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empress-simps · 9 months ago

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A Gryffindor's Grief

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Slytherin! Reader

CW: Reader's family and language

Genre: Angst

Masterlist

Note: My first ever marauders fic! Kinda nervous to post this ngl… I'm still thinking if I should make a second part. I want to hear what you guys think about this! Requests are open! Photos used are from Pinterest! Credits to the owner!

It was forbidden love, really.

Those little moments of not-so-accidental touches, stealing glances, and discreet smiles sent each other's way were your means of communicating with each other.

James Fleamont Potter, a Gryffindor boy that was absolutely smitten with You; Slytherin's Princess.

An odd combination that would only lead to chaos.

Being one of the sacred twenty-eight wizarding families meant that you command power and respect from everyone you meet— intentionally or unintentionally. The idea about blood purity, power, and influence was already in your mind as soon as you were able to grasp things your toddler brain could handle.

You were taught to only mingle with pure-blood families, people who could be useful and loyal to you, and those with power, influence, and wealth. Your family’s distaste for muggles and muggleborns were also ingrained into your mind, as if they programmed you to believe what they believed in. It wasn’t that hard, after all you were surrounded by rich witches and wizards who are blood supremacists.

For someone who grew up with those ideals and values, you thought it was right. Although, your belief came tumbling down the longer you spend time at Hogwarts and got to know James Potter and the rest of the Marauders.

James, he made you feel alive.

It felt as if he was the breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed. Away from that suffocating Malfoy Manor, the scrutinizing gazes of your family, and away from rich pure blood problems. Being with him felt exhilarating, he was the buzz in your life. James brought so much joy into your dark, lavish, and empty lifestyle.

It was quite funny, picturing him as your knight in shining armor, whisking you away from your pretty, gold cage.

"Malfoy!" Evan Rosier, a pure-blooded Slytherin raised his hand in your direction, motioning you to come over and sit beside him during breakfast in the great hall. Cold eyes like Lucius Malfoy's travelled in his direction, a questioning brow raised.

"Rosier, you are being too loud." She commented, walking, and sitting next to him before greeting the person beside him, Regulus Black.

"Good morning, Regulus."

"Good morning, Y/n."

Barty Crouch Jr. looked up from his meal and snickered at the both of you. "Good morning, Mum and Dad." He teased, greeting you both as Evan laughed along with the other Slytherins near them. Heck even Severus has a small smirk planted on his face. "If you wish to make your family line extinct, then please feel free to continue with your remarks, Crouch."

He smirked, putting his hands up in mock surrender "Just kidding, Y/n. Geez. Rough summer, I suppose?"

You felt your lips press into a thin line, an obvious answer to the question; It was horrendous.

Evan’s laughter slowly dies, he shakes his head, “Give her a break mate, she just got the biggest news of her life during summer. Isn’t that right Y/n-“

“Shut your mouth Rosier if you do not want to be hexed into next month.” Her empty threat really doesn’t do damage to Evan, he just shrugged, taking it as a warning that you’re not in the mood for jokes.

Your father, Abraxas Malfoy and older brother, Lucius Malfoy made a huge decision for your future. Hearing rumors here and there about their Slytherin Princess being romantically involved with a blood traitor in Gryffindor enraged your father, Abraxas. That will certainly not do, they will not sit idly and watch as the Malfoy name be... tainted with those rumors.

You remember how you felt dread entering your system, fighting the urge to run and throw up as you mustered up a façade, “Those are just baseless rumors, a plot to ruin my image in school." You held your head high, praying they do not see the truth.

Abraxas stared at you, his daughter, with a monotone expression. "Your brother and I do not care whether those ridiculous rumors are true or not." Lucius nods, agreeing. What a lie. You know your family well enough to not believe what comes out of their mouths in situations like this.

"We do not care if you had relations with the boy, even though it is rumored that he is a blood traitor, you knew well enough not to fool around with mudbloods. Well done, Y/n. Perhaps you could change his views, get him to join our cause.” Lucius looked at you. You could press your lips into a thin line, trying to find an answer.

“That tactless boy's role is to only be a bed warmer for you, remember that Y/n." Your father stood from the chair he sat in the drawing room. Slowly walking towards you. “Although, I suppose it ends now. I heard Lady Walburga Black is looking for a potential bride to their heir, Regulus Black.”

After a week, it was official; You are to be wedded to Regulus Black, your friend, Sirius’ brother.

You could not do anything about the arrangement, what fight would you have put up? A young girl like you, who does not have any power, influence, and wealth could only suck it up and accept.

How you wish it was James you were betrothed to.

“James, you came.” You breathed out, seeing him take off the invisibility cloak. The moonlight in the astronomy tower complimented his features, he offered a small smile sitting beside you.

The stakes were high, you were sure underlings of your brother (and possibly father) in the school have their eyes trained to you as you enter another year in Hogwarts. You would need to find new ways to meet up with your lover. Regulus’ eyes discreetly looked towards James, who is undeniably looking at you.

“Wouldn’t want for my girl to be alone, you know?”

He joked, intertwining his finger with you, a second nature to the both of you. Squeezing his hand, you softly looked at him. “I missed you, pothead.” He leaned towards your face, kissing you on the forehead. One of the things he does that never fails to make you feel flustered. “I missed you too, love.” You rolled her eyes, slightly shoving him playfully, “Stop being sappy, Pothead.”

“You secretly like it, love. You can’t lie to me.” He grinned, although the last sentence made you tense up. James shot you a concerned look, noticing your body language. “Something wrong, love?” You were torn, deciding on whether you tell him about the engagement rather than keeping quiet and leaving him in the dark about your current situation.

“I got engaged.” Before you could even stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth. Shit. It wasn’t how she planned to tell him. The light atmosphere suddenly became dark and heavy. You can feel James turn rigid, freezing up as he muttered. “So, it was true, huh?” He scoffed bitterly, hurt overtaking his features. “James…” You gently called, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, turning his body away from you.

She tried to ignore the hurt she felt, pushing it down as she understood why James was acting this way. “Sirius told me.” He choked out, still not looking at you. James really does know you well, answering the question you haven’t even voiced out yet. The slight tremble in his voice made your heart crack. You bit your lip, of course Sirius found out; he was still a Black after all.

“I love you, James. I really do.”

You spoke to him, you raised your hand, about to put a hand on his back that was still facing you but deciding against it before it touched him. Your hands faltering before dropping down to your sides. He shakes his head violently, his curly locks getting messier than they already were.

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that, love.” He pleaded, slowly turning to face you again, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Don’t say it like you’re about to leave me. This. Us.” He croaked; you felt his large hands placed on top of yours. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

“James…” You managed to utter out, voice getting caught at the throat.

James knew he was acting like a child, but damn- he never thought it could hurt this much. He pictured both of you marrying each other, living in a large house with a big backyard because he insisted it will be great for when you have kids. Merlin, he even imagined about 3 or 4 kids looking like the perfect mix of you both, running out and about with their names already carefully thought out.

out. He daydreamed that the both of you grow old, watching you tell stories to your grandkids about their grandfather’s mischief during your years at Hogwarts.

“I have to, James.” She chokes out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. Those four little words made James’ little bubble of happiness burst with just a bat of an eye.

“Don’t… don’t do this to me, love.” He pleaded; he even went down onto his knees as he saw you standing up from your place beside him. Poor James, luckily it was only you, the moon, and the walls of the Astronomy Tower watched him become a wreck.

“I love you, please remember that you will always have my heart, James. I wish you find happiness.” The part ‘without me’ was unsaid but was heard. It took a lot of courage, strength, and self-control not to fall apart. Deep down, you wanted James to say the same to you, proclaiming his love again for the last time you’ll be together.

“I love you Y/n, so much. No one will ever make me feel the way you did. I’ll find a way; a way for us to be happy together. I swear on my life.” He promised, looking at you straight in the eye. You could only close your eyes before smiling at him, trying to blink the tears away. Stars, you hoped James really does find a way.

“Goodbye, Potter.” She turns, walking away.

Maybe Slytherins and Gryffindors really aren’t meant to be together.

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #marauders fanfiction #slytherin reader #james potter #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black #regulus black #remus lupin #harry poter

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 months ago

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Death Korps and Warframes has my interest, honestly. Days of Old is up there too, ngl.

Though, Warframes would be a very interesting thing to read.

Considering I got an ask for Warframes, imma roll with Death Korps and write a little something for it :)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

"What do we know about this Prime?" Megatron sat back in his chair, finally restored to proper functionality. He'd looked into the Prime briefly before, while he was still little more than a processor hooked up to the abominable scientist's machinery. But at the time he hadn't bothered to look much deeper. All the Primes were the same, each of them fanatical soldiers until the end.

At least, that was how it worked when he still ruled over his Decepticons eons ago. Looking at this Prime though, it seemed Ultra Magnus and his Council had gone out of their way to adjust the program to make their puppets.

"Optimus Prime was originally a dock worker, low caste." Strika, his most loyal general, adjusted the screen in front of him to show images of the young Prime when he was but a newbuild. The Optimus shown in the image was doe eyed, bright and smiling. He had the roundness of the newly framed, his protoform still tinted blue to denote his inexperience. Exposure would dull the coloration eventually, thus indicating that he must have been less than a century of age when the initial image was taken.

"His records state that he was taken in by the Academy sometime after his first century." New pictures projected themselves, showing a young and impressionable Optimus standing in line with dozens of other recruits. They all looked terrified, as was only right. Megatron could only guess as to what torment they were put through in order to turn them into the Primes the survivors eventually became.

"He was unusually optimistic when it came to Decepticon ideals and thought processes, earning him his designation of 'Optimus'." More images, each showing Optimus's training. The youngling in the images looked determined, but terrified. A video even played at one point, showing Optimus running for dear life and pausing to help one of his fellows before getting hit for it.

Slagging Autobots. They beat empathy out of their youth before they even had time to learn what caring for others meant. It was no wonder they threw lives around like scrap metal. To them, it must not have mattered.

"He was apparently beaten quite severely for daring to side with our thought processes, my Lord." Strika huffed. Megatron fought the urge to do the same. What sane nation shut down freedom of thought? Optimus could have been quite the speaker, a freedom fighter. His records indicated that he was startlingly intelligent, and based on what combat Megatron had witnessed, his current battle prowess was nothing to scoff at. And yet here he was, a Prime.

"He developed and extraordinary bitterness toward our cause due to the abuse. This sped along his indoctrination." Another series of videos played, each showing Optimus's progression into the Primely patterns Megatron was familiar with. Long sessions of indoctrination with the Primes in training all kneeling as they were preached to. The Primes rushing across landmines and other hazards, learning to disregard pain and each other for that matter. Sparring sessions that were closer to death matches than anything else. Weapons training with every Prime being meticulously assisted in finding their niche...

The images of Optimus were brutal. He went from smiles and laughter to grim brutality. He seemed to still hate every cut he inflicted, but his optics blazed with rage as he learned to use an axe. He seemed haunted, and many of the pictures showed him covered in energon, be it his own or another's. He never looked happy, and as time wore on, his frame became darker, grayer even, almost corpse like save for the blue and red. He stood at perfect attention in one image, his optics a solid blue without the barest hint of cycling or emotion.

Beside him, two comrades stood. Sentinel Prime and Elita-One, a trainee who never made it through the Academy. Both seemed just as vicious. Where Optimus was stoic, Sentinel practically frothed at the mouth. Elita for her part seemed ecstatic, thrilled to fight.

"Optimus was part of an experimental Prime program meant to group Primes up into 'trines' like our seekers. It fell through after the death of the one called Elita and the subsequent fallout between Optimus and his remaining comrade." Strika informed him calmly. Megatron hummed in response.

Primes, according to him memory, were solitary creatures. They were trained to be brutal death machines. When they were deployed, it was to end something, not to claim data or otherwise act subtly. They often fought one another when they interacted outside of formal setting, usually until one of the duo died. Competitive, cruel, and dogged in their loyalty, Primes were practically feral.

This was new. From the looks of it, the Autobots had refined the technique and created more intelligent creatures. That much was obvious just from seeing Optimus's face. The Primes Megatron knew from his reign were so brainwashed they hardly had a personality, much less self control. The one called Elita and Sentinel Prime matched the appearance and disposition of Primes Megatron knew far closer than Optimus. He must have been quite intelligent even after his indoctrination.

The fallout situation was likely caused by Sentinel, based on the images. He seemed more by the books, and likely killed Elita in sheer jealousy. Megatron simply couldn't see such behavior coming from Optimus considering the fact that he had proven himself capable of caring for his team.

"He was exiled after the death of Elita-One. Supposedly, it was punishment for trying to murder Sentinel Prime on top of losing his comrade." How fascinating...

A final image appeared on screen, and this one caught Megatron's interest.

Optimus stood before a jury, still perfectly composed, almost unemotive. And yet burning in his optics was rage. Carefully controlled rage. He was covered in scars, heavily armed, and ready for war. Yet he didn't flail or fight as he was condemned. A video that played following the image showed him expertly directing his team, a group of dropouts and other undesirables. He was tactful, calculating... and most importantly.

"He didn't kill my Decepticons when he had the chance." He mused aloud, earning an agreeing sound from Strika.

He could use this.

Primes were special units, each given access to highly sensitive data since each was essentially a General. Up until his exile, Optimus was very well regarded. He had to have information. And more than that, his disposition was intriguing. It was possible Megatron might be able to speak to him, and in turn learn far more about the Autobots than he'd had the chance to uncover in millennia.

This could be his key to victory.

"They didn't appreciate you, Optimus Prime. But I most certainly will... once I change your mind about who to offer your service to." Megatron grinned, a laugh bubbling in his throat as he imagined the possibilities.

Now all he had to do was convince-

"DIE DECEPTICON SCUM!"

An axe came flying at his helm, one that Megatron narrowly dodged as he used his blade to block a flurry of frantic attacks from the smaller Autobot before him. Optimus had somehow managed to rig himself a makeshift jetpack, and by the Allspark, he would have been a deadly seeker if he were born a warframe.

"Autobot, you have been cast off. Why do you still serve?" He attempted to speak amidst the chaos of combat, but Optimus was simply too fast for him to properly track. The smaller bot flew between his legs, coming up behind him with a harpoon gun ready to strike. Megatron deflected the attack, but not before Optimus swung at him, throwing his jetpack into his face.

He screamed as the makeshift tool exploded, temporarily blinding him. Optimus was quick to press the advantage, flying at Megatron's legs with his axe.

"Enough!" He grabbed the smaller bot before Optimus could do any more harm, holding him tight enough to dent. Optimus, of course, squirmed. But his team who rushed to help quickly came to a halt, not wanting their leader to be damaged.

"You have been abandoned, Optimus Prime. I've read your records and seen your devotion. It is wasted on the Autobots. They do not care for you, nor do they fight for freedom and peace." Optimus continued to squirm, his optics bright with anger. The other Autobots called out in disagreement, but Megatron simply watched as the Prime in his grasp met his gaze with those oh so calculating optics.

He was listening, even if he didn't show it.

"You want to fight for something greater than yourself. A truth worthy of your devotion." He paused, watching as Optimus stilled a degree.

Good. Very good.

"My Decepticons are fighting to free all of Cybertronian kind. We want to create a home where we can all live in peace." He stressed the last word, noting the reaction it got from the Prime in his grasp. Optimus scowled, the first real reaction aside from sheer bloodlust he'd earned throughout their entire interaction.

"You are traitors who abandoned and betrayed Cybertron." Megatron fought the urge to roll his optics as he squeezed just a bit tighter to make his point.

"We betrayed the Council who sought to enslave us." Looking up, the Autobot medic seemed to agree with his words. The ninja appeared to be of similar mind. They all knew the truth, they were simply too afraid to say it out loud.

"We broke free of our chains." He met Optimus's gaze once more, noting the slight widening of them.

"We can help you do so too." Megatron smiled, and for the first time since he'd met the Prime, Optimus's face betrayed something true.

He showed interest.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers animated #tfa optimus prime #tfa megatron #tfa strika #tfa au #alternate universe #short fic #Death Korps au

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mikuni14 · 13 days ago

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Our Youth - Ep 1-2

I'm a little obsessed with this show 🤡

That unmistakable vibe of old yaoi mangas and series speaks to me on some deep, subconscious level lol, like I'm going back to my roots (or have war flashbacks lol).

I even love the classic comparisons, the obvious symbolism of unmixed waters, dipping your toes into new waters, being swept away by the waves 🥰 A bad boy who isn't actually so bad and a good boy who lives a well-ordered life according to his mother's expectations of a proper, decent boy - again, classic. I thought Hirukawa would be the "perfect, cool, aloof bad boy" type, but I'm glad he's a little pathetic, a little loser, a little dorky, a little kawaii 🥰 I also like Minase, he's feisty and a little rebel :) Both actors are very pretty, like woooow, Haruki's cheekbones, Jin's cute smile, their beautiful eyes...

Since another very popular show recently dealt with domestic violence, I was a little afraid of another show with this issue, and I didn't know how it would be treated. Our Youth is currently showing it quite brutally and realistically, but without flaunting literal scenes (as viewers we can feel the aggression of the perpetrator and the fear of Hirukawa and Minase, without watching literal scenes). Hirukawa's approach and self-explanation/justification of this situation is also interesting. I'm also very interested in the themes of being a baystender, witnessing violence and the pressure of the community to stay away from people like Hirukawa so as not to disrupt their ideal image life.

The romance is shown absolutely amazingly, completely my type 🥰 There is closeness, pull-push, fascination, long looks, staring, eyes full of feelings, longing, curiosity. I rate Hirukawa casually dropping his arm on the back of the couch, in which Minase fits in perfectly, a 💯. The same as "Have you kissed yet? No. Do you want to try?". gaaaahhh!! 💯 and also "sorry about that" and the second kiss 💯 sweetjesus 😍 Ngl, these dead fish kisses felt like ambush or something lol, you know, in this beautiful year full of beautiful kisses, not to mention that I watched this episode right after Jack & Joker going all out lol. Omg guys what is this, WHAT IS THIS. IT'S 2024!!!! guuuuuuuuuuys!!!!!!! please kiss properly 😭

Now this ☝ is what I'm talking about 💯

#our youth #our youth the series #miseinen

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seikkoi · 1 year ago

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ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

content/warnings: named reader, explicit sexual content (very end), alcohol consumption, mentions of financial issues, employer/employee relations, explicit mentions of mental health issues (reader has the anxieties™), mentions of physical injuries, set in canon universe before aou.

genre: mostly angst ngl, sm*t at the very very end

word count: 7,463 im sorry

a/n: lightly inspired by the song 'october' by rothstein

dedicated to: the lovely @alessandraavengers

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business." Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “My business is your job."

I won't complain,

I will be decent,

though it will be freezing,

I welcome the rain.

The hands of the clock on the wall ticked silently, a sign of the building’s expense. You clutched a leather binder filled with papers in your lap as you sat. Everything you had to show for the last seven years of your life. Countless awards, certificates, recommendations—the expensive bachelor's and the bank account-draining master’s. Your leg bounced on the dark mahogany, steadily increasing frequency as seconds turned into minutes.

Ironically, this would also be interview number seven. For the job you were least qualified for. You applied for close to twenty at this point, all well below your skill, but you were desperate. You had barely a year of experience—quitting your first job one year out of school after one-too-many sixty hour work weeks. The moment you turned in your resignation, dread and regret over your choice in profession filled you. It held you down, sleeping and rotting the days away. Eventually, reality set in, pulled you out of bed and back into the corporate world.

Turns out, lack of experience and ‘quitting with notice’ is less than ideal.

You hoped a step down in prestige would result in less stress. All your fantasies of a top floor corner office and luxury disappeared like ash under a light rain. You always held expensive tastes that you couldn’t sustain unemployed. But the stress wasn’t worth it. All you needed now was to pay the bills. Too quickly ‘over-qualified’ or ‘under-experienced’ became your least favorite words. You had to fight back the dread every time you checked your email.

Just when you’d started pondering entry-level positions, a notification came through for a new vacancy ‘Fit for your skillset!’. To your dismay, the description sounded no different than the job you left. More grueling expectations and personal sacrifice. On top of that, you still were under-experienced by their requirements. Not to mention who it was for. Overworked employees typically miss most current events, but far too much has been going on with this company to make even you pay attention. Working for such a high-profile, drama-ridden company might be even worse. But after weeks and not so much as an offer letter, you had to try anything. On the plus side, at least it paid well.

Three days later, you found yourself inside of Stark Tower, wishing the silent clock would move faster.

Square breathes, internal mantras—nothing worked. Your heels still made a gentle clack against the floor. Thankfully, the general noise of the front lobby kept it from being a nuisance.

What you swear is eons later, your ears prick up to a similar click growing near you. You turn your head as a tall blonde approaches the small waiting area. She stops at the front desk a moment, making your heart skip a beat when the receptionist points to you.

‘Just relax, you know what to say.’ you thought to yourself. ‘They won’t hire you if you’re a nervous wreck.’

You manage to muster what little confidence you had left after weeks of rejection to stand and straighten your dress as she greets you. Thankfully, the smile she extends is friendly enough. The hand you feel is soft and manicured too— acute tells of an easy life.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Potts, I’ll be bringing you up to meet Mr. Stark.” she says, turning and heading further into the lobby.

‘Maybe this won’t be too hard. Maybe this job won’t be like the last.’

During the entire elevator ride to Mr. Stark’s office, Ms. Potts spews out factoids about Stark Industries but you’re too busy rethinking your entire interview strategy. Something about a cave, Obadiah Stane and a wormhole whizzes through your ear to no reaction. It was nothing you hadn’t already read in the weekly papers, nor did it ease you one bit.

You were even more taken aback when you realize you’re descending, and the silver doors open to a spacious garage. The faint sound of movement echoes, source unseen. You turn to Miss Potts, who only gives another pleasant smile and gestures into the concrete space.

Sure, the whole world knew Tony Stark was a bit eccentric. You knew that well enough when you applied. Hell, it probably explained the vacancy. Maybe this was some type of strategy, or just his nature. Either way, something was screaming at you to tell Miss Potts you had changed your mind, go home and apply for anything else.

Then, you remembered how badly you wanted success. You couldn’t accept anything less.

The elevator closed quietly behind you as you exited, looking for the source of the noise. There’s cars (some ridiculously new and some pathetically old), studded workbenches, and chaotic piles of robotics and machinery strewn about. You have to round the corner to find him, behind a small bar tucked away from the metal mess everywhere else.

He’s turned away from you, seated at the bar with eyes glued on a few papers before him. An ornate pen signs away without pause. You’re certain the sound of your heels against the floor gave you away, but you’re sure to clear your throat to not shock him.

Mr. Stark, clad in a grease-stained white tee and dark denim, shifts in the barstool slightly to give you a cursory look. You can tell immediately his mind is lightyears away from the present situation, focused elsewhere. On a lighter note, you notice how much kinder he looks in person. All the magazines and op-eds made his face harsh, never smiling.

“You’re the one who applied for assistant thingy right? Miss…” Stark trails off, scanning back through the papers in front of him. There’s a slight slur in his speech, one that forces you to remember the early hour.

“Cassian.” you interrupt his search and he laughs, abandoning the papers for a shiny glass on the counter.

He brings the amber liquid to his lips before he speaks again.

“Right, Cassian, look—” The glass finds its way back to the solid surface despite his sway. He stands once it does, facing you with a wide smile. “You’re hired!”

With that, you’re left more dumbfounded, staring at the billionaire as he sauntered over to one of the cluttered workbenches.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t understand—” You turn towards him as he walks by, not sparing you another glance.

When he reaches the middle of the garage, he lets out an exhausted sigh. The familiar regret seeps in, turning your nerves up another notch.

“The woman that probably brought you here—Pepper, she used to be my assistant, and handle all the tabloid bullsuit.” he mutters, fiddling with a wrench from the bench.

“After the whole ‘tower nearly blowing up’ situation, she’s taken a step uh-out of my life. For better or worse. I didn’t wanna hire anyone else, she’s convinced I can’t manage my own life— we compromised.”

You start to speak, trying to formulate the right words to say. Stark pays it no mind, tossing the wrench back down gently.

He pivots towards you, and you see the stress in his eyes. You can see why she’d quit-hell you were starting to wish you never applied. The name ‘Stark’ proliferated in the papers these days.

“Offer letter is signed, on the bar, job’s there if you want it.” With that, he walks across the garage, past you into the elevator.

The electronic ding! sounds, leaving you in the garage alone without another word. You’re convinced this is a terrible idea- even before whatever that just was.

Something sparks your curiosity to look at the signed papers, and put a dollar amount to this madness. You walk back to the bar, grabbing the stack of papers with a faint ring of water in the corner.

You’re certain you’re dreaming when you count the number of zeros.

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were ready for retirement at the ripe age of twenty-six.

This was a new type of demand. Running nearly every aspect of Tony Stark’s life didn’t eat your soul, but it ate at your mind. You could spin embezzlement or drunk-driving into a heartwarming story- alien attacks and Hydra were a whole new ballpark.

It was almost refreshing. Spinning stories for shitty people and tailoring public statements for the goal of maximum human exploitation never quite sat right with you. Handling Stark’s life just felt like defending someone who deserved it. It felt more honorable working for him than a greedy tech firm. (There are some questionable times when he doesn’t, but you don’t bother with those).

The righteousness helped the uncharted territory be more than manageable. Still, making Stark’s technology enterprise mesh well with his role as Iron Man felt like a hero’s feat on its own. The media would come up with any number of wild conspiracies about Iron Man, most of them disparaging to his image.

Stark was legitimately aiming for good things in the world. The weariness in your bones kept you craving more simplicity and ease, nonetheless.

You sunk down into the leather couch of the conference room, watching as the board members filed out in quick order. The room was filled with the golden ray of sunset— soon to turn pitch black.

Officially done with the day’s meetings, you forgo any workplace formalities and kick off your heels, despite your boss’s presence.

A light chuckle at your exhaustion breaks the silence, Stark slumping into the empty space beside you. You raise an eyebrow when he wriggles at the lavish tie around his neck, tossing the garment to the floor next to your heels.

“What, you can kick back but I can’t?” he jests, undoing the top two buttons of his black dress shirt.

You give a ‘fair enough’ shrug, leaning back to start mentally processing the last ten hours.

You found yourself staring at his exposed neck as your mind trailed off, his head leaned back, eyes shut. His jaw is tight, forehead pinch in a now-familiar focus. Stark looked nearly as drained as you, still you knew better than to try and equate things. Honestly, you considered yourself semi-lucky to only have to make things look nice for the cameras and not be present for them. In the evening glow, though, he looks close to ethereal.

You shift your eyes at the thought.

You two sit in comfortable silence as the sun moves behind the New York city skyline.

You’re doing mental math on how soon you can retire when he fills the void with a question.

“Regret taking the job?” he asks, unmoving.

You add ‘potential mind reader’ to his list of skills.

“Some parts are better than others.” It’s as honest of an answer you can give without sounding ungrateful for the opportunity (or thinking about the alluring glow on his skin).

He laughs again, turning to meet your eyes. This would mark the first time you’re under a heat lamp from his gaze, irises tired and alluring.

“Seriously,”

Clearly your answer isn’t convincing, because he turns to his side on the couch to fully face you.

“You aren’t regretting this? Because lately you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” he says with a lazy grin.

You thought you were doing a good job of burying your issues beneath walls of smiles. Hearing otherwise hurts your resolve a bit, especially from Stark. He had enough on his plate without worrying about you.

“It’s just…a lot,”

Despite how you felt, you couldn’t lie about it, not to his face.

“But it’s not your fault, it’s not you.” you swiftly add upon seeing his somber grin fade away.

“Ha, isn’t it though?” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth like a deflated balloon, running his hands through messy brown locks. “This..rollercoaster I’ve put myself on.”

“Rollercoasters can be fun.”

“You hate it.” Stark faces you once more, propping his arm up on the back of the couch.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you quit.”

The suggestion pulls a laugh of your own. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Stark makes a genuinely puzzled face, to which you spend the next minute or two explaining why you quit your first job, the weeks you spent rotting away after. You had hoped to never recount such a sad time outloud, but you couldn’t stand him feeling at fault for your lack of enthusiasm.

Ease passes through you when it seems to comfort him a bit.

“Maybe I hire you for something else, maybe pay you to not deal with this shit.” he says, laughing.

You brush off his joke with another short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Really, it’s fine. Just need a long hot shower.”

You start to stand, but are stopped when a hand graces your thigh.

“No jokes, I know what it’s like to get more than you signed up for. If money’s all that’s keeping you here, trust me that’s not an issue.”

You give a flustered smile, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was.

“It’s not all that’s keeping me here.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You know it’s just a dinner, right? Like just food, maybe music, high probability of dessert?” Stark taunts, noticing your trembling leg from behind his phone screen.

The car seems like it’s moving way too fast, even though you can very clearly see the speedometer under 25 miles per hour.

“Yes, I know what dinner is.”

You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain the ground under your feet. The part Stark conveniently forgets is that it is a very large gala he’s dragged you along to, and not just a normal dinner. You can do normal dinner, not a one hundred plus person dinner with reporters and red carpet. He’s also not considering the part where he didn’t tell you about it until two hours ago.

“Oh, that’s a relief, thought you might jump out the window.” he pockets his phone, turning to you. “I can just have Happy take you home, you know.”

“No, no, this is…excitement. I’m excited. Totally ready.” you’re really trying to convince yourself, but it only makes Tony snicker.

“These things are really boring, promise. That’s why you’re here, keep me from falling asleep.”

Out the window, the street lights start to turn back into normal orbs instead of blurry splotches. The car pulls up the curb with enough ease for you to take in the venue. It's a marble hall, one you feel suddenly underdressed for. You make a mental note to tell Stark never to give you this little notice again. Perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and head home.

Stark could behave himself, right?

The black window tinting your view disappears when the door is pulled open. You hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore, now holding the door and gesturing to the entrance. You get your first good look at the suit he’s wearing, tailored and jet-black. The flattering seams are a decent enough distraction to join him on the sidewalk.

Stark places both hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a playful shake.

“You look amazing, I look amazing, please stop worrying. It’s starting to spread and I can’t eat on an upset stomach.” he forces himself into your gaze, searching your face for the supposed ‘excitement’.

A deep breath, then a second passes through you, staring at Stark's eyes until you can manage a curt nod and still legs.

“See, you’re gonna be just fine.” he exclaims, dropping the hands from your shoulders and already smiling for the line of photographers waiting by the door.

You follow unsteadily, praying this is a speedy event. You could do this for an hour, maybe two. Stark takes notice of your delay, turning back to you just before reaching the first nerdy cameraman.

“Hey, what’s the issue with this? If your not comfortable with the cameras, you know we can just go around—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupt, gripping your clutch with sweaty palms.

“Then what?” he asks sympathetically.

“There’s like a hundred people in there, Stark.” you admit with a long sigh.

“And I’m one of them, what’s the worst that can happen if you're with me?” He turns and props his arm out towards you. “Miss Cassian?” he says, dragging out your name.

You want to roll your eyes at his constant unserious nature, but instead you take another deep breath, loop your arm through his, letting your fingers wrap around the satiny fabric on his bicep before taking slow steps forward.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Bright bulbs of light flickering in blinding succession. In every direction, microphones with human mouthpieces spew their hurried questions. Your boss answers in his typical Stark way, earning only more adoration and curiosity. You come to humor yourself with the questions they ask. Always seemingly random, from his favorite brand of whiskey to his opinion on migrant detainment in the Mediterranean.

You stand to the right as he smiles and poses for them. You almost hate how good he looks in the cold wind, face most definitely beaming behind designer snow-white frames. Outside of that, you admire his patience, knowing this winter vacation (where he didn’t have to be Iron Man for once) was leaked and now semi-ruined.

It would’ve been a well needed break for you as well. Three months of non-stop press releases, conferences, and meetings were wearing you ragged. Late nights were occupied with drafting memos and wishing you chose a career with less work. While you hated the time work took away, you unfortunately began to admire the work you did. Working for Stark turned out to be more desirable than you thought. You imagined dealing with another frustrating, reckless CEO- not a charming, witty superhero. Regardless of the long hours and chaos, you loved helping put more good into the world.

Finally, as snow starts to fall, he answers a final question on if he’ll change the color of his suit before turning to enter the cabin.

“Mr. Stark— Iron Man, won’t be taking any more questions, excuse me, thank you.”

You tried to squeeze past incessant reporters and fans, barely making it through the hotel front door if it weren’t for security. The commotion outdoors gets muffled by the tall wooden doors. You sigh and lean against them, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Feeling alright, Cassie?”

Stark’s voice makes you open your eyes to see him standing in the foyer. This would be the fourth time you feel his eyes burning through your skin. You expected him not to be upstairs in bed, asleep already, not in front of you, eyeing you with his hands buried in his pockets.

The place he chose spared little expense, clearly for starlets like Stark looking for a lush, woodsy escape. Wooden walls covered every inch, adorned with fancy art and a modern fireplace in the living room. The color reminds you of the tower lobby, a deep mahogany.

“Yeah, just remind me why I’m here and not at home in my heated apartment.” You keep your voice light as you hang your coat on the rack by the door.

Stark gives a playful scoff, too used to your sarcasm to take offense.

“A certain former assistant thinks I need a babysitter on my own vacation.” He turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen with a renewed energy (surely only now remembering he’s supposed to be relaxing).

“She’s not wrong.” you agree only because Stark re-emerges from the kitchen with a tall amber colored bottle and two glasses.

You can’t help rolling your eyes at his stiffened jazz hands, tossing yourself onto the plush armchair by the fireplace. The cold seemed to wrap itself around you, not leaving despite your proximity to the fire. Stark chose to sit on the side table next to you, rather than the wide array of more comfortable seating options. You’d gotten used to him entering your personal space since your talk in the conference room. You took it as a sign of his narcissism more than anything.

“Not sure I’m meant to be a drunk babysitter, Mr. Stark, ” you quip as he starts pouring.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he winks, offering you one. “And come on with the ‘mister’—making me feel old over here.”

It’s bothersome how little he has to say to change your mood. Something about being with just him, away from press, deadlines or state secrets, pulled you in and kept you coming to work everyday. In this moment, however, his solitary presence made you anxious. You’d have to get through this sabbatical without the chaos of the world bringing you back to reality. The real world, littered with expectations.

Free of any reason to decline, you take the glass. You and Tony do a lazy toast, clicking the glasses together before taking a sip. The peaceful quiet envelopes the cabin, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

“You okay?” you ask upon seeing the weariness in his face, contrasting the grin he held.

“Better than okay,” he finishes the rest of his drink, pouring another faster than you take a second sip. “Happy to be away from everything, ‘get in touch with the great outdoors!’ as they say.”

You laugh at the dramatic mocking tone he uses, extending your arm out when he makes a gesture at your empty glass.

“I hope your atleast being slightly genuine, Mr. Stark.” you say once the glass is full once more.

“When am I ever not, Miss Cassian.” he draws on your name with the same mocking pitch as before.

You fake a wince at the taste of your own medicine, which amuses the hell of the already tipsy Stark.

“I see what you mean, felt fifteen years added on instantly with that,” you admit, chuckling at his demeanor.

“Hence why I’m such a nice guy and call you Cassie like a normal person,” he states smugly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh really, Tony? ‘Cause you only gave me that nickname after I explicitly told you no one ever calls me that.” you laugh.

“Yes and that was a great loss to the universe that I fixed,” Tony turns his head to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling (you tell yourself it’s just the alcohol and nothing else).

The both of you stay there silent, eyes locked for what quickly becomes far too long and the awkwardness makes your attention back to your drink. You finish the contents, hoping that the liquid would cool your now burning skin.

You internally remind yourself that this is just how he is- a playboy philanthropist turned charming hero, nothing else.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t really much of a vacation for you. ‘Know you wanna be at home, away from Stark Industries,” he deflates a bit, pouring a third drink.

“No, it’s not like that,” you interject, speaking softly, “I really don’t mind being here, and it’s still a good break from meetings and all that other tedious shit.”

He takes a sip, seemingly mulling over your words. “Give any more thought to my offer?”

You let out a small laugh, thrown off by his sudden mention of it. You were certain then that he wasn’t being anything near serious.

“What, you paying me to not be here? I didn’t think that was you being serious.”

“It’s a win-win, no? You get a salary, I don’t have to drag you along for this rollercoaster, Pepper doesn’t worry, everyone’s happy.”

Clearly you’re left silent for too long, because Tony stands before he speaks again. He seems conflicted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Look, I don’t need to see you miserable, I guess.”

“What, who said I was miserable?”

“Anyone would be dealing with me.”

TWO DAYS LATER

After a few days, an air of melancholy had hung over you. Two days of nothing turned into endless overthinking about your life. Every decision made seemed to rattle in your bones, looking for a place to be. You tried to tell yourself it was normal to feel lost, to feel as though everything you’ve ever done was pointless. This was the first time you’d had room to think, of course everything would be overwhelming.

That didn’t help, but whatever red wine Tony brought did.

You found it on night two, cracking open the second bottle when Tony comes downstairs. You gave a sluggish hey that gave away your state immediately, but you were too absorbed in your thoughts to meet his eyes.

“Didn’t take you for a wine connoisseur.” he mutters, sitting in the chair across from you.

You don’t bother with a response. In fact, you wished that he’d go away. Seeing Tony lately just reminded you more of the life you were sure you wouldn’t have. You were certain you made all the wrong choices, took all the wrong paths.

“Cassian?” he leans forward, forcing his face into your point of view. “Kinda' freaking me out here.”

“You ever think about what your life would be like if you weren’t,” you trail off for a moment, slurring slightly. “I don’t know—you?”

He laughs and it feels infectious, closing your eyes to hopefully shut up the twist in your stomach.

“Me, specifically? Who knows? Maybe I’d be a pilot, or own a hotdog stand.” he goes silent at your lack of reaction to his joke, resting his chin against his hands.

“Why, thinking about faking your death and adopting a new identity?”

The red liquid in your glass coats your dry throat. You’d love to start over. Go back and see what the other paths held. Then, the deep pit of your stomach turns, remembering how different and worthwhile working for Stark made you feel.

“What if I did everything wrong?” you ask quietly.

If you did, a small part of the anxiety in your gut assures you that it was worth it to find your way to him.

“Define ‘wrong’.”

“Not what I imagined, I guess”

To help someone who wanted to do so much to help the world.

“Well, what do you want from life?”

You go silent again. “I don’t know.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

With nothing to prove you,

and if I should lose you

—It won't be in vain.

On the last day at the cabin, you feel a genuine sense of sadness at the thought of leaving.

Fourteen days with no reminder of the outside world had you the most relaxed in years. Bliss was all you felt waking up each morning to no phone calls, no emergencies, and no meetings. You forgot what it was like to just exist, to not have your thoughts bogged down by deadlines. You had even forgotten the benefits of good company. The demanding nature of your job meant little social life, and you didn’t realize until nearly two days in that you had been craving it. What surprised you more was that you received that good company in the form of your boss. Tony seemed to go out of his way to fill any voids of silence with quips and self-deprecating jokes to make you laugh. Clearly to spare himself the awkwardness of your dissatisfaction.

Nothing changed about personality, but removing the dark shadow of responsibility made him visibly less wound up. It must have done the same for you, because you spent most of these last two weeks laughing (or catching up on well-needed sleep). You tried to avoid him lately, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you could feel growing for him. Opting for weeks of solitude with him was possibly not the wisest route.

Retroactively, if you had all this sudden free time at home alone, you probably would’ve gone a little crazy.

You must be wearing your solace on your face, because that night, during dinner, Stark asks if something is wrong.

“Is it a bad thing if I don't want to go back to New York?” you chuckle at your own absurdity, scraping the last bits of food into the trash.

“Is it worse if I agree?” he smiles, looking up from his own plate.

“Not excited to go back to being an Avenger?” you ask honestly, sitting back down at the kitchen table, next to him.

“Ha, excited’s the wrong word.” he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “You’re not jumping to get back out there either.”

You give an agreeing nod, resting your head in your hands when you start mentally going through all the tasks waiting for you tomorrow.

“You don’t have to go back like I do. You can get away from all this.”

When you look up, Tony’s eyes are glued to the floor.

“You know, you can just fire me if it’s that much of a bother to you.” you say sharply.

Truthfully, it was starting to come off as a subtle hint to leave rather than concern. It muddied whatever imaginary connection you maybe thought you’d fostered over these last few weeks. All the little touches and extra concern bounced around in the back of your head like a live grenade. You didn’t know how much of it was aimed towards you, or just his charismatic nature. Maybe there was never any charisma, and he was the same as any other CEO.

“Cassie, that’s the last thing I want.” he says, like he’s offended, and you want to laugh at the audacity.

“Could’ve fooled me.” you retort, standing to exit the kitchen.

Tony intercepts you at the doorway, however, clearly scrambling for words to ease the newly-created tension. All it really does is annoy you more, seeing those brown eyes pleading silently. Either way, you can’t get past.

“I—This is too much for anyone to handle. I can barely handle it and that’s because you do so much behind-the-scenes for me. A lot of people have reached their wits end with me and I don’t want that with you.”

It sounds painful for him to say, and despite his soft tone, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him be.

“I think you’re worried a bit too—”

“I’d rather not be the reason you spend weeks in bed, okay?”

Frozen in the doorway, your anger still boils. It felt like the thing you were most ashamed about being thrown in your face. You want to go back to that conference room and never tell him a thing. It’d save you the confusion, save you from all the mixed signals. He couldn’t mean it. You remember the way he reluctantly submitted to Pepper and hired you. Tony didn’t care, he never wanted you here in the first place. You felt stupid for thinking anything else.

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business."

Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“My business is your job, can’t you see I’m trying to be supportive?”

You almost start to regret your words, but you can’t stand the way he looks at you like some fragile thing.

For the fifth time, you're hot under his gaze, but it does nothing besides flare your anger more.

“I don’t need your support, stop acting like you have any idea what’s best for me.” you snap, taking a step closer.

To your surprise, Tony closes the remaining distance, and you have to look up to maintain your glare. Tony's expression shifts from concern to frustration, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Clearly, you don’t even know what’s best for you. Forgive me for giving a damn.” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes, deciding to just put an end to this conversation. In his frustration, Tony left a wide enough gap for you to try and snake through. Your heated exit must’ve been obvious, because he steps back to keep you in front of him.

“Seriously?” your fists clench at your sides, heat spreading up your arms to your cheeks.

“Why are you still here?” he softens a bit, but not entirely folding his arms over his chest.

It’s not enough though— your irritation is unchanging even under his tender gaze. It was easier to stay angry and pretend like he wasn’t the only thing keeping you. To not admit that you didn’t want to abandon him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you retort through gritted teeth, motioning at the logged walls around you.

“Damn it, I thought it’d help, Cassie!”

The severity of his words leaves you speechless. You never heard him really raise his voice, let alone come close to yelling.

“But, clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.” Tony moves from the doorway, taking fast steps past you towards the main door before you can say anything.

In an effort to keep him from storming out, you reach out for his arm as he brushes by. Instantly, he pulls away as if you're made of open flames. You try to show the hurt on your face, but now that your anger has started to dissipate, you notice a similar transformation in Tony. To your benefit, though, it keeps his feet firmly planted.

“I’m not some broken person you need to protect.” you admit, avoiding the potential anger still in his eyes.

“Wow, really? Didn’t know.”

Always with the jokes and sarcasm. You lift your head to Tony’s expectant gaze, causing you to sigh heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he states dryly, leaning back against the kitchen table. “Why are you still here?”

“You keep assuming I hate my life.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, rather dramatically in your opinion.

“Could’ve fooled me.” he responds, mocking your words from earlier. “You avoid me like the plague lately, and I don’t know how you expect me to just see you unhappy and say nothing”

“That has nothing to do with work-”

“Then what is it?”

There’s something else in his eyes, something like the sparkle you saw all those months ago.

You look at him with pleading eyes of your own. A sense of entrapment overwhelms you, stuck with the choice between potentially ruining everything or, well, still potentially ruining everything. You wish he really could just read your mind and understand. Understand that you didn’t want to leave him, that you were avoiding him to protect your own, admittedly fragile, heart.

"Can't you just accept that I don't want to leave?" you manage, your voice barely louder than a pin drop.

Your heart flutters as he steps closer, though it shouldn't surprise you; he's never been one to respect personal space, and an argument wouldn't change that.

"No, I need to hear you say it," his tone is low, almost taunting, and his unyielding gaze sends another wave of fluttering through you.

"I don't want to leave you."

In the next second, Tony's lips crash against yours, pinning your back to the wall with a heavy thud. You don’t notice, the world fading with the taste of vanilla on your tongue and the scratch of his beard on your chin. Your thoughts become a blur as Tony's teeth graze your lips, and his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer, the arc reactor pressing into your skin.

When the kiss ends, you're both left panting, yet he still clings to you, gripping your waist like he’s scared you’re going to run away.

“I told you- the last thing I want is for you to leave.” he says sternly, voice still low. You can’t see his face, buried in the crook of your neck, but the heavy breath on your skin makes you lightheaded.

“Tony-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s wrong to think I know what’s best for you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I care about you too much for that, Cassie.”

“I’m your assistant, Tony.”

Tony gently cups a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his, his thumb caressing your cheek. He studies your face intently, searching for any signs that he should stop while he's ahead. You stopped counting how often he leaves you a mess with his eyes, and try your best not to stare at his swollen lips.

“Then tell me you don’t feel the same.” he whispers.

A beat of silence passes, the fire crackling in the next room uninterrupted.

“I…can’t.” you answer hesitantly.

The confession hangs heavy in the cabin’s stagnant air. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, waiting for the dream to end.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Doing this wrong, ruining everything.” Your eyes squeeze shut from embarrassment.

Tony laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, before kissing you again. It’s soft and slower than before, calloused hands still cupping your face.

“I think you’re the one who worries too much. When has anything bad happened to you when you’re with me?” Tony suggests, grinning, his eyes filled with warmth.

You want to mention an office party a few months ago, where a drunk attendee threw up on your shoes, but you let him make his point.

“Let me do the worrying for a bit, sound good?”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You felt like you traded seasons getting back to New York at the start of spring. You hadn’t gone home, instead staying in the tower at Tony’s request. You didn’t mind it at all, being surrounded with more comfort than you could ask for.

Tony made it his personal mission to keep you away from all things work related, despite how many times you told him you enjoyed helping him. One small problem being that he left for a mission a few days ago, and you haven’t got the faintest clue where he was or when he was returning. The first day, you relished in a bit of solitude, reading books that sat on your shelf the last two years untouched or catching up with friends that you lost touch with. To your relief, most understood your reason for disconnecting, and the books were captivating. Now, however, it was day three, and you were starting to do the one thing he asked you not to— worry.

Just as the rain starts to splatter the tall windows of his penthouse, you’re considering reaching out to Fury or Hill to make sure he’s at least still breathing. The only thing that stops you is the ding! of the elevator, turning your nerves back down to zero.

When you meet him at the door, a wide smile breaks out on his face—surprised you’re still there.

“How was it?” you ask, as Tony drops his bag and moves towards you. You feel slightly awkward in this new territory with him, shifting your weight anxiously.

“We’re getting closer to the scepter. Hydra’s pulling out all the stops these days.”

As Tony steps into the light, a deep freshly-stitched cut under his right eye comes into view. Before you can say anything about the cut, you notice the large bandage on his arm, and a matching bruise crawling up his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony slowly peels off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind you. “Oh, this? This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” he says with a flashy grin.

You’re busy scanning for more injuries, eyes raking for more bandages and stitches. Tony doesn’t let you continue for long though, taking your hands in his.

“What’d I tell you about worrying?” he teases, stroking your hair and planting a quick kiss on your lips.

You give an annoyed sigh, wishing he didn’t irritate and charm you in the same breath so much.

“I think it’s natural to worry when you’re bleeding.” you gruff, letting Tony pull you into a tight embrace.

“Then I’m not doing my job, am I?” You don’t protest when his hands roam over your body, placing light kisses against your neck. “Let me take your mind off things.”

The light kisses on your neck turn into heavy bites, leaving marks along your collarbones. He creates his own path along your skin, sighing softly as his mouth finds every inch of skin your pajamas didn’t cover. You’re a panting mess as he trails down your body, twisting a hand into his messy locks.

When he kneels before you, you feel unsteady on your feet. You wish you could say you two had gone this far already, but Tony considered himself a self-proclaimed gentleman and insisted you wait. It seems three days away from you was enough for the chivalry to fly out of the window.

He stops for a moment, fingers hooked in your shorts, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“Cassian?”

“Mhm?” You mumble, shutting your eyes. Nerves and anticipation mix terribly in your stomach, making you unable to process the desire on his face. You feel the fabric of your shorts slide down your legs with your panties. The cool air doesn’t help you any, rendering your skin sensitive and Tony’s hand feel like a furnace.

“Relax, doll.”

You suck in a breath as his lips wrap around your clit, body stilling— the hand in his hair tightening. Weeks of Tony’s insistent waiting had you thinking your first time with him would be slower- you were ill-prepared for the way he runs through your folds with absolute filth. He moans into you, keeping a tight hold on your thighs to hold you close.

He’s quick—grazing teeth against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance— just to drag the tip of his tongue against your length and return your clit to start the cycle all over again. You feel the wetness coating the inside of your thighs, saturing his scratchy stubble on your skin.

You bring your free hand to the back of the couch as he continues, sighing into your core and sending shockwaves up your spine. You try to maintain some type of balance, legs growing shaky again in pleasure rather than anxiety for a change.

“Tony, god, that’s-” You’re cut off by your own moan when you feel Tony insert a finger into your soaking cunt, rocking slowly as his mouth finds its way back to your clit.

He pulls away a moment, letting his thumb keep the pressure against your sensitive bud. Your head tilts back, nails digging into the leather behind you. Out of your view, Tony wears a smug grin, pleased to see you taking his directive to heart. The middle of the living room might not have been his first choice, but it’s well worth it. Besides the fact you taste like heaven, it’s worth hearing every sound escape your lips.

Getting caught up in that, however, caused him to loosen the grip on your thighs. When his fingers curve inside you, your hips jerk against him. The calloused fingers tighten on your legs, to your slight dismay.

“Easy, doll, I got you.” he mumbles, returning his focus to eliciting more intoxicating moans from you.

Tony renders you a complete mess sooner than you’d like to admit, gasping above him as the warmth in your core grows overwhelming. If you told yourself a year ago that your boss would have you panting and begging, you wouldn’t believe it. Regardless of belief, his tongue pulls plea after plea from you. Your stomach feels painfully coiled- mind absorbed with the wet, filthy sound of Tony’s mouth on your cunt.

With another curve of his finger, you sent over the edge—crying out Tony’s name like a prayer and abandoning the hand tangled in his hair to hold yourself up. Tony lets you ride out your orgasm against his fingers, kissing the damp skin between your legs and muttering soft praises.

It’s not until you sense him standing again in front of you that you open your eyes. You immediately want to take it back when you see the shit-eating grin covering his shiny face. The sight sends a new wave of desire through you, staring at his mouth with your lips parted, panting softly. Did he have to look so good constantly?

“As cute as you are when you’re worried, I think I prefer this look on you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x you #seikkoiwrites

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evelynpr · 3 months ago

Note

For the character ask game can I pick toga :)

I'm gonna be very honest in these, and I might disappoint, but here it is-

My first impression - I started watching BNHA around 5 years ago? It's hard for me to remember what exactly was my first impression of Toga, but back then I really didn't care for her much. Honestly, I just found it quite problematic that the only main female villain in BNHA is an overly cute school girl who fits the "cute yandere" trop to a t when the rest of the male villains look a lot more serious and scary.

My impression now - Perfectly honest- I really only started paying attention to her because of Ochako. I was, and still am, a massive Ochako fan, and when I heard that she suddenly had a massive romantic and tragic battle and narrative with Toga after leaving the fandom for 3-4 years, I was immediately deadly curious. - Even with how much I resonate with her story and character, I generally have a big ick for blood as a whole (surprising for a very loud tgck fan I know). Right now, she's my poor desperate little baby who really really needs love and therapy (affectionate). I wish we got to see more of her regular girly side, like caring for the LOV especially Magne and Twice.

Favorite thing about that character - That her entire story is a mentally ill and queer narrative. Like I said earlier, I actually have a big ick for blood and the cutesy yandere trope. But the thing that gets me about Toga is that she is the most openly bisexual/pansexual character in the series, very clearly mentally struggling, and both thrives and suffers because of her choices and circumstances. - She's such a tragic and hopeful character that represents so many weird people like me that I can't help but be attached. She makes me want to embrace my more girly and selfish side, and screams at me that I should live my life how I want to. - I can't leave out Ochako from this part. Holy shit the themes and story about their relationship makes my heart both break and soar so bad it genuinely hurts. Save people by understanding them, helping them, listening to them. Show someone you can be selfish, that they deserve love, that she deserve a chance. It's so much it punches me to a million sobbing pieces.

Least favorite thing - For the 3rd time now...not into blood. I don't like its taste, look, and the mere thought of bleeding genuinely grosses me out. - You probably think "How in the world are you attached to her then?" well its because I understand that Toga's "blood" is also a representation of her violent tendencies and love. I see it much more as a narrative device for her character and themes.

Favorite line/scene - Shocking, but I actually have not read the manga. I can't say what my favorite scene is just yet because I want to truly witness it animated, when the time comes. - If you want an answer well, from the anime so far, it probably is when she gets her quirk awakening in MVA, or when she confesses to Izuku in the final war (mostly because that scene is so damn hilarious, tragic, and important).

Favorite interaction that character has with another - ...I mean obviously it's Ochako lmao? Every interaction is a fight of ideals and love- which suddenly morphs into a way of challenging each other- then growing into understanding and loving each other. That is. Just insane. How the fuck did BNHA's writers come up with this.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more - For the sake of my Tgck Bkdk square, I really wished for her to have interacted with Bakugou at least once. Just see how one person's violence and power was praised, while the other was abandoned and shamed. How they both have a strong squishy-faced freak they're obsessed with, and also obsessed with them, even if they don't feel like they deserve it. - Oh and, definitely more LOV random shenanigans and bonding time. I wish I was able to get more into them ngl, but I never really felt that sadly. Man...

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character - UHHH??? I genuinely have no idea. I am drawing at a blank I am so sorry T__T This is the firsts time I have ever been interested in this kind of character??? Really sorry-

A headcanon about that character - This is kind dark so be warned - I got this idea from a fic and now I can't stop thinking about it. Toga always wanted her love to be reciprocated or understood by someone. Anyone. I feel that she was taken advantage of and abused by horrible people in her earlier days of running away...especially since she's a young teenage girl in a cute school uniform. I am so sorry...

A song that reminds of that character - I am working on a Togachako playlist! It's about both of their characters respectively and also their story and relationship, but here's the ones about Toga specifically! - Hayloft II (THIS ANIMATIC), The Red Means I Love You (obviously lol), Butcher Vanity, Hero (Charlie Puth, mostly tgck), Pink Pony Club (Chappell Roan, early Toga)

An unpopular opinion about that character - She's not the possessive type, and she's really very open to people she loves loving other people at the same time, polymarous kind. This is probably a pretty common hc already tho since she says this repeatedly? - Her most common form of love is a very impulsive/sexual/admiration/attracted kind. You could even relate this to hypersexuality (something I struggle with) where the moment you find something you're into on someone, you body and brain genuinely go kinda out of control. I project onto her my own inability to hold and control these kinds of feelings at times, but Toga is quite the manifestation of my fears.

Favorite picture - I love it when a character's mask peels off. Toga genuinely angry, upset, and just not smiling is so fascinating and beautiful to me in a "It's okay my dear, show all of you, stop hiding" (Ochako might disagree with me on this tho, since she loves her smile lmao-)

#woah uh #that was even more honest than I expected...#hero-nerd thank u so much for the ask #it did make me reevaluate my feelings and thoughts abt her #and I will be honest and say #I really am mostly interested in her bcus of her dynamic with ochako- and her themes and narrative #like I can hide away from that #maybe if I had less of a physical choking reaction to themes on blood #then maybe I would actually really like her man T__T #but otherwise I hope this was...#interesting? insightful? in any way?#woah ok thats enough now laksdjfkasd #evelynpr bnha #bnha #mha #my hero academia #toga himiko #togachako #evelynprask

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trolagygirl2022 · 6 months ago

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Kim Jiwoong ideal type

The thing that strikes me about this chart is that he seems to have a refined taste. He's more into woman that have this "classy" vibe. They make themselves look good, they're quiet and stick to their business. Someone that is a no nonsense person and are focused on more important things. He likes someone that is quite reserved but enchanting. Also, quite specific but he likes one that knows themselves. They know what they want, already have their life figured out, etc. He doesn't want to be someone's "experiment".

Jiwoong is intrigued by someone that has an enticing vibe. Kind of like a sultress? She just is very magnetizing, the way that she walks, talks, looks, etc. The vibe of person that can even intimidate you by their aura. This person doesn't even have to do much they can easily charm you with their eyes. Ohh this guy really likes one with captivating eyes. It's the thing that attracts him in the first place.

He likes someone very devoted, the type of person that only has eyes for him and doesn't focus on others. He seems like someone that can easily loose himself in a connection with someone so he wants someone to reciprocate that, maybe even more intensely than he does. Jiwoong wants someone that cater to his emotional needs as he can get pretty lonely, also to other ones... (I won't delve into that but you know what I mean).

I see him liking someone that can support themselves, but also that he can spoil them as well? I also see him being attracted to someone that is... well attractive. I see him leaning towards certain makeup styles that make one easily stand out. I see him probably having a thing for foreigners ngl. So in a nutshell, he seems to like a refined classy look.

sharp foxy eyes

uk makeup typa look

"exotic"

curvy/thick/hourglass

black hair

red lipstick

sharp brow

rbf

short

#jiwoong birth chart #jiwoong astrology #zb1 jiwoong #zb1 astrology #zb1 ideal type #zb1 ideal type astrology #kpop astrology #kpop ideal type #astrology #kpop birth chart

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aihoshiino · 6 months ago

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chapter 150 thoughts!

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 7…. ttttttechnically? they don't actually mention that the kiss happened, so i'm counting it…

ladies, gentlemen and those who know better, our long national nightmare is finally over

after… literally I've lost count of how long it's been since we had some proper Aqua introspection, our landmark chapter 150 is almost entirely dedicated to putting us back in Aqua's head (quite literally!) and sort of catching up with him. Some things about Aqua that have been mostly only communicated through showing over telling are explicitly told in text and i'm ngl, there's one or two things where seeing textual confirmation of them got me barking like a fucking dog. Overall, while the pacing of the start of this arc has been bit clunky and this chapter itself isn't free of that either, it actually feels like things are moving and meaningful characterization is happening which after the Movie Arc is a bit of a luxury lol.

As usual, I want to gush about Mengo's art before I touch on anything else. Setting the majority of this chapter in a dream sequence allowed her to do some incredibly fun things with the staging and imagery here. Aqua in that eerie void with his feet drenched in blood… Aqua and Gorou still stuck in that hallway where Ai died, while Ruby has managed to take steps to leave… It's so fucking good.

There were some absolutely top tier Kanas this chapter, too… her little baby tantrum in flashback and that gorgeous final page of her… But I'm getting ahead of myself.

While I described this chapter up top as being communicating things about Aqua, it very much feels to me like it's also serving as closure for Gorou, both in the sense of him as a person and resolving the posthumous arc that he's been going on as part of Aqua. This chapter at last draws a clear and explicit distinction between the two, that Aqua is no longer Gorou, even if he might have been built on the foundation of his identity. Gorou is even described as a 'role' that Aqua has been compelled to play that Gorou himself is now urging him to step down from - he is offering to relinquish Aqua's future back to him… if that's what Aqua wants.

This was how I'd initially read the relationship back in my 143 review - that 'Aqua Hoshino' created from Gorou, his core values and driving ideals, but 18+ years of living a whole new life in a whole new social role, meeting people and having experiences Gorou would never have and literally having a different body and brain in the process have made him different and the sum total of those differences is the person we call Aqua Hoshino. This chapter seems to lean into this interpretation, casting them as a pair of briefly intersecting lines that once crossed but have now diverged onto their own paths.

I also just really liked the dynamic that they were shown to have this chapter. Whenever we've seen this conflict externalized in the past, Gorou has always been this frightening, overwhelming presence whose existence actively prevents Aqua from having any kind of happiness or peace. Here, though, they have a much less adversarial energy, which is a really nice reflection of Aqua being able to gradually start pulling himself out of the shit he's been stuck in. Gorou almost feels fatherly or big brotherly here, not just in how he behaves in regards to Sarina-as-Ruby, but for Aqua, too.

But……….. okay, I'll stop dodging around the elephant in the room now lol

After over 25 chapters of very deliberately avoiding putting us in his headspace, 150 finally puts the ball in Aqua's court vis-a-vis the AquRuby tension and he answers in a way I think would be pretty hard to walk back: That Ruby is his precious sister and that's it. That her feelings for him are the result of her projecting Gorou onto him, chasing a ghost that is fading from this world and that she does not actually love him. Whoof.

This was another thing where seeing it in text felt pretty great. I'd caught pretty early on that there was a weird divide in the way the story was handling the AquRuby dynamic - namely, that there wasn't an AquRuby dynamic and all the supposed ship development of it was largely happening in retrospect, beefing up the intensity of the GRSR relationship and having Ruby express her feelings to Gorou-through-Aqua. When the idea of Aqua and Ruby romance was floated, by contrast, it was always treated like a gag. With the Movie arc being as much of a mess as it was, it was hard to work out what the intentionality of that was (if there was any to begin with) but this seems to make it about as clear as it can be: neither Gorou or Aqua have any had any feelings of that sort of Sarina-through-Ruby and neither of them want to pursue romance with them.

Once again tapping into my powers of Claire-voyance, I already know a lot of people are trying to insist that this is Aqua lying to himself or 'settling' and that he does secretly want a relationship with Ruby for reals! but that really isn't how it comes across to me in the art. He's calm, speaks straightforwardly and without hesitation and makes his point pretty clear. We know how it looks when OnK character lie to themselves and this isn't really it. It would also just be strange for that to be the case when this is a scene about Aqua starting to consider the idea of moving past the things that hurt him and live out his future with someone.

And who that someone is… seems to be coming into focus, but I don't think we'll be getting there quite yet.

I will say that for as much as I liked this as a chapter and as a goodbye for Gorou… it kind of doesn't really make a lot of sense as a resolution for his guilt lol. This chapter frames things in such a way that centers his guilt on Sarina and that seeing her live her life as Ruby has given him some catharsis over it. This is a sweet idea but… that's, uh, not how this was framed anytime prior! When we've seen Gorou intrude on Aqua's happiness before, his self hate and his guilt all center on Ai's death and his inability to save her. The last time we saw him in this capacity in 95, that's what he was saying with his whole chest: that he deserves to suffer as punishment for Ai's suffering, Ai's death. I'm sure that knowing Sarina is living on as Ruby was very cathartic but… it has nothing to do with Ai! Why is this being framed as narratively resolved in this way?

Like… if I chew on it a bit, I can make it make sense: since chapter 1, Gorou has been pretty open about projecting Sarina onto Ai, processing his grief that way and imagining her living vicariously through Ai's success. The idea of Ruby doing the same by continuing Ai's legacy and keeping her radiance alive being the thing that gives him release over Ai's death is interesting and I can understand it emotionally, it just feels like a weird unexplained leap for the narrative to make. I was talking to a friend about it, trying to work it out by externalizing it, and they theorized that this was always the intended endpoint of Gorou's posthumous arc but that the story had drifted in the middle section and Akasaka hadn't quite realigned them. This makes a lot of sense to me and I wouldn't be surprised if it was the case.

I will say that it really bugs me. I've already talked about the ways Ai's importance to the twins as their mother has been gradually downplayed and diluted as the Movie Arc has gone on. In my original post, I attributed this to Akasaka trying to amp up the intensity of the GRSR -> AQRB relationship in a soap opera-y sort of way, but given that this chapter seems to shut down AquRuby, I don't really know if that's the case. In general, Ai has been treated as sort of narratively 'resolved' as of 137, as if that chapter was the capstone to her posthumous character arc and while that might be the case for Ruby… I really don't think it is for Aqua!

It's possible that this is intentional. Aqua still has a shitton of work to do on unfucking his relationship with Ai and the ways his view of her, as implied by the Movie Arc, is warped by his grief. I could see this final stretch of the story being primarily about that - after all, this chapter is about confronting Aqua with the binary choice of revenge or love. In a lot of ways, this has always been what he's struggling with but putting the ball this firmly in his court establishes Ai's death entirely as his own trauma that he has to work through on his own. After all, Aqua might have confronted Gorou in this chapter, but there's a certain someone we also saw in chapter 95 that Aqua hasn't dealt with yet…

I'm talking about Kana, obviously! (ducks thrown tomatoes)

I don't have a ton to say about the AQKN romance setup in this chapter other than… yeah, I kinda saw this coming! It's interesting to see Gorou, the representation of Aqua's guilt and self destruction, be the one to so directly confront him and push him towards trying to find some happiness with her. Aqua quietly noting that he knows the things he likes about Kana and he knows that moving on with her makes a lot of sense - but what makes this especially interesting is the way it mirrors Kana's own reflection on her relationship with Aqua at the end of the chapter.

I like that a lot of the AQKN moments the two reflect on are just… mundane, everyday instances of the two of them stumbling through life together. I've seen a lot of people say AQKN is 'boring' or 'flat' because it lacks the drama of AQAK or AQRB but honestly, I feel like this is what makes it work (when it does work) - their relationship, whatever form it takes, is a safe and quiet space where they can just exist outside the drama and transactional utility of so many of their other relationships.

That said, while those montages mirror each other, what makes them interesting is their divergence point. Kana decides to commit to choosing 'love', with that absolutely gorgeous full page panel, but Gorou hands the knife - the symbol of the violence that blighted Aqua's life - back to him and makes it clear that love or revenge, the choice is now entirely in Aqua's hands. We don't see what he chooses, but… if Oshi no Ko really is a story with a happy ending, I think it's a foregone conclusion. And that makes me really happy.

Not that it's happening anytime soon, lol. I'll be very shocked if Kana's confession doesn't result in a rejection from Aqua, at least at this point in time - there's too much else going on in the story for this to be the right place for Aqua to commit to Kana. She's still an idol, after all and Kamiki is still around. The bets I'm placing right now are that AQKN are going to get their resolution, whatever form it takes, at the Dome concert during or after Kana's graduation.

As for their date… Call me cynical, but I also don't see it going particularly well. After all…

Aren't we forgetting somebody?

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews

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itsohh · 1 year ago

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Interupted Rest

A/N: Not much happens here ngl but this was just a scene really I had stuck in my head. (Aka I'm down bad for vampire!ghost feeding off his s/o.

Summary: After getting send out on a mission with Ghost, a change in events has his life in your hands at the possible cost of your own. Life is where the blood is and you have to decide on who needs it the most.

Word count: 2191

Warnings: Violence, self inflicted injury

Part 1 AO3 Masterlist

Normally you spent most of your time specifically looking after Kyle. He was, of course, the member who required the most amount of maintenance. Not because of his own fault but a lot of your time was spent just making sure he was paired correctly. The rest of them could quite easily handle themselves if shipments were late or they were forced to sustain themselves with less-than-ideal amounts of blood. Kyle was an unknown entity and no one wanted to find out how long it would take for him to snap. The battlefield wasn't the right place for a starving newborn. You did your job well when it came to looking after Gaz. You handled him well.

Yet, Laswell had you looking after Ghost. No one else was on any mission. This time she had you actually travel with him to base camp, you didn't know if he would want you with him out in the field and she hadn't told you about doing so. Either way, you would do what was needed of you. This led to you sitting across from him in the vehicle in silence. Perhaps a few months ago it would have been daunting or uncomfortable with the way he seemed to stare right through you but now you’ve grown rather used to it. Whatever intimidation and fear he had stirred inside you had long since died.

In all honesty, the long ride had you rather tired. A yawn escaped your lips while you covered your mouth with your hand.

"Rest up Agent." Ghost's voice cut through the monotone sound of the vehicle. "I'll wake you when we get near." With another yawn, you nodded at him and allowed your head to fall back against the seat. Your eyes gently closed and soon sleep consumed you.

The awakening you received was by no means gentle, it was loud, jarring, and the extreme movement jostled you awake. Sleep blinked from your eyes, you couldn't quite comprehend the crash as it happened but it soon registered upon you when you hung upside down. The seat belt kept you up for a moment and your eyes searched for everyone else in the vehicle. Your eyes went to Ghost who was utterly still across you. Could vampires get knocked out? Then your eyes went to the piece of shrapnel that had dug itself into the side of his neck. It was about a third of the way in. You hoped to the gods that he was still alive.

A glance at the front of the vehicle told you that the two men in the front certainly weren't alive. Blood coated the windshield on both sides while their heads were both lodged inside of it. Without hesitation, you unbuckled yourself and fell to the ground with a grunt. The crumbled glass didn't do any damage to you, protected by your jacket. You crawled over to Ghost in the mangled wreck where your hands went for the piece of shrapnel.

It was certainly lodged in there and you mentally prayed that it hadn’t done enough damage to kill him. The piece took a decent amount of strength but you managed to lodge it free. You flinched for a moment, expecting a spray of blood but nothing came. You didn't know if that was good or bad.

For a second you stared at it and then slowly but surely, the skin started to knit itself together just around the corners. A breath of relief left your mouth as you quickly unbuckled him. Ghost's large figure fell onto the ground in front of you and you started to pull him from the wreck. He was heavy- really heavy.

Perhaps it was because he was so muscular or so tall, perhaps vampires just weighed more but he was extremely heavy. Still, you managed to drag him out despite the protest in your arms. Just outside of the vehicle and you paused. Exhaustion consumed you and you wiped away the sweat from your head. When you went to grab him again, you noticed your hand was painted slightly with a thin line of blood. You swallowed and put your hand back up to your head to touch the wet spot.

No wonder why you felt so tired. Your hand fumbled around and found a bandage on your person which you used to wrap around your head. It wasn't an amazing job but it would certainly help. Your eyes went back to Ghost. He was still so frozen and the healing around the wound had stopped. Perhaps it was focusing on the deeper part of the wound? You hoped he had recently fed, the boys normally did before they went out but Ghost was always an unknown entity. You could feel yourself become rather drowsy which wasn't good when you heard voices in the distance.

Your hands went to try and grab Ghost but your arms refused to drag him anymore. Not in your current state. Unconsciousness was going to come for you and you only had a little amount of time to act. You knew that if they saw you alive they would kill you, whoever was approaching most likely caused the crash. It had to be an ambush.

So to your great displeasure, you reluctantly let go of Ghost. Slowly but surely you moved away from him into the bushes and trees. Not too far away you slumped down against the trunk of a tree and allowed foliage and a nearby bush to hide your location. Your head throbbed and you covered your mouth. If any of them were vampires, you would be dead the instant they heard your heartbeat but if they were human you had a chance.

Every second you stayed there felt like a lifetime. Eventually, the men approached the wreck and you listened as they mumbled to each other. You leaned over for just a second to see two stand over Ghost. The gunfire didn't make you flinch but a piece of you died as one fired a shot dead centre into Ghost's brain. Your head snapped back from the sight just enough time for your dizziness to overtake you and your vision to go black.

When you awoke the men were long gone. A surge of life left you feeling a bit more refreshed while the bandage had dried to your head. You got up from your hiding spot and scoured the area for any sign of life. You noticed whatever supplies that had fallen from the vehicle were gone, most likely taken by them.

The dirt in the air had long since settled down. It had been a while since they left. Thankfully they didn't bother to come looking for you, most likely they thought everyone died in the crash. They certainly made sure of it with the double tap to Ghost's head- or so they thought. You approached his body. Aside from the hole in his mask, he looked exactly the same. Laswell's words echoed in your mind. Complete unrepairable damage to the heart or removal of the head.

Surely he was still alive? Right?

“Dude lives probably hundreds of years then dies on my watch." You mumbled as you moved his head about, examining it. Beneath his head lay the bullet lodged into the ground. It had gone all the way through. "Laswell's gonna kill me."

You paused and sat back for a moment, your eyes roamed over his still body. There was only one way to jump-start his body, to heal. However, you had already lost a bit of blood from your head injury. Hopefully however long you were out for was enough to replenish yourself. Your hand wandered to your dagger and flexed your grip on the handle before you unsheathed it.

With a swallow, you dragged it across your left palm. The sting had you cringe but you bit down on the edge of your lip and continued. Your eyes went to Ghost. His mouth was covered. Of course it was, he wore that mask everywhere. The dagger was placed on the ground next to him and you curled the mask up just enough to expose his mouth. Aside from the light scars that decorated the bottom of his face, he looked fairly normal. They were quite hard to see as well. You could only see them due to how the sun hit them. With your wounded hand, you raised it above his mouth and clenched your fist closed and blood started to stream down into his mouth. The pain had you wince and your hand shook slightly and the bottom of your fist brushed against his lips. Slowly but surely you swore his lips part slightly more.

Then in a movement you couldn't possibly comprehend, his hand snatched out at your wrist and pulled your hand towards his face. Due to your surprise, your fist unballed and slapped against his mouth. Ghost's eyes were still closed but you felt the sharp deep pain of what felt like two thin needles piercing into your skin. His soft lips latched onto your skin and started to suck hard.

"Ghost." You whispered and you felt it, the pressure he pulled your life from your body. He was taking it, as much as he could and fast. It dawned upon you that he wasn't going to stop. You pulled on his grip but had little effect as his grip was locked tight.

"Ghost, stop. Fuck, stop." Your voice was desperate as your head started to rush. Dizziness mixed with lightheadedness washed over you as a wave and you could feel your body start to falter. "Simon please." You whimpered and suddenly his eyes flung open. Piercing sharp he sat up at an inhuman speed. The wound from his head had healed as well as the one in his neck.

Your wrist was pulled away from his lips and he seemed a little dazed. His eyes searched your surroundings and eventually settled on you with narrow eyes. "Well, at least Laswell won't skin me." You mumbled under your breath and he let go of your wrist like it burnt him.

"Thanks for stopping, big guy." You winced and his eyes went to your now closed fist again.

"I bit you."

"Uh-huh." You avoided his gaze and started to look for any more of your bandages. "Fuck, don't tell me I didn't bring more."

"What do you need?"

"Bandages to stop the bleeding."

"The holes from my bite are small enough to clot by itself." Your eyes rose to meet his. Did he think he bit you without warning? You opened your hand to reveal the slice that ran across.

"...You weren't healing." He didn't reply right away, just silently stared at your hand for a moment before he got a bandage from his pouch. Ghost took your hand with a gentleness that surprised you and started to wrap your wound.

"Your head. How bad is it?"

"I passed out from it earlier. I didn't have the strength to pull you away from the wreck more before they came."

"Who?"

"Russians." He pulled the bandage tight and secured it before he started to look at your head.

"This needs to be redressed."

"Are you a medic Lieutenant?"

"Know my way around the human body."

"Yeah, I bet you do." You hadn't meant for your words to sound so suggestive but he cocked a brow regardless. "Uh-"

Before you could apologise he started to unwrap your work. You winced at the feeling as it ripped away the dried blood and reopened the wound slightly.

"You lost a lot of blood. Shouldn't have been giving me any." He pulled the canteen from his hip and started to clean it. Water mixed with blood ran down your face and your eyes shut while he worked.

"Ha- do the words 'skinned alive' mean anything to you? It's what Laswell would do to me if I didn't come back with you."

"If I hadn't woken up I would have drained you."

"Yeah, that would have put a thorn in my weekend plans. Shit happens I guess though."

His eyes met yours. "I would have killed you."

"Yeah."

"Most people would be upset about that."

"I made my decision, gotta live with whatever consequences that happens. You didn't kill me, which is super cool." The fresh bandage was secured around your head and he pulled back and pulled his mask back down.

"You should learn some preservation skills."

"Wouldn't have taken this job if I had any." You thought he would scowl you again but he didn't. A light chuckle rumbled from his throat.

"Just as bad as Johnny is. Do you have any other wounds or do I need to strip you down?"

Your face grew hot at the thought and your eyes widened slightly. "As tempting as the thought is. I'm good. Maybe another time?" Despite your confident words, they came out more like a squeak and he seemed. But amused at your response.

"Another time then. Come on, the sun has almost finished setting. We need to set somewhere for you to sleep."

#ghost x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #cod #mw2 x reader #mw2

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summerwritesfics · 4 months ago

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🗺️For Hope I’d Give My Everything

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 2272 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Fantasy AU, Violence, Fights, Bombs, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Baby!Takeda Takahashi, Warrior!Hanzo Hasashi, Thief!Kuai Liang, Attempted Kidnapping, Kuai Liang is AMBB (Assigned mom by baby) AU-Gust 2024 Day 9: Accidental Child Acquisition

AU-Gust 2024 Masterlist

Notes: Don’t you hate it when you go to rob a guy and end up accidentally adopting a baby with him instead? NGL to you guys, this is the one I’ve been most excited to share since I wrote it 😂 Mostly because this is actually one of my favourite tropes and I’m super surprised I’ve never really written it until now lol. I might continue this if only because I want to write Mama Bear Kuai Liang. I’m still ill but I think I’m on the way to recovery now. At the very least, I’m not coughing quite as much as I was yesterday. :) Title is from Nemo by Nightwish.

Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this position.

One minute, he was living alone in the forest. A lonely but peaceful life, where he went down to the town maybe once a month to replenish his supplies. It was far from his past life as a warrior, but it was what he needed after Harumi and Satoshi’s deaths.

Then, everything changed. He awoke to the sound of a baby crying, finding little Takeda in a basket on his doorstep. And before he could even consider what he was going to do with the child, his home was attacked and he’d had to flee.

He had no idea what The Red Dragon wanted with this child, but he knew he could not let them have him.

His current plan was to get to the Sky Temple. The Thunder God, Lord Raiden, owed him a favour from some past actions. Taking in this child and helping to protect him seemed like a fair reason to cash that favour in. The trouble was getting there. It was a long journey from where he had been living, and he couldn’t trust anyone right now, so finding reliable transport was out. He just had to make do moving town to town, doing odd jobs along the way to keep the baby fed.

This cliffside path was not an ideal spot to walk along. It was narrow, and even walking closest to the cliff wall was far too close to the edge. Still, it was the only way past this particular mountain range, he had no other choices. That didn’t even account for the weird feeling that someone was watching him.

Takeda began to fuss in his arms, and he bounced the child slightly. “Shh, little one. We won’t be here long.”

He was cut off by a strange rumbling sound. A small rock came tumbling down from above. Luckily, it was a little way in front and didn’t hit them. But something about it made Hanzo’s hair’s stand on edge. He glanced up the cliff, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

A figure was crouching on a small ledge.

Instinct took over, Hanzo turning to find a small crevice in the cliff. He quickly placed Takeda inside, but wasn’t able to do much else before he found something hitting him at full force. Even though he fell to the ground, he raised his fist and punched, hearing a gruff groan. He found the chance to pull his legs up, kicking the person off him. As he jumped up to his feet, readying his katana, he saw them skid across the floor.

The figure stood up, revealing himself to Hanzo. He was… surprisingly short if Hanzo was being honest, wearing a fur lined cloak, and holding a hunting knife in his hand. He had short hair, a trim beard and a long scar over his right eye. But what was most intriguing were his eyes, one a deep brown and the other a bright icy blue. He didn’t ponder it too long, pointing his katana at the man who readied his knife.

“Give me all your money and whatever item you hid in that hole,” the man growled, swiping his knife as some form of threat. There was a slight relief that the man seemed to just be a common thief rather than a Red Dragon grunt. Still, Hanzo wouldn’t just give in, not when he had Takeda to protect.

“I'd recommend you back down now and find someone else to rob, thief,” Hanzo hissed, baring his teeth. “I will not back down.”

“Then you are a fool.”

The thief ran forward, slashing his knife at Hanzo. He jumped backwards, holding up his katana to defend himself. Using his weight to push the thief away, Hanzo attempted to strike. The attack was blocked, but that didn’t stop Hanzo from slashing again, and again. The thief stumbled trying to keep up with his attacks. Eyes widening as if he realised he’d made a mistake.

Too late for you to regret it now.

Hanzo heard something falling down the cliff again. He didn’t pay much attention to it, until he heard a beeping. The thief and him shared a look, where they were both trying to figure out if the other was responsible. Then, in tandem, their heads turned to where the beeping was coming from.

Down by their feet, lay a small bomb, flashing red.

“Shit-”

Before Hanzo could dive away, the bomb went off, knocking him backwards. He hit the floor hard, and groaned at the way his body cracked. When he felt around, he realised to his amazement he was still on the path.

He sat up, noting that the part of the path he’d previously been stood at had crumbled, leaving only a drop below. The thief was on the other side of the gap, lying on the ground, and Hanzo hissed when he realised that was also the side Takeda was on.

Someone came zipping down the cliff, landing on that side of the pathway and Hanzo snarled.

“Mavado,” Hanzo screamed as he stumbled to his feet. Mavado responded with a chuckle, recalling the ribbons he’d used to scale down the cliff.

“Looks like this is where you say goodbye to the brat, Mr. Hasashi,” Mavado smugly told him, walking over to the hole and pulling a crying Takeda from it.

“Don’t you dare,” Hanzo roared storming forward. The path crumbled further, stopping him in his tracks.

“And what else do we have here?” Mavado walked over to the thief, using his foot to kick him onto his back. Mavado smirked as he looked over the man's form. “The last Lin Kuei. Well, I have two for two, now don’t I?”

Lin Kuei? That clan had been hunted down many years ago. Hanzo found it unbelievable anyone could have survived that level of persecution.

The Lin Kuei looked up at Mavado before spitting out “go to hell.”

“Is there really any need for such hostility, Kuai Liang?” Mavado pressed his foot down hard on the man's chest, making him wheeze. “Lord Daegon will be so pleased to see you.”

With Mavado distracted, Hanzo decided this was his chance. He took a few steps back, and began to run again. Once his foot hit right by the edge, he leapt, and all that was going through his head was the hope he’d make it and he wouldn’t fall to his death.

As his feet thankfully hit the floor, he darted forward, knocking Mavado off balance. Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for Mavado letting go of Takeda in shock. The baby was thrown off towards the cliff’s edge. To his surprise however, Kuai Liang managed to dart to his feet, throwing himself towards the edge and catching Takeda in his arms.

Hanzo was forced to return his attention to Mavado however, when the other man attempted to punch him. He dodged, before forcing his elbow into Mavado’s face. As he stumbled back, Hanzo turned to see where Takeda was, only to find Kuai Liang gone. He went cold, thinking that the thief had absconded with him.

Until he noticed fingers clinging to the edge of the cliff.

A black blur from the corner of his eye yet again prevented him from going to their aid. He once more managed to pull back, grabbing his katana and striking Mavado in his stomach. The man made a pained gasp, skidding to a stop and staring down at himself. Red began pouring from his midsection. He looked disgusted for a second, before taking a step backwards.

“Damn you,” he hissed, before throwing his hands up towards the top of the cliff. The elastic ribbons caught something up there, and he prepared to jump. Hanzo wasn’t able to catch him before he zoomed up the side of the cliff. All he could do was stand and watch Mavado disappear.

His head snapped back around, remembering that Kuai Liang and Takeda were still in danger. Except the fingers were now gone.

“No,” he whispered as he rushed to the edge and peered down. His eyes widened at what he saw.

Kuai Liang, glowing blue and floating in the air, holding Takeda to his chest and wearing an extremely confused look on his face.

“What the-” Hanzo whispered, but put that aside when he noticed Kuai Liang was starting to ascend.

He floated back up to the edge, before settling to sit on the path. The blue glow disappeared, and Kuai Liang still looked like he had no idea what just happened.

“You’re a telepath?” Hanzo questioned, wondering if that were the case, why he wouldn’t have used those powers sooner. But when Kuai Liang looked at him like he’d grown a second head, he realised this was not the Lin Kuei’s doing.

“No. No I-” He paused, before shifting slightly and staring down at Takeda, who happily babbled in his arms. “I’m not a telepath.” The implication was clear. But if it was right, then it brought up even more questions. “Um. Why exactly is the Red Dragon after your son?”

“I don’t know. Or at least I didn’t. This might explain it.” And if that was the case, Hanzo actually had a friend who was a telepath, for as rare as they were. But he swore to god, if Kenshi had anything to do with all of this, he would fucking kill the man for dumping him into it. “And he isn’t my son.”

“Wait.” Kuai Liang pushed himself up to his feet, looking at Hanzo with a raised eyebrow. “So you’re just journeying with a random kid that isn’t yours?”

“He was left on my doorstep, and then the Red Dragon attacked,” Hanzo explained with a huff, feeling like he was being judged for something that wasn’t his fault. “I’m trying to get to the Sky Temple to see if they can help.”

“Good luck with that,” Kuai muttered bitterly under his breath. Hanzo understood his scepticism, a man whose people had been persecuted to the levels The Lin Kuei had been would have no reason to believe in the Gods. Still Kuai held out Takeda to Hanzo to take him.

The second that Takeda was returned to Hanzo’s arms, he began to absolutely bawl his eyes out. Hanzo bounced him, desperately trying to calm the child down. His eyes were shut tightly, but his little hands were reaching back in Kuai’s direction. Not only that, but Kuai’s legs were glowing blue, keeping them basically bound together and preventing him from leaving.

Takeda doesn’t want him to go. It was weird, and honestly, Hanzo couldn’t help but feel a little bit insulted. I’ve been protecting you for weeks now, but this guy throws himself off a cliff once to save you and he’s all you want. He knew that was a jealous and ultimately very petty line of thought though. Maybe Takeda sensed something in this man that Hanzo couldn’t.

“Right, fine,” Hanzo huffed, passing the baby back to Kuai Liang, whose eyes widened to a comical degree. But as Hanzo suspected, Takeda immediately stopped crying, and the blue glow faded. “Take the baby. You’re coming with us.”

“Wait. What?” Kuai exclaimed looking between Hanzo and Takeda.

“The baby’s chosen you,” he claimed, wandering around the area and making sure he wasn’t missing anything. “Therefore, you have to come with us, I don’t make the rules.”

“I just tried to rob you, and you’re trusting me with a baby?” Kuai questioned, like somehow Hanzo was the unreasonable one in this situation.

“I’m not trusting you with the baby, but Takeda sure seems to trust you for some reason.” He shook his head as he returned his katana to its hold. “Besides, you wanted my money and whatever was in the crevice, this way you get both.”

“I didn’t think what you’d hidden was a baby, I thought it was treasure or something,” Kuai claimed in an exacerbated tone. His eyes flicked down to Takeda, who was again making small happy noises to himself and playing with the fur on Kuai’s cape. Despite himself, Kuai smiled down at Takeda. “If I had realised you had a baby with you, I wouldn’t have tried to steal from you at all.”

Hanzo sighed, “look. The way I see it, if you come with us, it'll benefit you as well.” Kuai glanced up just enough as though to demand an explanation. “The Red Dragon are after you too, correct? If you come with us, we can find a way to stop them.”

Kuai was silent for a few seconds, before his gaze landed on Takeda again. His expression softened, bringing Takeda up close to rest their foreheads together. Kuai closed his eyes, and let out a breath.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll come with you.” He pulled Takeda away. “You’re very lucky you’re so cute.”

“Excuse me?” Hanzo baulked, feeling his face go hot.

Kuai looked at him incredulously, “I was talking to the baby.”

Hanzo paused, and cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.”

He didn’t say anymore, just started to walk off, hearing Kuai Liang giggle as he followed him. He swore he could hear Takeda laughing too. With him being a telepath, how likely was it that he understood more of what was going on than an average baby? He shook his head, that was a ridiculous line of thought. He was better using his mind to map out their road to the Sky Temple.

He just hoped Lord Raiden would be able to offer the salvation that they sought.

#mortal kombat #subscorp #sub zero #kuai liang #scorpion #hanzo hasashi #🗺️au gust 2024

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