have a response for that. In the back of his rational mind, a mind that was very rapidly being overtaken by not at all rational thoughts, he knew that it was probably something to do with the fact that he didn't believe for a moment that Lacey's attraction towards him could ever be genuine, that someone as vivacious as Lacey could want someone as old and bitter as him.

But here she was, standing in the doorway to the back room, naked but for a blanket, her hips cocked invitingly towards him as one hand reached down into the folds of fabric, disappearing in the direction of her sex.

"I really think you liked what you saw, earlier," she continued, a purr in her voice. "Do you really think that I didn't wear that dress on purpose, knowing that it was raining cats and dogs out there? Naturally, I didn't intend on getting quite so very drenched on the way here, but that just served to speed things up. So…" She stepped away from the curtain, moving towards him, until she was so close that Gold could feel her breath against his lips. "Want to warm me up after my soaking?"

Gold took the plunge, kissing her in response and pushing the blanket off her shoulders, taking in every inch of her body. Lacey smirked, grabbing his tie, and all he could do was let himself be led back into the other room, sinking down onto the cot as Lacey straddled his lap, undoing his tie and tossing it to the floor.

"Skin to skin is the best way, don't you think?"

Gold nodded, running his hands over Lacey’s skin, coming down to grab her ass and then up to her breasts, rolling her nipples under his palms and making her wriggle on top of him.

“I can’t believe it took a rainstorm to get to this,” Lacey murmured. “I should have got splashed by a Ferrari sooner.”

She made quick work of his shirt and waistcoat buttons, diving in for another hungry kiss as she pushed them down off his shoulders, breaking away only to let them get onto the cot properly. It was an ungainly mélange of limbs and hands and lips everywhere: no finesse, only the urgency of a need long-suppressed and finally surrendered to. Lacey certainly knew what she wanted, and it didn’t look like she was going to stop until she got it – and Gold was happy enough to let her have it.

As she shoved his trousers and boxers down his legs, he wondered if this was a good idea; if finally giving into the lust that had been simmering below the surface would make the easy, more-than-occasionally flirtatious relationship they had previously shared awkward, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had always prided himself on his patience, a quality that Lacey almost certainly lacked, but now, that taut string had completely snapped, and it disintegrated altogether when Lacey grabbed his cock, pumping his length a couple of times before grinning down at him. She was in control. She’d always been in control from the moment she’d first stepped into his shop.

Lacey’s purse was on the floor beside the cot and she grabbed it up, rummaging around until she found a condom, then her glorious hands were back, stroking him once more and gently rubbing his tip along her folds, her hips rocking and writhing in rhythm. When she finally sank down onto him, he groaned with the sensation, throwing his head back against the uncomfortable mattress. Above him, Lacey laughed, a low, breathy laugh that betrayed her own loss of self-control. She was only clinging on by her fingertips, and as Gold looked up through heavy eyelids as she rode him like the goddess she was, he saw the moment she came, one hand braced on his stomach as the other rubbed frantically at her clit. There was something so wild and wanton in the image of her – hair rat-tailed and curling around her face, mascara smudged beneath her eyes – and it only took a moment before he followed her over that edge.

The silence in the back room was broken only by their panting. It had not exactly lasted long, but there was such intensity in the release of his tightly pent-up desires that it felt almost like running a marathon.

Lacey let him slip out of her and slumped down onto his chest like a cat, her smirk returning as she came down from her own high.

“Now, aren’t you glad you came out of your denial?” she purred.

Gold nodded. “That was… certainly something.”

Lacey laughed again, going in for another kiss, and Gold just let himself be swept along in her wake. He didn’t know if this would make things awkward between them, and he didn’t know if this would lead to many more pleasurable encounters of the same kind, but for now, he didn’t care. The storm was still raging outside, and it was a while before they had to get back to their usual lives and responsibilities. There was plenty of time for them to take shelter together, and as he rolled Lacey over onto her back, Gold certainly intended to make the most of it.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

“I think you need to lick me clean…” - mob boss!tony starker

Don’t Bother To Resist

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M)  Notes: So - any time I think about a mob boss situation for either of these cats, my mind immediately gets smutty - hope that’s okay!  Warnings: NSFW stuff - Tony is gratuitous in his pleasure giving.  Summary: 

In exchange for keeping Ben’s salary in the family, Peter offers himself up to Tony Stark, weapon’s overlord extraordinaire.  

do the thing, send in all the prompts

Taking control of Stark Industries at 21 was a glorious thing for Tony – his father wasn’t there to berate him and after a couple of sharp words at the first board meeting after taking over, not a single soul could stand in his way. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that the black market was where the money was really at – if he wanted to rule the industry, he needed to do it with an iron fist.

It took him a few years and several cleverly made moves to even make a splash in the illegal weapons circuit. Stark Industries didn’t have the cleanest record, but there were several standing deals with reputable companies that needed to be seen through before the final moves could be made. It wouldn’t do him any good to take anyone else down with him.

He wanted power and that meant making people owe him, not the other way around. The second the opportunity arose, Tony struck out and made a name for SI – the privatization of the company allowing him to dip his toes wherever the hell he wanted.

When things became big time, Tony put together a team of people that were trustworthy and smart enough to understand exactly what kind of business they were dealing with. His childhood friend Happy stood by his side from the get-go, so the place of honor as first in command went to him. Long-time friends Steve and Bucky were proven talents with both their hands and the delicately crafted weapons Tony supplied his men. The rest of the crew changed out frequently and didn’t get close enough for him to even learn their names.

Despite the worsening of public opinion, Tony enjoyed the move his company was making. Try as they might, no public official or police chief could pin him for anything – with Tony’s mind and Jarvis’s abilities to get into records and make them disappear, his file was squeaky clean and anything that could have led back to him no longer existed. Being smarter than everyone else had its perks.

For years, Tony overtook technology companies, privatized them, and dumped whatever money necessary into them to make them a functioning hub for the weapons that were being circulated all over the world – many of the small country wars being fought over access to them. The delightful feeling of ruling settled over him frequently, his ego growing with every dollar made.

Right around the time he turned 40, something unexpected happened. One of his transportation second in commands, Ben Parker, came to him in desperation – the man on his hands and knees after so many years of putting people there.

Cancer was taking him quicker than anyone expected, he had a wife and nephew about to head into college. Said nephew wanted to take Ben’s place to continue providing. It was all a pleasant sob story until Ben flashed a picture of his nephew, the desperate need to put a name to the face ringing a bell in his head the second his brain started to categorize his lovely features.

“He’s 18?” Tony asked, his brain only digesting the fact that a glorious specimen of a person was putting themselves into whatever position Tony decided he wanted him in for the greater good. Despite not trying to think with his dick often, Tony wasn’t going to dismiss the fact that he felt a distinct stirring in his stomach when he thought about the soft cheeks and sharp curls framing brown eyes and a wide smile.

Ben looked taken aback for a second, his eyes widening before he tucked his head, nodding in an affirmative. Tony knew for a fact that Ben Parker wasn’t a dumb man – the simple fact that he took Tony’s words of acceptance spoke of the seriousness of the situation. Like it was a burden, Tony sucked in a deep breath and made everyone in the room wait for the positive reaction they all knew was coming.

“Bring him around, Parker – I want to talk to him myself,” Tony said with finality, his eyes catching Steve’s, the man hefting Ben up off the ground. He saw the twitch in his jaw, the flash of pain that couldn’t be withheld.

“He’s outside, Tony. I’ll bring him in,” Ben remarked, his head hanging ever so slightly, his limbs subconsciously leaning into the supportive touch of Steve’s hands on him – the grip might be tight, but at least something was holding him up.

Tony locked eyes with Steve again, his head tilting. “Bring him in, then,” Tony muttered in agreement. He turned on his heel and made a beeline to the bar against the far wall. Uncapping his favorite whiskey, Tony turned, a mischievous grin on his face. “We’ll want to be alone.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Steve was doing what he was told – the man more than aware that Tony didn’t make statements more than once. He poured himself a couple fingers worth of whiskey into a wide-mouth glass, the need to dull his excitement making him put the alcohol back like it was water. Grimacing, he poured himself another helping and took it with him over to the couch that took up much of the right wall.

The kid’s beauty was even more apparent in person – he walked into the room with his head held high; the projection of courage more than enough to already have Tony interested. He waked further into the room until he noticed Tony – his eyes widened a little at the sight of him.

“Mr. Parker – your uncle failed to mention a first name. What should I call you?” Tony practically purred, his fingers clenching around the glass he let rest casually against his knee. He craved the skin he knew would be soft under his fingertips – yet, patience would be the name of the game in this instance. Tony could tell just by the way he held himself.

Shifting a bit, Ben Parker’s nephew undid the button of the suit jacket he was wearing, his eyes moving from the floor to meet Tony’s for the first time. “I’m Peter, sir. Though, you can call me whatever you want,” the boy, no – Peter – said, the conviction in his voice shocking for the innocent look he portrayed.

Unable to help himself, Tony grinned – the cadence of the kid’s voice had him throwing back the whiskey in his glass, the burn and steady light-headed feeling the alcohol gave him keeping him on the couch. For once, he was grateful for the forced sensibility. The pretty thing before him deserved a little nurturing before Tony practically destroyed him.

----

Tony bid his time, his incorporation of Peter into the work subtle and nowhere near physical right out of the gate. After a little bit of digging, Tony found out that Peter graduated at the top of his class from a math and science based high school – the idea that he’d be able to actually teach him about the gun technology and not just the brute force of the business an appealing one. Nerding out wasn’t a thing that most criminal masterminds got to do – maybe with Peter in tow, he’d get his chance.

With that knowledge in his mind, Tony brought Peter into his personal labs. There wasn’t any escaping the nature of his job, Steve and Bucky stood guard around him at all times, but the detachment of the everyday hustle and bustle made it seem a little less sketchy. Every now and again, Tony found Peter smiling – the look too pure for its own good.

He taught him little things about the basic technology that went into the weapons that were frequently mass distributed – Peter was sharp and saw how the upgrades occurred to the basic system without Tony having to utter a word. If he weren’t already bound and determined to have Peter kneeling before him, the brain Peter possessed would’ve been a big driving factor.

Ben passed away 3 months after Peter started to work for him. With as much respect as possible, Tony attended the funeral and gave Peter as many days as he needed off – his aunt’s grateful look one he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with; Tony was used to people hating him, not being grateful for the basic thing that anyone should do for a family riddled by grief.

It didn’t take long for Peter to come back – if it were possible, he seemed more seasoned and vulnerable than ever. His eyes were hardened by the terrible nature of death. Loss did something to a person, no matter how it happened or how prepared a person might think they really are. Tony watched him attack the work with abandon, and for some reason, that included Tony, too.

Of course, he hadn’t been completely secretive about what he wanted from Peter – some of the touches they shared were most definitely not appropriate for a boss and employee. Tony wanted to set the illusion that Peter had a choice. Though he’d never force him, Tony made a business dynasty out of getting what he wanted – an 18-year-old with big eyes and plump lips wouldn’t be the exception.

The need to force anyone’s hand didn’t come – Tony mentioned a drink in the penthouse and Peter was eagerly accepting, the blush on his face unmistakable. No matter how much Tony alluded to it, Peter’s physical reaction said things louder than words ever could. There was want there, his body couldn’t deny it.

Not one to give many shits about the rules, Tony poured Peter a serving of whiskey when he asked for it. He watched with an edge of entertainment as Peter threw it back, the grimace on his face equal parts cute and enticing. Tony couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Peter he liked – between his projected naivety and the genuine nature of his personality, he figured he couldn’t really go wrong.

Tony wandered into his bedroom without looking back – he didn’t need to check to know that Peter was trailing behind him. Getting into the room, Tony threw his own whiskey back and put the empty glass on his dresser. “Jarvis, put one of my Spotify playlists on,” Tony said, his eyes traveling over Peter who stepped into his space before he could even think to invite him.

The AI knew exactly where his head was at, the random old-rock playlist getting a jump start with a Beatles song he’d long ago written off and forgotten about – the tune perfect to not listen to. Without any more hesitation or worrying about being coy or bidding time, Tony grasped Peter’s hips and tugged him close, surprisingly long arms coming around his neck to narrow the space further.

“This is your one chance to step out. Once I know what you taste like, I know I’m not letting go.” Tony muttered the words as he nosed across the smooth skin of Peter’s face – the softness there sending a shiver down his spine, his nerve endings starting to rapidly come to life. His hands were greedy, the palms of them sliding down until he could grip Peter’s ass completely. The youth that clung to him was obvious everywhere, the leanness of his limbs and the quiet strength of his muscles shouting at him the loudest.

Fingers dug into the hair at the base of his head, Peter digging in there in a way that seemed gentler than it was. “I’m not a delicate flower, Mr. Stark. I want you to ruin me. The whole point is to make sure you don’t let me go,” Peter answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm and challenge and undeniable heat.

Their lips met a moment later, Tony using the leverage his grip afforded him to press their hips together and steal a heated kiss. Finding Peter already hard made him grin, his lips parting in a muted grunt. The excitability of a young adult never failed to make his blood boil with want that seemed uncontrollable – his energy matching Peter’s stride for stride.

In an attempt to move things along from the admittedly hot kisses, Tony stepped back and loosened his tie, the expensive silk undoing under his skilled fingers. His jacket came next and with it, a few buttons of the crisp white shirt he’d been sporting most of the day. Peter stared at him unmoving, he had his eyes glued to Tony’s hands, brown eyes taking in every move that he made.

Soon, he walked Peter back towards the bed, his hands pushing him down without much preamble. “Sit,” Tony ordered, his cock pulsing a little when Peter moved to obey him immediately. Hitting his knees in front of Peter, he peppered kisses across soft cheeks and swollen lips before methodically disrobing him – the younger man still watching hungrily.

It didn’t take him long to get Peter completely naked, the contrast of his mostly clothed attire a thing that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. Peter tugged at his shirt, but Tony ignored the request. His hands gripped Peter’s hips and pinned them in place, the tip of his tongue already moving to lick across the head of a leaky erection. The thrust he held back pulled a chuckle from his lips. “Keep still, Pete,” Tony mumbled, the words spoken into the skin of Peter’s cock, not directly to him.

Tony made quick work of engulfing the tip of Peter’s cock between his lips – he kept his grip loose until most of his length was in his mouth. The pulse against his tongue was insanely satisfying, Tony’s own cock begging for similar attention. Bound and determined to see Peter fall apart as much as possible, Tony started to bob his head, his lips tightening with every pass until Peter bucked up against him, the strength of the thrust more than Tony could hold back.

The sensation of chocking forced Tony to take a deep breath through his mouth – Peter’s cock hitting the back of his throat wasn’t the first time something like that happened. Feeling the drool slip down his chin, Tony pulled back, the strings of spit following him as he wiped across his face. Peeking up through long lashes, Tony kept eye contact with Peter, his fingers wrapping around the spit-soaked cock and stroking ruthlessly.

Peter’s fight to keep control made Tony’s hunger to watch him come undone run a little deeper – he added a flick of his wrist to every upstroke and tightening the grip of his fist. Those brown eyes slamming shut and the slightest stutter of Peter’s hips signaled the start of his orgasm – Tony leaned forward and let the cum spray into his mouth, the salty taste of it on his tongue long enough to be forever engrained in his brain.

Wiping at his face and mouth with one hand, Tony used the other to push Peter’s pliant upper body back. “You just relax – let’s see how quickly your turn around time is,” Tony muttered, his attention already moving to Peter’s long legs that were hanging over the edge of the bed. He settled a little more firmly between them and pushed them open wider with the palm of his hands. The novelty of seeing Peter completely had him looking his fill, Tony’s mouth watering with each new idea that filled his head.

No longer feeling all that patient, Tony ducked his head down and let his tongue trail down the middle of Peter’s balls, the younger man’s hips jerking up against him at the contact. The rush of air leaving Peter’s lips made Tony smile – the movement of his lips brushing the hair of his beard along the sensitive skin and drawing out another long moan.

His own body felt antsy, his cock pressed uncomfortably against the front of his pants, the throbbing length demanding attention. Ignoring it, Tony used his hands to pry Peter’s ass cheeks apart instead – the tips of both pointer fingers running teasingly over his beautifully puckered hole. The need for air hit him suddenly, his eyes widening at the deliciousness of the sight. Sucking in a breath, Tony leaned forward and let his tongue trace the same path his fingers took – the tip stopping to apply the lightest of pressure to the weak part of the muscle.

Tony let his tongue slip a little further in when Peter’s hips pressed up against him again – the impatience of the younger man more than enough to break the grip he held on the band around his control. Hungrily, he dove into the task, one of his hands keeping Peter spread while the other fumbled around until his fingers were once again wrapped around a re-awakening cock. A reckless abandon overtook him for a while, the sloppiness of his explorations more than likely shameful in any other situation.

Long fingers gripped his hair, Peter’s clench and release in perfect tandem with the thrust and brush of Tony’s tongue. Because he liked the way he rode his face, Tony let Peter press him as close as possible, the lack of oxygen secondary to the arousal that coursed through him – his entire body felt like it was about to explode.

Peter must have felt the same way, the hands that were in Tony’s hair trailed down until they were on his shoulders, his grip tight. “You should fuck me now,” Peter said, his matter-of-fact nature both surprising and awe-inspiring all in one go – Tony felt his cock pulse as the words caressed his skin. Tony hoped there’d be a surprise on the inside every time he took Peter apart.

Irritable fingers worked as fast as they could to get enough buttons of his shirt undone to pull it up and over his head – a soft sigh leaving his lips when the cool air of the room collided with his warm skin; it doused the flame a little bit and allowed him to get the rest of his clothes off. Tony wrapped his fingers in a tight fist around his cock when the great relief of his underwear hitting the ground became a reality. The couple of tugs he allowed himself were too much, Tony bit down hard into the meat of his lip to stop himself from tipping over the edge.

Crawling into bed beside Peter, Tony stopped at his bedside table to get lube and a condom – the supplies hitting the mattress without much of a second thought. “Turn onto your side,” Tony mumbled against the skin of Peter’s neck, his cock pressing into the younger man’s side where he rested for another moment. He moved just enough to let Peter turn before pressing flush against him again, his cock sliding into the crook of beautifully pert ass cheeks.

Their height difference gave Tony enough wiggle room to hick up Peter’s leg and still have access to the back of his neck to nibble and kiss as he pleased. Peter reached back and felt around until his fingers were once again tangled in Tony’s hair. “Please fuck me, Mr. Stark – I need it. I really need it – “

The incoherent babbles were like liquid fire coursing over his skin and settling into each of his pores – the burn of them felt in his very core. With that came the need to hurry, so he quickly flipped the cap of the lube open and coated 2 fingers, the tips of them pressing in without hesitation. Peter’s gasp and press back allowed Tony to slip in a little further, his knuckles resting against the soft skin of Pete’s ass easily. He locked his wrist and adjusted his grip until the tip of his fingers were bumping against Pete’s sweet spot.  

“Don’t worry, Pete – I’ll take care of you. Make you cum just from my cock slamming inside of you, and then again with your legs hiked up over my shoulders.” The promise had him replacing his 2 fingers with 3, a sense of urgency rushing him through the process a little. By the time Peter felt relaxed, Tony was humping his hips forward, the occasional pulse of his cock dragging precum against the skin of Peter’s ass where it rested.

Ripping into the condom with his lube slick hand, Tony fumbled it on and down his length, the left-over lube being spread around the latex, the simple touch once again setting him on edge. Tony gripped the base of his cock to stave off the orgasm that wanted to sneak up on him, his fingers instead guiding him until his pulsing tip pressed against Peter’s rim. Without anymore preamble, Tony let his hips thrust forward, his cock finally breaching the tightness of a welcoming and excruciatingly tight hole – “fuck, you’re tight.”

Tony gripped Peter’s hip with the entirety of his hand and let his own settle, the clench of his fingers just distracting enough. He did not wait for either of them to adjust – Tony leaned forward, wrapped his hand more thoroughly in the crook of Peter’s knee, and started to thrust; his pace impatient, the idea of finally having the object of his desire guiding his actions. Peter gripped the hand on his knee, the sounds he was making delightful and filled with undeniable pleasure.

Like he promised, Tony pulled an orgasm from Peter with just the ruthless drag of his cock against a sensitive prostate. He felt driven on by the sound of his hips slamming against Peter’s muscled ass cheeks, the quiver of them sending a continuous pang of throbs down the length of his severely swollen erection. One particularly hard thrust hit Peter’s prostate dead on, his body’s reaction immediate in the way his already tight hole clenched down and surrounded in a grip that was unforgiving.

At the last possible moment, Tony pulled back and withdrew his cock, his hands working quickly to get Peter onto his back - the younger man’s cock still drooling evidence of release, his long legs pliant and easy to get on his shoulders. He got his bearings together and took a deep breath before plunging back in, the grip around him like a tight hug – a warm welcome back to a place that already felt like home.

His fingers gripped the back of Peter’s thighs, the tips of them digging in – momentarily, Tony wondered what the impressions of them would look like on the pale skin when he checked back in later. On their own accord, Tony’s hips started to pull back, the pace of his movements a little slower than before. The tease came from the way Peter clenched around him subconsciously the closer the tip of his cock came to his entrance – like it was unbearable not to have the thickness of Tony’s length filling him up.

The orgasm he’d been staving off for the past however long caught up to him – the sneakiness of it rushing through him before he could head it off again. In a desperate attempt to take Peter with him, Tony wrapped his hand around the younger man’s cock, which was now hard, and gripped it tightly; his arm moved at the same pace of his hips – fast and uncoordinated.

Tony felt Peter get off before he felt the spasm in his hand. His hole clenched so tightly around Tony’s cock that he slammed in one more time and let the rhythmic pulses pull him over. The intensity of it made him shudder; his brain with it just enough to put Peter’s legs back down on the mattress and collapse into the sweaty chest below him.

For a few minutes, Tony laid in the envelope of Peter’s arms – the younger man didn’t hesitate to wrap him up and keep him close. They were sweaty and cum covered, but there was something nice about just letting the haze of an orgasm wash over him naturally – the wave of it hitting a peak and then slowly starting to come back down. Not wanting to rush the process, Tony let his body stay heavy, the stickiness not really bothering him.

When he eventually came to, Tony rolled over and brought Peter with him. Peter’s cum was still splashed over the back of his hand and between his fingers – everywhere he touched, Tony spread it on the unblemished skin. Looking down at himself and then at Peter, Tony got a mischievous look in his eye – his cock already wanting to join the fun again.

“I think you need to lick me clean…” Tony trailed off as he raised his hand in Peter’s direction. The flash of heat in Peter’s eyes drew a moan from him. 

Grinning, Tony let his fingers slip into the open and waiting mouth – Peter was insatiable and he planned to take the utmost advantage of it.