#Why couldn’t they just do a blue and red edition where you get all six games in one kart and it’s just the versions separated

[no1ryomafan]

Also because I have the megger men worms again I am once again going to be a bitch about how overpriced the battle network collection is even if I’m glad it sold well because this series desperately needed a huge W but also WHY THE FUCK IS GETTING THE COLLECTIONS NOT IN A BUNDLE MORE WHEN IT SHOULD BE THE SAME PRICE OR LESS *explodes* (If it doesn’t go on sale during thanksgiving I’m gonna lose my fucking mind)

[jungkxook]

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut 

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung​ because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks​ and @stanrandomthings​ for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[awindylife-writes]

Voyage of the Damned Part 3

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die, Astrid dies

"It's for the Doctor!" Astrid yelled at Midshipman Frame over the comms. She needed to teleport NOW. "Y/n and him are down on deck thirty-one, alone, against all the Host and Gods know what else and they're doing it for us!" Silence on the other end. "It's time we did something for them," she ended her speech with a finallity.

A moment passed and she feared she'd failed.

But then, "Giving you power," came through the comms.

~

"Only one person could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like that. And l should know, 'cause..." the Doctor trailed off. You stared at the strange compartment you had found on deck thirty-one.

"My name is Max," a voice finished for him. A strange machine with a head in it came through the smoke.

"Who the hell are you?" it demaned.

"I'm y/n, and this is the Doctor," you pointed at your friend with false cheerfulness, "Hello!" you wiggled your fingers in greeting.

~

"You wreck the ship and the board find their shares halved in value." The Doctor was spelling out Capricorn's plan.

"But that's not enough," you interjected. From what you've learned about them, mad billionares who were losing all their money didn't do things half-way.

"Oh yes,"  the Doctor went on. "'Cause if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet. Outrage back home!" he growled. "Scandal! The buisness is wiped out!"

The billionare's head nodded. "And? The whole board is thrown in jail, for mass murder!" His eyes shone with revenge.

"While you sit here, safe in the- what's it called?" you turned to the Doctor.

"Impact camber," he filled in.

"I have men," Capricorn gloated now, "waiting to retreave me from the ruins. And enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Enhaxico Two where the ladies, so l'm told, are very fond of... metal."

You were going to puke.

"So that's the plan," the Doctor growled in rage. "A retirement plan. Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."

"I never lose," the billionare's head scowled in threat and your voice immediately rang out, mocking, "You can't even sink the Titanic!"

"Oh but l can, pretty girl!" he laughed. "I can cancel the engines, from here!" Red lights and alarms were suddenly flaring everywhere before you could spit in his face.

The Doctor yelled behind you, "You can't do this!"

"Host, hold them!" Caprocorn ordered in turn and began the Gloat 2.0. "Not so clever now, are you? Shame we couldn't work together, you two are rather good. All that banter and yet not a word wasted." The head sighed. "Time for me to... retire."

Ugh, you thought as you furiously tried to get free. That pun alone would be enough to kill a buisness.

"The Titanic is falling, the sky will burn, let the Christmas inferno commence!" Capricorn yelled in victory and called his minions. "Kill them!"

The robots brought up their halos and went for the Doctor's neck.

"NO!" You fought with everything you had but you were late, you'd be too late!

"MISTER CAPRICORN!" a voice you knew cut through your fear.

And it ignited terror. It was Astrid, sitting in a forklift. "I resign," she told the head and drove forward, ful throttle.

"NO!" the Doctor and you screamed, "ASTRID STOP!" "ASTRID DON'T!"

She didn't listen and rammed into the life support system, but its engine was too strong. They were equal and couldn't move each other.

You bit, kicked and screamed, anything to get free.

But then she caught your eyes with hers and everything stopped. There was an eternity in her face. She looked at the Doctor too but you still stared at her.

Then she turned away and stepped on it. The life support lifted and she drove on.

There was no sound. The world was mute as you watched Astrid go over.

You were suddenly at the edge, looking at her disappear into the fire. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and you wanted to calm them, help them.

Then you realized it was your own voice.

The world came back into focus. The ship was falling apart and the Doctor was silent at your side. He was staring at the spot where Astrid had disappeared. His face was pale and his eyes blank. You laid your tears aside and took his hand.

"We need to go," you told him, your voice wet with tears. He didn't move.

"Doctor, we need to go,"  you told him again calmly. You thought that was why he looked at you suddenly, and then stood up.

He rewired a Host with lightning speed. It took you each under one arm and off you went.

When you broke through the ceiling of the bridge, you were still in one piece. Arms you had used to shield your head were a bit bloody and you were sure there were at least two splinters in them. You don't look the gift horse in the mouth, even though you would prefer a different Christmas miracle.

"What's your first name?" the Doctor asked the injured Midshipman Frame.

He answered in confusion, "Alonzo."

"You're kidding," the Doctor breathed as a shocked smile spread on his face. You didn't know. You just didn't know anymore. You were drowing in the emptiness inside you but his name was Alonzo.

"Allons-y, Alonzo!" the Doctor yelled and you held on tight. You didn't scream. You didn't even open your mouth. There was nothing anymore.

The Doctor whoohooed when he managed to right the course of the ship and you were just there. Were you there? Astrid wasn't. And that was what mattered in the end.

~

"TELEPORT!" the Doctor yelled and it didn't matter. "Y/N, SHE WAS WEARING A TELEPORT BRACELET!!!"

That woke you up. You ran faster than ever before, to the main deck where the teleport was.

"Brixton, sonic," the Doctor demanded from the billionare and caught it as it was thrown. "Mister Copper, the teleports, have they got an emergency setting??"

"I don't know, they should have?"

"She fell, Mister Copper, she fell!" the Doctor told him while pulling apart the machine like a madman. "What's the emergency code?"

The billionare interjected, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We can bring her back!" you yelled with everything in you.

The historian explained, "If a passenger has an accident on shore leave, their molecules are automatically suspended so they're in stasis, so if you just trigger the shift..."

"THERE!!!" the Doctor screamed and flicked the switch.

And there was your Astrid.

"Falling..." You could hear her voice!

"Only halfway there, come on!" The Doctor wasn't finished with the teleporter.

"I keep falling!" She was scared. Your friend was scared and you wanted nothing but to calm her. You carefully walked up to her and took hold of her hand. It felt like holding warm smoke.

There were tears on your cheeks already, again.

"If l can find the molecule grid, boost the restoration matrix and-" The computer snapped and threw sparks. "NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!!" the Doctor screamed in desparation, "need more phase containment-"

You sobbed, but you knew what was coming. You just looked at your Astrid Pith, into her crystal blue eyes and sushed her. "Hey, hey Astrid, it's alright. It's me, it's y/n, remember? You're alright. l've got you," you promised with a voice as soft as sunlight.

She didn't look as scared as before. Then, so slowly you thought you were imagining it, she looked at you.

"Let her go," you could hear the historian and you sobbed again.

But then Astrid's voice cut through. "Stop me falling?" she asked and you nodded. You found her gaze with yours and promised her, "Anything."

"She's just atoms," you heard Mister Copper from behind you. "An echo with a ghost of consciousness."

"She's stardust," you concluded as your voice broke. "You hear that Astrid?" you asked, still looking into her blue eyes."You're stardust."

She didn't seem to hear, so you did the only thing you could think of.

"There's an old tradition," you told her and softly kissed her cheek. Then you kissed the other, and then her forehead.

"You dreamt of traveling," the Doctor came to stand beside you. You were still sobbing when you pulled away from her and you didn't try to stop. There was no one there you needed to save face for.

"Now you can travel forever," you told her. You knew what the Doctor would do, and your eyes didn't leave hers for a moment.

You heard him soothe her, "You're not falling Astrid."

"You're flying," you both said in one voice.

You watched as she floated away, through the window into the universe.

Then you turned to the Doctor and buried your face in his chest as you both cried.

~

"I transferred all my shares to Max Capricorn's rivals. It's made me rich," the billionare Brixton admitted, disbelieving.

You were empty, and you were tired. That was the only reason why you didn't tear this man limb from limb. Astrid was dead.

"Mister Copper," the Doctor's voice woke you up. "I think, you deserve one of these."

You turned around and saw him holding a teleport bracelet out to the historian. Then, after the latter took it, he slipped one on your wrist. He took your hand and suddenly you were standing in the snow.

~

"But l can have a house, and a garden and-" You couldn't help but smile a little. At least Mister Copper would be alright.

The Doctor yelled after him, "Where are you going?"

"I have no idea!" the man replied in joy.

"Well, we don't either," your alien smiled gently at you and you tried to smile back, you really did. He looked at you, his brown eyes full of sorrow, and pulled you to him. You held onto him tightly as he hugged you.

"But! Y/N!" the historian yelled and you turned in his direction.

"I won't forget her," he promised you. You were tired, so so tired, so you just nodded. "Thank you," you told Mister Copper for her. "We won't either."

"We won't," the Doctor assured you softly, just to be sure.

Then he opened the TARDIS door and stepped into your home after you. You walked up the way and then stood in front of the controls, lost.

The Doctor walked up behind you and decided he would do anything, anything to keep away the blank look in your eyes. He turned to you and pulled you to him again. You let him, your movements sluggish and dazed.

"I've got you," he assured you. "I've got you, y/n. You aren't alone, and you aren't lost. You've got me." And that was enough. You sobbed into his chest, you didn't know for which time today.

But this was different. This was yours, and you clung to the Doctor as everything in you came to the surface.

His tears joined yours. He'd lost Astrid too, and he hated seeing you in pain. He slowly brought both of you down to kneel when you were too tired to stand.

And that was it. That was what you needed and that was what you had. You would be alright. In time, you would be alright.

[tsukishumai]

First Kiss - Tsukishima, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi (Karasuno First Year edition!)

Aoba Johsai Edition

It’s a little long, I have zero self control

Can you tell I love Tsukishima  (｡◕‿◕｡)

TSUKISHIMA - 

Before, you used to spend your days in school with your cousin, Yamaguchi, and his less-than-pleasant-but-ridiculously-good-looking best friend, Tsukishima.  

He was a jerk, to put it lightly, but hey, you can be a jerk too.

“Your hair looks like a damn bird’s nest, and your bow’s all crooked. Did anyone even teach you how to be a girl?” “Did anyone teach you not to be such an insufferable asshole?” “Do you even know what ‘insufferable’ means?” “Uh, yeah, it means Tsukishima Kei.”

Yamaguchi regrets ever introducing you two.

Things may have started like that, but it wasn’t long before the biting tone in Tsukishima’s words was replaced by something more playful, each remark followed by a smile. He started walking you to your classes, saving you a seat next to him during lunch, even going so far as to share music with you. (He’ll never show you the playlist he’s made of all the songs you’ve recommended.)

But that was before. Now, you were doing your best not to melt under Tsukishima’s heated gaze, paying no attention to the golden brown eyes that have followed you around for days.

The bell rang to signal the end of class, and you quickly gathered all your things, throwing them haphazardly into your bag, and running out before Tsukishima could get to your desk.

You got to your locker in record time, quickly changing out of your school shoes so you could start your trek home. Usually, you would wait for Yamaguchi and Tsukki to get out of practice but… this was better for you. 

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped at the voice that was suddenly right behind you, knowing exactly who would be there if you turned around, so you didn’t.

“Don’t you have volleyball practice?” “That’s beside the point.” “Avoiding you? I haven’t been –“ “I’m not a dumbass, so don’t play games with me. You’re avoiding me. Why?”

You gulped, gripping the school bag that hung off your shoulder until your knuckles turned white. You wanted to lie, but there’s no point. Tsukishima was always able to see right through you.

“I heard you tell Tadashi that you liked someone…” “… So?”

You tried to pretend that your heart didn’t just crumple up like a piece of paper. “SO! I didn’t want to ruin your chances; she might get the wrong idea if she sees us together all the time.”

He scoffed. “That is the single most idiotic thing I’ve seriously ever heard. Did you hit your head as a kid?”

You could feel your face turn red, anger beginning to bubble in your throat. You finally turn around to face Tsukishima, ready to give him a snarky comment. “No, YOU’RE the single most idiotic thing –“

The words died on your tongue, muffled by Tsukishima leaning down and pressing his own lips onto yours. 

He pulled back, and couldn’t help but smirk at your flushed appearance.

“I was talking about you. Stupid.”

KAGEYAMA –

You had always found it extremely fun to mess with Kageyama Tobio

The boy was a genius when it came to volleyball; but maybe that’s where his genius ends.

It didn’t escape your attention that he would get flustered every time you smiled at him, or that his friends would tease him whenever you walked by, or that it was him dropping off a juice box and melon bread on your desk every morning with a note that says “have a good day.”

You enjoyed it; the way you could make him short circuit just by giving him a hug, the crimson on his face when he catches your eye from the court, and the deer-in-headlights look he gave you when you confessed your feelings.

You were never one to make the first move, sometimes wondering why you did it for Karasuno’s genius setter, but you’re reminded when you feel the shiver in his body as you slide your hand into his, and you see the sweet look in his eyes when you ask him to walk you to class.

You didn’t mind that you had to initiate most of the affection if it meant you got to see the blush that Kageyama always tried to hide.

Today, you found yourself in the perfect position to mess with him. The two of you were having a movie night, and even though you shared the same blanket, Kageyama was sitting on the other end of the couch like a perfect gentleman.

“Tobio,” you whined, “I want to cuddle.”

You didn’t even give the poor guy a chance to reply before crawling from your side of the couch, and situating yourself on his lap, arms reaching up around him as you buried your face into his neck.

You could feel Kageyama’s entire body stiffen, steam practically beginning to come out of his ears. 

Laughter threatened to spill from your lips, so you decided you’ve done enough to the guy, and started to make your way off until you felt two strong arms snake around your waist.

You lifted your head to face Kageyama in surprise, but your breath was caught in your throat when you noticed the look he was giving you. 

It was like slow motion – Kageyama’s head lowered and your eyes fluttered close before you felt the velvety soft pressure of his lips against yours.

Omg d-did he just kiss you?!

Now it was your turn to be flustered. The corner of Kageyama’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly, and his hold around you tightened, causing the pink tint of your cheeks to deepen into crimson. 

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

HINATA –

Everything. Was. Going. Wrong.

This was not how Hinata imagined your first date together would go!

Do you have any idea how long Hinata has been waiting to ask you out? Ever since he met you at National’s last year, he’s been planning this day. 

You were beautiful, funny, and you could teach him (more than) a thing or two about volleyball? *Chef’s Kiss*

When you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he thought he was dreaming. He knew he had to make it the best date ever.

He definitely didn’t go to the bathroom six times the morning of.

There was a summer festival that weekend, and he figured it would be the perfect place to take you on your first date.

Ten minutes in, Hinata had spilled Kakigori all over his Yukata. He had been in the middle of beating himself up about it when you reached over and dabbed at the stain with a napkin, laughing at his clumsiness.

An hour in, Hinata had spent nearly all his money trying to win you a stuffed animal to no avail. (You got it yourself in one try.)

Two hours in, Hinata had accidentally stepped on your obi, ripping the delicate material. He wanted to die right then and there, but you insisted it was old, and you were planning to get a new one anyway.

Just as Hinata thought he would redeem himself by taking you on the Ferris wheel, he found out that he got motion sickness, and you ended up having to rub his back, while he fought the urge to hurl the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once the two of you exited the metal death trap, sitting him on a bench, “I swear I had planned for this day to be much better.”

“What do you mean? I had a great time,” you said, and Hinata gave you a look that clearly said he didn’t believe you. You just laughed. “Hinata, when we first met, you threw up on my shoes. Today was a big improvement.”

He laughed. “Still – I wanted you to have a cooler memory of me.”  

“You don’t have to try so hard,” you giggled, “I came here because I like you.” 

Just then, the sky lit up with different colors of reds, greens, and blues; dancing together to create a pattern that illuminated your face in a way that made Hinata’s heart race.

You smiled then, sitting beside him on the bench and laying your head on his shoulder. “At least we have these fireworks.”

It was there, on a random bench under the glow of summer time, that you shared your first sweet kiss with Hinata Shoyo.

YAMAGUCHI -

 Enter Yamaguchi Tadashi; Captain of Karasuno Volleyball Club, Pinch Server, and all-around good guy.

He’d like to think he was a completely different person now; no longer the shy, timid first year that was stuck on the bench while his classmates shone on the court.

Now, he was in charge, and one needed to have all the confidence in the world if they had to keep his demon classmates in line.

But all that confidence just went down the drain whenever you were around.

“Good morning, Yamaguchi-kun!” “Oh, hey! Hi, yeah, it’s a good morning right? Aha, the homework last night was pretty hard, right? Haha..ha.”

“I watched your game last night, Yamaguchi-kun! You were amazing, I couldn’t take my eyes off you!” “Wha - Ah - Haha, that was nothing, just -  it was, uhm, the team they helped ahaha, I – Thank you?”

“Dude…” Tsukki would say, “What the hell just happened to you?”

Naturally, his friends got sick and tired of seeing him turn into a dumbass around you, so they decided to take matters into their own hands. 

Yamaguchi should have known what the boys were up to when they decided they wanted to throw a party after the game. As captain, he probably should have spoken against it, but he was also feeling pretty high from the win, and wanted to let loose. 

How they managed to trap him in this closet with you was beyond him. He thinks he heard the words “7 minutes in heaven” but the beers were making everything move too fast, and your proximity was more intoxicating than anything he drank that night.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, and he felt like he was drowning. More than a few minutes passed, neither of you moving. The tension was rising, and Yamaguchi didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Y/N-san, you don’t have to –“ “Yamaguchi-kun, I like you.”

He froze, mouth hanging open. He watched as your gaze lowered, fiddling with your thumbs as you took a step back, and he instantly missed the closeness.

“I’m sorry, this was stupid. Tsukishima-san told me this would be a good idea, but I can see that I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m just going to –“

You felt Yamagachi’s warm hands on either side of your face, catching you off guard before he pulled you in and locked his lips onto yours. Your hands instantly moved up to wrap around his middle, and you lost yourself in the softness of his movements.

He pulled away, making a mental note to thank his idiot friends when you beamed up at him with a smile that blew him away. “I… I like you, too.”

A/N - This one is for @valiantrevolt​ !

[babybluebex]

Hi, i was wondering if you could write something where Sebastian Stan is a dad to a little boy and the one who always reads to him before bed, but one night Seb is very tired after shooting, and reader is the one putting him to bed, but the little one refuses to go to sleep until Seb reads to him.

Sorry for my bad Engish, it's not my first languaje. Also, if you don't want to write this I totally understand. 🥰

no! i love the idea!! i tweaked it a bit to fit an idea i was already writing, so i hope you liked what i did with it :) and ur english is perfect my love

goodnight, sleep tight [sebastian stan x reader]

➽ pairing: dad!sebastian stan x fem!reader( y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: see above! ➽ warnings: mentions of postpartum depression, angst ➽ a/n: the image of seb in bucky’s costume, getting a little baby to fall asleep makes me go uwu

“Are you guys coming to set today?” Sebastian asked, pressing a kiss to my head. 

“I’ll see if Andy wants to,” I mumbled with a yawn. My husband’s call time was six AM, which was so much earlier than I ever wanted to be awake, so he usually woke me up with a goodbye kiss. “I think we can manage it, though.” 

“Ah, well,” Sebastian shrugged. “He’s barely a year old. I think he’ll like it.” 

“But he’s also your son,” I countered. 

“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked. Even in the dark of the room, I could see the happy glint in his blue eyes. 

“He’s stubborn,” I said. “Won’t do anything if he doesn’t want to.” 

“That’s not a ‘me’ thing,” Sebastian told me. “That’s a Romanian thing. We’re stubborn people.” 

“Regardless,” I sighed. “I think he might be scared of the costume. The mask and the arm and all; it might be a bit much.” 

“He’ll be able to tell it’s me,” Sebastian said. “Kids are like dogs, they can recognize people by smell. Right?” 

“Maybe your smell,” I chuckled, my throat dry from the night of sleep. “Mr. Bucket-Of-KY-Jelly.” 

“That was uncalled for,” Sebastian chuckled. He leaned over the bed, bracing his left hand next to me head, and I turned to fully look at him. “I smell great.” 

“When you shower, you do,” I said, scrunching my nose, and Sebastian laughed deep in his chest. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, giving me the gentlest of kisses. Sebastian wasn’t usually a gentle creature-- his kisses usually left me with bruised and puffy lips or marks littering my neck and breasts-- but, in the morning, he was so soft and sweet. 

“We’ll continue this later,” Sebastian said. His long hair fell into his face, and I tenderly pushed it behind his ear. Adjusting to the new everything that Seb required for this film was an experience; the long hair, the stubble, and the weight training was grueling for all three of us, especially little Andrei. He missed his daddy dearly, but Sebastian always made up for lost time with nightly tummy-time and stories. Andrei James Stan had loved his dad since before he was born-- the little bastard always kicked up a storm when Sebastian rubbed my belly or talked to me-- and, when he was gone filming something for a long time, Andy got a little upset and overly clingy. Call it separation anxiety or just plain missing his daddy, but Sebastian always made it up to Andy with a special Daddy/Andy night (which also gave me the opportunity to be by myself for a while). 

“I hope not too much later,” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss me again. “I miss you, Seb.” 

“I know, baby,” Sebastian whispered as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I miss you too. Maybe we can get a babysitter or something on Sunday.”

“Great idea,” I said. “Now, you gotta go or you’ll be late.” 

“Ugh,” Sebastian groaned. 

“Go!” I giggled. “My big super-soldier. You gotta show everyone what you’re made of.” 

Just as I spoke, from across the room, Andy made a squealing noise in his crib. The trailer we were living in while Sebastian shot Winter Soldier was a bit small, but it worked perfectly. “Oh, really?” Sebastian said, turning his head to look at Andy. “And what do you think I’m made of, mister?” 

Sebastian moved to his crib as I turned on the lamp, and I watched Sebastian, all muscles and beard and long hair, reach into the crib and pull his infant son into his arms. Andy was born premature, so he was still pretty small, and it made my heart melt. His fluffy hair was in-between a blond and a brown, sorta like how Sebastian’s hair was when he was little, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes. “Really?” Sebastian playfully grimaced, nuzzling his nose against Andy’s. “I think you’re made of yogurt and farts, young man.” 

“Seb!” I snorted. “Don’t say that to him!”

“He is, though!” Sebastian laughed, Andy’s little fist tightening around a lock of his hair. “I don’t see you denying it.” 

“Don’t say our son’s made of farts,” I protested, getting out of bed. “He’s made of wonderful things, like love and kindness--” 

“And yogurt,” Sebastian added. 

“And yogurt,” I acquiesced. Andy did eat a lot of yogurt. “Speaking of, is the little monster hungry? Is that why you’re up so early?” 

Andy nodded, patting his tummy, and Sebastian gave him to me. “Have a good day today, babies,” Sebastian told me, kissing my forehead, then brushing Andy’s hair back and kissing his soft head. “Just text me when you’re coming by.” 

“Sure thing.” 

“This is Sebastian’s baby?” 

Scarlet held Andy in a tender embrace, gazing at him with surprise. She was looking at him with a look of wonderment, like she couldn’t believe that Sebastian of all people could be capable of producing another human being. Nobody on the cast had properly met Andy yet, hence why Andy and I visiting set was such a big deal. “Looks just like him,” she added. 

“Acts like him too,” I chuckled. “Stubborn as hell and eats everything in sight.” 

“Damn, this really is his kid,” Scarlet laughed, and Andy thumped his head down onto her shoulder. “He’s so sweet.”

Andy smiled at Scarlet and gave a happy squeal, and Scarlet turned to face me. “Who’s that?” She asked in a gentle voice, and Andy’s smile turned to me. 

“Mama!” He exclaimed, reaching for me, and Scarlet and I laughed. 

“Smart as hell,” Scarlet added. 

“That comes from me,” I chuckled. Andy took a fistful of my shirt and started to chew on the fabric, but I was used to it. He was teething and chewed on everything; most of my shirts were a little frayed from him. 

“Mean,” said Sebastian from behind me, and I turned and gave a gasp of surprise. I hadn’t ever seen him in full costume before, and it was a shock at first. A leather vest and tight dark jeans, tactical gear everywhere, and a dark mask obscuring the bottom half of his face. And, of course, covering his left arm, a cast-like structure that looked like silver metal with a red star on his shoulder. The arm was covered in little orange dots-- I’m assuming to assist in mo-cap during editing-- and he wore a leather glove on his left hand. 

“Jesus God,” I laughed. “Scared the hell outta me. You look good, babes.” 

“I know,” Sebastian told me, and I knew that he was smirking at me under the mask. “You look beautiful too.” 

“Not really,” I said. “I’m not even wearing makeup.” 

“Still beautiful,” he said, and he reached up and tugged the mask off. He leaned down and, cradling my cheek in his gloved hand, gently kissed my lips. “And the little rascal?” 

“Mm,” I hummed, breaking the kiss. “He’s sleepy. Getting cranky and all.” 

“Has he eaten?” 

“Just did,” I told him. “Before you ask, yes, it was yogurt. But I also gave him some of those blueberry puffy crackers.” 

“Did you save any for me?” Sebastian asked, his eyebrows raising. 

“In my pocket,” I replied. Sebastian and I had quickly discovered that certain baby foods were delicious, especially the fruit-flavored puffy crackers that Andy favored, and I always ended up bringing some with me wherever I went. 

“I know that you’re not eating baby food,” Scarlet laughed as Sebastian reached into my pocket and extracted the plastic bag of star-shaped crackers. 

“They’re good as hell,” Sebastian said, popping a handful into his mouth. “Want one?” 

“I’ll pass,” Scarlet laughed. 

“Ask Mackie, I’m sure he’ll tell you the same,” Sebastian said. Then, he turned his attention back to me. “I could read him a quick story to get him down, if you want.” 

I shrugged. “If you really want to,” I said. 

“Alright, stinker,” Sebastian said, exchanging the crackers for Andy. “Did you bring a book?” 

“Shit, no,” I mumbled. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh, c’mon, man,” I sighed as Scarlet laughed. I frequently forgot that Andy was at the stage where he was repeating things that he heard, and usually Sebastian and I were good about not cussing, because Andy would repeat it for the rest of time. “Don’t expose me like this.” 

“I can come up with a story,” Sebastian said through stifled laughter. “Let’s find a place to get comfy, huh, mister? A nice chair, maybe? I bet Uncle Chris has a really nice chair we can settle in…” 

As he walked away, I felt a presence behind me. I had briefly met Chris at the First Avenger premiere a few years ago, when Sebastian and I weren’t even properly dating yet, but Sebastian and I had eloped, hence no wedding to see him at. “Hey, Evans,” I said and gave him a quick fist bump. 

“Where’re they going?” Chris asked, munching at an orange. 

“To steal your chair in the shade,” I said. “Andy’s getting sleepy and only sleeps when Seb reads him a story.” 

“Cute,” Chris said. “Ya know, Sebastian never shuts up about the two of you.”

“Really?” I asked. “Like, what does he say?”

“Just little stories,” Chris said. “Something you said, or something Andy did. Or just the quick little ‘we had this for dinner’ or ‘we watched this movie last night’. He adores you two.” 

“That’s nice,” I said softly. “I always worry if he’s getting sick of having these two lives. It must be a lot for him.” 

“I can’t read minds,” Chris said. “But I don’t think he could ever get sick of you.”

I nodded slowly. “I was diagnosed with postpartum depression after Andy was born,” I started quietly. “I was so anxious that I wasn’t sleeping, I couldn’t stop crying, I… I even thought about packing a bag and leaving and not coming back. It was so fucking hard, and I thought for sure that Sebastian would ask for a divorce or something. I guess I’m still a little worried about that. But that’s… That’s really helpful, Chris. Thanks.” 

I tried to contain my tears, but Chris must have seen through my crumbling facade, because he wrapped me in a tight hug. “You’re so strong, Y/N,” he whispered. “Know that I’m proud of you, and Scar, and Mackie, and all of us, but especially Sebastian. Man, he fucking loves you so much. There’s nothing that you could do that would make him hate you or want to divorce you. I don’t know much about your relationship, but I know that.” 

I was glad I wasn’t wearing makeup, because I knew that it would be smeared across my cheeks by now. It was one thing to hear it from Sebastian, but from an outsider like Chris, it meant the world. “Thanks,” I whispered. “That means so fucking much.” 

“And, hey, I kinda know how it goes with a baby,” Chris began. “My sisters have kids, and I’ve played babysitter plenty of times. And I’d say I’m pretty good at it. No complaints so far. So, if you ever need a babysitter to get a break for a night, I’d love to help.” 

“That would be so nice,” I sighed into his shoulder. “Not to be TMI…” I paused to let him stop me, but his hand comfortingly ran up my back. “It’s been a while since it was just… Me and Seb, ya know what I mean?”

“I do,” Chris said. “You have my number.” 

I nodded and detached myself from Chris, and I chuckled as I wiped my face dry. “I’m gonna go find my boys,” I said. “Thanks for that, man.”

“Anytime, Mrs. Stan,” Chris said with a smile. 

It wasn’t hard to find Sebastian and Andrei. They were settled in a canvas chair under a tarp shade, with Andy’s little head resting on his shoulder. He seemed like he was already out like a light. “... So Steve is like ‘Bucky?’ and Bucky looks at his friend and he says ‘Who the hell is Bucky?’, which is not that good. Because Bucky should know who Steve is, right?” 

“Are you telling him spoilers for the movie?” I asked, putting my hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“It’s the only story I could come up with on the spot,” Sebastian said. “But he seems to like it… Or not like it. Does it mean he thinks it’s boring if he falls asleep during it?” 

“I think it means that he loves you,” I said. “And he finds comfort in you, even when you look like that.”

“Look like what?” Sebastian asked. When I didn’t answer and only gave him a playful smile, he said, “When I look like what, Y/N Stan?” 

“So different than usual,” I offered with a shrug, and Sebastian rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he told me, patting Andy’s back gently. “What were you talking to Chris about?” 

“He was just telling me some nice things,” I said simply. “About how you’re always talking about me and Andy. And he said that he’d babysit whenever we need him to.” 

“Hmm,” Sebastian hummed softly. “Sounds promising. I really miss you, baby.” 

“I miss you too,” I told him. “Now, my love, you have work. Be good and kill Chris for me.” 

“Anything for you, my baby.” 

[soulwillower]

hot sugar • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

[the title is taken from the song by glass animals but has nothing to do with the fic LOL]

request: okay so i just saw ur requests are open again and well ive has this idea for a while (dont even ask me why😳) but uh imagine being Richie’s girl and u go watch him playing street fighter and u get turned cause man those hands (😳) and he just v aggressive and HOT so u basically start teasing him until our poor boy snaps and then cue the rough smut??? LMFAO i know its wAck so UH FORGIVE ME MY SIMP ASS AINSLEE🤧🤧- 🧩

warnings: swearing, smut, public smut, unprotected sex, degradation, dirty talk, use of the word slut, bit of choking, praise kink, uhhh hair pulling, the works! super unedited, i will go back in and edit soon i promise

(losers + reader are in 18+ in this.)

3.6k words

♡

the arcade was a place that, growing up, was almost like a safe haven.

being who you are, you grew up being tormented by bowers and his dangerous friends constantly, always looking over your shoulder for that shiny red car or walking home in groups. but now, you and your friends are much older and less afraid of useless middle school bullies.

awkward limbs grew and filled out, teeth straightened and voices dropped. your friends all became incredibly hot. you did, too. and then you and richie started dating - things changed. 

one thing that stuck in the five years since you were thirteen was the arcade, though.

richie's leaned casually over the street fighter machine, almost towering over it at his height, his hair tousled from his fingers running through it. the fluorescent lights from the game reflect onto his skin, casting shadows from his sharp jaw and cheekbones, his bottom lip caught in between his pristine teeth. you resist a groan as you walk closer, eyes falling to his face where he's concentrated on the screen in front of him.

"fuck." he hisses as he messes up, throwing his head back and exposing the pale expanse of his throat, a sight that has you clenching your thighs as you mumble with a dry throat, "hi, rich."

he looks at you for a second, flashing his signature smile as he pecks you quickly on the cheek. "hey, sugar." he says, "sorry, i'm just about to beat this high score." he says, eyes immediately focusing back on the game. you roll your eyes, "isn't the high score already yours?" you ask.

he's too enthralled with the video game to respond. you almost leave, but your eyes flick down to his hands and you nearly pass out as you see his fingers moving over the buttons, maneuvering the joystick in a way that makes his veins pop out of his arms and hands.

you clear your throat, eyes glued to his hands, imagining them on your skin. they're so large, it always shocks you when he's got his hands on you how much of your body they cover in one grip. fe flicks his fingers and you resist the urge to moan out loud, imagining the way his fingers would feel on your thighs, your stomach, your face, wrapped around your throat, or buried deep inside you....

god, those hands. 

you shake your head a bit, face turning red. with a quick glance around, you see that the arcade is nearly empty, so you use the opportunity to lean up and pepper kisses along the junction of his shoulder and neck. he hums slightly and you can hear the grin in his voice. "baby, i'm busy." he says not unkindly, leaning into your touch despite being enamored with the game in front of him.

you pout, falling back to the balls of your feet as you stare up at him with wide eyes. he looks like fucking heaven right now with his mouth slightly open, a concentrated look on his face as he's lit up in blue and red hues by the bright neon of the arcade.

his hands fly around, catching in the light and making you tense, heat pooling between your legs as you think about his fingers on you. the lust is overwhelming as you stand next to him, desperately trying to keep your eyes on the video game screen and not on his hands - but you can't, and you decide to tease him a bit.

your eyes catch the boy who's working the front counter, sam, and you grin a bit, silently leaving richie's side and stalking over to the counter. the boy greets you with a smile and you ask him for a cherry coke, making sure you're leaning against the counter enough so that richie's eyes which are burning holes into your back move down your body and stare at your ass, where it's nearly on full display under your skirt. 

you turn your head over your shoulder for a quick peek and get immediate shivers when richie's eyes meet yours from directly across the way - the arcade game positioned so that barely a turn of the jaw allows him full view of your backside. and your lace panties.

when sam returns with your coke, you smile at him and take a sip, making sure you wiggle your hips teasingly in case richie's piercing gaze is still on you.

sam's cheek turn lightly pink, and so you wink at him and turn and leave, tossing a few coins into the tip jar. 

you know it's a cheap shot, but you pretend to fumble with a coin and drop it on the way back, bending over and picking it up, staying longer than necessary so richie knows that sam could see it.

 when you straighten up again you barely look over to sam, but his eyes are wide and cheeks red as he looks away, wiping the bar with a rag. you smirk as you look back to richie.

he's always too easy to rile up.

he's glaring at you like nothing else, his eyes piercing and jaw set tightly. "rich, i'm going to go wait at the car." you call, your lips wrapping around  your straw and hollowing your cheeks as you take a sip. his jaw sets again and he glares at you, so you wink and turn around, proud of yourself.

you don't hear the noise of the richie's character in street fighter losing, and you barely hear the footsteps until they catch right up to you.

and then richie pushes you up against the wall of the hallway, only maybe fifteen feet around the corner from the arcade bar, and kisses you hotly on the mouth. heat instantly pools in your panties and you whimper into his mouth. his hands hold you possessively as he pulls back and you gasp for air.

"you're a fucking tease." he snaps, eyes dark. your own eyes widen in shock from his snap. his lips press to your neck and he sucks lightly, his hips pressing against you and causing you to gasp again.

"such a needly slut, hmm?" he purrs in your ear, biting on the lobe as his fingers slide up your bare thighs and rub your slit over your lace panties, making you whimper quietly. "couldn't even wait for me to be done with my game." he mutters, fingers pulling aside your panties and plunging immediately into you, making you grip his shoulders and bite back a loud moan.

 "richie." you whimper quietly, eyes shooting to the left, down the hall where sam works, clueless that you're pressed against the wall with richie's hand up your skirt.

he's pumping his fingers in a way that has your legs completely shaking, your grip on his shoulders and his hand pinning your hip to the wall being the only things preventing you from crumbling to the floor. he hooks his fingers slightly, pressing against your g spot as you bite back the need to wail in pleasure.

you look then towards the exit, only twenty-six feet away, and shiver when you think anybody could walk right in. 

your eyes meet his and his smirk is cockier than ever, an eyebrow raised as he watches you and tuts. "are you afraid someone's gonna see?" he says lowly, his fingers hitting a spot inside you that already has your stomach curling as the oncoming of an orgasm makes you whimper as quietly as you can. 

he tilts his head, a devilish smirk on his face. "or would you like that? you want sam to see how much of a slut you are for my fingers?”

all you can do is moan dejectedly, the pleasure rendering you unable to form cohesive words. richie continues, “what d’you think, should i just fuck you right here? spread those pretty legs and show everyone how much you want me?” his words make you moan, “bet you'd like that, huh?”"

you buck your hips, cheeks bright red as your eyes clench shut, feeling yourself nearing your peak. richie laughs lightly, "d'you want him to see how desperate you are for it? how well you i stretch you out, like you were made just for my cock?"

your eyes are rolled back slightly, legs shaking as your fingers grip onto his arms so hard you're sure there will be half-moon crescent shapes there for days after.

he hums again as you buck your hips, "are you close, baby?" he asks, his fingers fucking you into the wall. you nod weakly, eyes shut in pure bliss. 

"yeah?” he asks softly, and you nod. "say it, y/n/n." he orders, sending chills down your spine.

you open your eyes and meet his, loving and full of lust. you moan quietly, "richie, m'gonna cum." you say weakly, whimpers escaping your lips. 

"yeah? right now?" he asks again, and you feel yourself about to cum.

he presses his thumb to your neglected clit and holds it there as he thrusts and you clench your legs slightly at the pleasure coursing through you, your toes curling.

and then, just as you almost hit your high, he pulls out of you with a smirk.

you gasp loudly at the feeling and then you're left with the feeling of nothing, the feeling of tease lingering in your head as you stare at him.

his smirk is wide.

"go to the car." he purrs it out and you're weak in the knees, staring at him with wide eyes. your chest is heaving, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. you whimper as you feel your crest fading, the absence of his hand from under your skirt making you almost pout.

"but-" you start, but he gives you a look that immediately shuts your mouth. you wordlessly turn and leave towards his car in the lot, carrying yourself on shaky legs, sensitive and desperately horny.

the ride home is absolute torture.

richie's got his jaw set tightly, but one glance down to his bulge tells you that he's just as desperate to get home as you are. his hand rests on your bare thigh.

you stare down at it, thinking about how seconds his fingers were buried deep inside you, and now they grip your thigh lightly, the veins in his hand smoothing all the way up his forearm.

you squirm slightly, restlessly - you don't dare do anything more, though.

and then, about two minutes from richie's house, his hand moves. it slides up until your skirt is lifted and his fingers find purchase on the lace covering your clit, making your breath catch in your throat. gently, so lightly, his finger rubs in a circle, and you let out a loud moan as you let your head fall back onto the headrest. "richie, please." your beg sounds broken and you turn red at the desperation in your voice.

he just smirks, his dimple popping out as he takes the turn to his street, finger pressure enough to make your stomach coil with need, but not enough to be satisfying.

and then you're getting out of his parked car, following him with a pounding heart as you watch his broad shoulders move under his dark shirt as he opens the front door. "there better not be anybody home." he says, back still turned to you. you follow him as he toes off his shoes and you mumble, "what?" to make sure you heard him clearly.

you're suddenly face to face with richie, "i said i hope there's nobody home, because i'm going to fuck you right here so hard you scream."

your stomach drops and your eyes widen in shock, butterflies filling you as his lips smash against yours abruptly. you exhale and let out a breathy whine into his own mouth, his hands grabbing your hips to steady you as you stumble back towards the stairs.

his tongue swirls around yours, hands dropping to palm your ass and making you squeak as he pinches you with one hand.

"such a fuckin' tease." he growls, tongue sliding along your lip as he nudges you, making you fall a bit towards the staircase, richie finding purchase between your legs and immediately grinding down on you. the feeling makes you moan loudly, the high walls of the entry room making your voice carry through the house. "richie, please fuck me. please." you beg, fingers tugging on his neck, pressing your lips desperately to his.

he's rutting his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing against your heat and making you pant with need as you tug his curly strands. his hands then move as he kneels on the steps, undoing his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen.

you groan as you watch his hands pump himself and you whimper slightly as you buck your hips, desperate for him.

and then his hand is grabbing your face, thumb holding your chin as he turns your head to look right at him. "you better do exactly what i say, princess." he says, looking into your eyes. you nod, his thumb grip stern as he lines up at your entrance.

"yes, richie, yes. wan' it so bad, please." you mutter, making him smirk. "good girl." he says, cutting whatever you were going to add off as he pushes into you fully.

the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling. your back rubs uncomfortably against the carpet of the stairs as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders and all you can think about is richie.

"fuck, rich." you mumble, moaning his name as he starts thrusting, building his pace until he's snapping his hips into yours.

“good girl, begging for me.” his hands grip your thighs, holding them open as your eyes roll back slightly, “look at you, all wrecked on my cock like a good slut.” he pounds you into the stairs, lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure adding to the volume of your moans.

his hands rise to lift your shirt up over your chest, sliding up to quickly undo your bra and whipping it off, his hips still snapping in an unforgiving pace. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. he tosses your bra to the floor and then his lips are attached to your nipple, tongue flicking the sensitive bud and then his teeth slightly grazing it.

you keen loudly, back arching as you yelp his name. he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. "look at you, such a brat teasing me at the arcade.” his voice is deep and rough, "look at you now, drunk on my cock. you just needed to remember who's you are, huh?" he coos, pressing a kiss to your temple as a tear escapes your eye, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up for the third time.

your fingers dive under his shirt and scratch down his bare back, making him hiss and hum slightly, gripping your hips and lifting you slightly.

the new angle has you really screaming, his cock pressing deep inside you from the brutal snap of his hips forcing you back against the stairs.

you feel exposed with your shirt pulled up, tits bouncing with his thrusts as your skirt is pushed up and he fucks you senseless out in the open.

"such a little slut, all for me... so fuckin' pretty, baby." he's muttering. and he kisses you like he's claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you're weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

you moan, your stomach clenching in ecstasy as you moan out his name, coming closer with each harsh thrust, “richie, fuck, im-”

“-you gonna cum on my cock like the good slut you are?" he mutters, hand rising to grip your throat lightly. you whimper, face red from the pleasure added from the light squeezing of his hand. "you look so pretty like this, princess." he says, eyes admiring the smudged makeup of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your neck is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. "you can be so good sometimes, just have to fuck you senseless first, huh?" he asks, smirking. his lips curl in a way that has you clenching hard around his cock, his dimples and inquiring eyes making you moan.

"i want you to cum for me, honey." he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as he rubs your clit again, your legs instantly shaking as you cry out.

your climax hits you hard and you're moaning and arching your back as he holds you against him.

he doesnt stop moving after you cum, but just keeps thrusting harder. his hands come to play with your tits, roughly palming them as he fucks you harder into the stairs. as he continues to slam his hips against yours, he hums, "isn't this what you wanted, baby?" he asks as he thumbs away another tear.

"you wanna get fucked until you can't thing, huh?" he mutters, lifting your hips again and hitting deep inside of you, making you cry out as you clench and spasm around him. you can only whimper as one of his hands falls to grip your thigh and slides up to your ass, slapping it harshly and making you moan loud.

you're bucking your hips up with his, desperately chasing a growing second orgasm despite the sensitivity of your first one. he chuckles against your neck, "and you're still begging for it. such a slut for me. who's pussy is this?"

he's filling you so well and you let out a half-sob, half moan. "that's not a name, baby." he says, voice cocky as he rams into you. you look at him, biting your lip. "yours, richie - fuck, oh my god." you moan, and he's satisfied with that answer because he hums and rubs your clit again.

"you gonna cum for me again like a good girl?" he hums in your ear, lips brushing your ear lobe and making you nod, holding him close as your second orgasm hits you harder, pulsing around his cock.

"fucking tease." he groans as he grips your hips and slams into you, milking you through your orgasm as he hits his own.

you mutter, “please cum richie, need it so bad, please.” as you look at him desperately, and his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips as he thrusts one last time into you, stilling as he cums. you're warm and sensitive as he slowly rocks his hips, beautiful moans falling from his cherry colored lips as he spills inside of you, "fuck, baby. took me so good, fuck."

you look up at him with wide eyes as he kisses your cheeks and then your nose, wiping away a few stray tears and then softly meeting your lips. he pulls out gently, sliding your panties up as you feel his cum spill over your entrance. “god, you were so perfect for me, sugar.” he mutters as he collapses next to you, combing your hair and pulling you towards him.

he kisses you softly.

your mind is still fuzzy, tears drying on your hairline as richie trails his fingers lightly over your skin and places loving kisses to your face, but you are fairly certain you hear the sound of richie's garage door.

immediately you both jolt up, eyes wide as you look at each other, hair mussed up and lips kiss-bruised. but richie just fucked you so hard that you're not even sure you can walk; one glance over says richie's having the same thought.

you don't even have time to push down your skirt or shirt as his parents enter the house, and then richie's lifting you from the stairs, stumbling over himself to make it up to his bedroom while the sound of his family echoes into the entrance room. your heart is pounding.

"richie!?" you hear his mom call just as he sets you on his bed, and he looks at you with alarmed eyes. you look back, flustered but confused - why does he look like he's seen a ghost?

"what's wrong, rich?" you ask, hand falling onto his arm. his eyes are wide, cheeks slightly pink.

"y/n, your bra." he mutters, making your heart stop, remembering as he'd ripped it from you and tossed it just next to the staircase. your face turns bright red and richie huffs a half-laugh.

"fuck."

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx   @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters

[lumosinlove]

12/19/20: Dy Six

On the sixth day of Ficmas, Haze gave to yer, a mash up of YSAMS and Sweater Weather—O’Knutzy edition!

tw: guns, military, blood, injury (and because this is ficmas and bright I’ll tell you everything’s okay in the end)

It had happened so quickly.

Right before, Logan had been thinking that Leo looked like some sort of dark angel in night vision. His hair glowed green, like greek fire, and the red cross on his sleeve stood out like hot coals, waiting to be lit up. Logan stroked his trigger and settled in between the weight of the pack on his back and the gun in his hands.

“Harzy, status,” Logan said.

Finn’s voice came quietly through his earpiece. “Hungry.”

“Harzy,” Leo���s voice came next.

“Clear through here,” Finn said, and Logan could hear his smile. “I’m just saying, I could go for some of Celeste’s Christmas cookies right about now. She send you anything lately, Tremz?”

“As if I would tell you after last time,” Logan said and rounded into another room. “Clear. You know, when you ate them all.”

“Mean.”

~

Now, the medic tent was dark. The target apartment had been dark, too. In the medic tent, Leo’s hair was back to gold. Logan had the new tin of Christmas cookies in his lap. And Finn—

~

“Over here,” Leo’s voice had come from just ahead, after disappearing around a corner. into one of the abandon rooms. “Two women, one injured in the left thigh.”

That was when Logan heard the shots. They were in his ear, they were everywhere.

~

In the tent, the red cross on Leo’s arm was the same color of the fake holly hung around the canvas walls. Brighter than the color of Finn’s hair, but the same as the red heart line, jumping every time Finn breathed.

Breathe, Logan begged. Keep breathing.

~

Logan had ran. He’d forgotten all of his training. He’d run straight through rooms, only looking for one thing. Finn. FinnFinn—

The shooter was standing over Finn’s body in the center of what once was a bedroom. Half the bed was caved in. Half the walls were missing. Finn’s gun was kicked halfway across the room. The shooter raised his own.

~

Logan remembered his shot. Neat. Quick and painless. But he still felt the kick of the gun beneath his fingers, against his shoulder. He clutched the cookie tin in his lap and didn’t look away from Finn’s monitor, Finn’s face, not even when Leo sat down beside him.

~

“Man down,” Logan said into his radio, shouted it really. He heard his voice crack, and nothing of the reply from base. He was sliding to a stop on his knees, turning Finn over.

“Finn,” Logan shuddered, frozen. “Harzy…”

Finn’s chest was two blooms of red. His eyes were open, staring and wide at Logan.

“Lo,” Finn managed. With the word came a bead of red at the corner of his mouth. Wind was whistling through the cracks in the exploded brick, and his word might as well have been snatched right away.

Logan bent closer, tearing at Finn’s uniform with shaking hands. Then, Leo was there, slinging his gun on his back.

“Get him up,” Leo shouted. “Get him up.” And then he was talking to his radio. “Man down, two shots to the abdomen, coming out South corner, one shooter, down, too. Logan.”

That was when Logan had heard the gun shots. They faded in, like someone was taking cotton out of his ears.

Logan grabbed Finn’s shoulders with numb fingers. Red was leaking through Finn’s jacket, he coughed and it bubbled from his mouth.

“Lo,” Finn mumbled, he was staring at Logan. “Logan.”

“His vest—” Logan managed.

“He gave it to the kid, the new one, Reyes,” Leo grunted as he hiked Finn’s legs more firmly into his hands, glancing behind him as he did. “This morning, we didn’t have enough. Fuck.”

It would have blocked the bullets. All the red—

“Harzy, can you hear us?” Leo said. “Stay awake, Finn, keep your eyes open, look at me—” Leo’s voice broke. “Come on, Harzy, look at me—“

~

Logan closed his eyes. He remembered crying soundlessly as they carried Finn out to the truck. He remembered panting through the heat and his sobs, and sitting in the truck bed, beside Finn’s stretcher. Someone had told him to put his head between his knees. He remembered getting out at base and dry heaving beside the barracks as Finn got rushed away.

He couldn’t even imagine crying now. He couldn’t imagine moving. His limbs felt stiff. They ached.

Leo’s hand appeared on his back, warm between his shoulder blades. That hand had opened and closed Finn’s chest. It had been right next to Finn’s heart. Leo had seen Finn’s heart.

Logan wished Leo could see his, and how torn it was. Torn right in two.

“Tremz,” Leo began quietly, and he looked like an entirely different type of angel. Soft. Gentle.

Logan was torn right in two.

Leo bit his lip. “You and Finn…”

“I can’t,” Logan choked out, and pressed his forehead into his hands.

“Tremz, no,” Leo said. “Come on, this is me, I’d never—”

“If he dies, it’s better I don’t love him.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?” Logan’s voice broke at the end, quiet with tears.

Leo let out a small sigh, but kept rubbing Logan’s back. Logan let him for a few more moments before straightening and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“I would feel the same, you know,” he began, and then prayed Leo understood what was coming next. “If it had been you.”

He heard Leo’s breathing stop. That probably meant Leo’s heart was pounding. Logan, listening to Finn’s, turned to Leo and pressed his palm to his chest, resting his forehead against his shoulder. He was right. Leo’s chest was warm with it.

Leo let his breath out. The hand that had been on Logan’s back wrapped all the way around his shoulders.

“He’s going to be okay,” Leo said softly. “We got the casings out and stitched him up. He’s going to be fine.”

“Are you okay, too?” Logan said. “Because I—I need both of you.”

“I’m fine, Tremzy,” Leo said, but his voice wavered. “And Fish is fine. He’ll wake up soon and you’ll—you should tell him. How you feel, I mean.”

“What if I tell both of you how I feel?” Logan mumbled, still ducked away from Leo’s blue gaze, startling against all the red.

They sat there, Logan waiting desperately for a response, and listening to Finn’s heart.

“Do you mean that?” Leo said quietly. “Because—you’re in shock. Or you could be, or I could be and…fuck, Logan, I can’t do that right now. I can’t hear you say that and then listen to you take it back later.”

“I won’t,” Logan whispered, and finally raised his head. “I couldn’t.”

They were close. Leo’s eyes were worried, but he reached up and cupped Logan’s cheek.

They’d been here before. They never spoke about it, but they’d been here before. Logan and Finn, too.

“We’re going to be okay,” Leo said, even though he couldn’t know it, not for sure.

“Hey,” said a soft voice from the bed. “That’s nice.”

“Finn,” Logan and Leo said his name at the same time.

Finn’s eyes were barely open, but his heart was still even, even if Logan’s was far from it.

“Hey, Harzy, how do you feel?” Leo said, standing and leaning over him. He tilted his face gently up, looking at his eyes, his pupils.

“That was nice,” Finn mumbled again, staring at Leo. “Were you kissing?”

Leo laughed a little. “No.”

“I want to kiss Lo, too,” Finn said, and looked at Logan, standing a little beside Leo. “Hey, let’s kiss him together.” His head turned back to look at Leo, movements sleepy with the drugs in his system. “We—then we can kiss.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “All right, Harz, you’re all doped up, just—”

“I’m glad it was me,” Finn said, his eyes slipping closed.

Logan looked at Leo, whose eyes were pained.

“Finn,” Logan began. “No…”

Finn’s nod was small, but he did it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah.”

Logan sat back down in his chair, scooting it forward until he was right at Finn’s bedside. “Let’s just…don’t say that.”

“Gonna give me some of Celeste’s cookies now, Lo?”

Leo laughed from where he was checking Finn’s charts. “If he doesn’t, I’ll sneak them to you.”

“Whatever you want,” Logan said around the tightness in his throat. “Whatever you want…”

Leo sat back down beside Logan and Logan leaned into his side. The full weight of his exhaustion was settling into him, now that Finn was looking at them softly.

“I’m gonna kiss you guys,” Finn mumbled before his eyes slipped closed. “Promise.”

“Joyeux Noël, Harzy,” Logan whispered, hand stroking his hair away from his face.

Finn, eyes barely opened before slipping closed again. “What?”

Leo wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Merry Christmas, Harz.”

[mm2305]

Hi Mil!!

I thought those Meet Cute asks were so much fun!! I am glad you did too!! If you have time I would like to request #35 for Ethan and Olivia.

Thank you!!

-Kate

Please drive!

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey x f!mc (Olivia Valentine) ¦¦ Words/Rating : 1.4k / T ¦¦ Warnings : mention of aggressive dogs ¦¦ Setting : Alternate Universe ¦¦

Prompt : They jump into your car breathless and tell you to keep driving

A/N : Hello!! I'm sorry this took so long but it's here now and I really hope you like this Kate! I certainly had lots of fun with this. Request from the meet cute prompt list (requests still open). Happy reading!

Disclaimer : all characters belong to the rightful owners. Also the Thomas Mendez headcanon here is by @jamespotterthefirst

Masterlist

-/-

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, the sun high upon the sky, the air unusually filled with humidity. A dreadful combination, for sure. The street was mostly empty, the sight of another soul, rare during this time that the heat was at its fullest. Most people would be sensible enough to not go out at 103°F, but as much as he needed to be one of those people, Ethan was on borrowed time that day.

Being an intern at a hospital was probably the hardest - and let's be honest, shittiest- situation you could be in, right? The answer is a big fat no. At least that's what Ethan Ramsey, a doctor who at just his second year as an attending was at the top of his game and highly successful, would say. Why? Because someone has to deal with the interns and that brave soul has to deal with a lot. He speaks from experience.

Hence why this was the only moment he could slip in his schedule to take a break and get some decent coffee. His best friend Tobias, had suggested he go to the new place in the suburbs to get his caffeine fix. Of course, Ethan didn't believe him at first. A coffee shop in the suburbs? Sounds like one of Tobias' usual pranks. Still, his curiosity won and he drove all the way to the suburbs in search of the infamous coffee shop.

He would die before he admitted that Tobias was right, but that was some pretty good coffee. Content and somewhat more ready to go back, he began walking to his car. He could hear some barking in the distance, but that was to be expected. All those rich people around here sure would keep a dog or two. "Well maybe I should adopt the pup Thomas stole. I could use the company of someone not constantly talking" , he thought to himself as he unlocked the car.

Ethan quickly got in and immediately turned on the air conditioning. He sinked into his leather seat and closed his eyes for a minute, finding some relief from the unbearable heat. Suddenly he heard the door of the car open and close along with some very loud barking and he instinctively jumped in his seat, turning to look at the person who jumped in his car.

He didn't even get to utter a word before the woman turned to look at him with pleading eyes.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry for barging in but please please drive ! I'll explain everything I promise!"

Not even thinking about it, he started driving, while keeping an eye on the woman next to him, who was breathing heavily and looking out of the mirrors. It was then that he saw six big dogs running after his car and all that barking he had heard started making sense.

The dogs stopped following them after a few more minutes, their endurance making them seem understandably terrifying. Only then did she relax and take a deep breath.

"Thank you so much for this. I'm so sorry for jumping into your car.", she thanked him with a small smile.

"Uh… it's no problem. Glad I could help."

"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Olivia Valentine, nice to meet you.", Olivia extended her hand towards him in a handshake.

Turning his eyes on her he briefly shook her hand. "Ethan Ramsey, it's…certainly interesting to meet you"

She laughed slightly at that, shaking her head and looking out of the window.

Ethan couldn't help but really notice how attractive she was. Her hair was gold blonde and tied back into a high ponytail, shaped in loose curls. Her eyes were big and green and her skin was spotless. Olivia wasn't wearing much makeup but what really stood out was her plump, bright red lips, perfectly contrasting with her fair skin. She was dressed in a simple, professional, dark blue , form-fitting dress with black high heels that accentuated her long legs. She was wearing a silver, elegant wrist watch and in her lap rested a black briefcase.

"Would it be okay if I asked what just happened to you, Miss Valentine?", the urge to solve mysteries whether it was regarding medicine or this beautiful woman, propelled him towards asking her this question. Besides she just came out of nowhere, I have a right I ask her. Right?

"Please call me Olivia."

"Only if you call me Ethan"

She grinned and nodded. "Deal"

"So, Ethan , I am a real estate agent. I had an appointment with a client to show him a villa that was for sale but I had been waiting outside the house for thirty minutes and he hadn't shown up. And of course, he didn't even call to let me know that he wouldn't come, instead of letting me roast in the sun. Anyways, I decided to leave and I walked a couple of blocks down the street in hopes of getting a cab. You can guess how well that went in this time and area, so I called a colleague to come pick me up. I was waiting for her to come, when two of these huge ass dogs escaped their homes, thinking I was an intruder just because I passed by and began coming closer, teeth bared and all. Since I am so lucky today, somehow more dogs gathered so I panicked and ran. They started chasing me… and then Olivia met Ethan", she finished her story with a dry chuckle.

Ethan was left speechless. His surprise must have been written all across his face because next thing he knew she was bursting into laughter.

"I'm-I'm sorry… it's just--that you should see your face", she said in between laughing.

"I mean. Wow. And all because of that jerk of a client."

"Definitely a jerk and not only because of that. He's a plastic surgeon and he's all about how successful he is or some shit. "I'm Dr. Thorne and I'm one of the leading plastic surgeons in Massachusetts." As if I give a damn. ", she rolled her eyes hard.

"Dr. Thorne you said? Ugh he's one of the worst of his kind"

"You know him?!"

"Yeah unfortunately. He works in Edenbrook, as do I. I'm a doctor."

"Ohh interesting! Let me guess. Internal medicine?"

"Actually… yes. How did you guess?", he turned to give her a surprised look.

"You previously said of his kind. I know enough about doctors that one working in internal medicine isn't particularly…fond of surgeons. Am I right?", she asked giddily.

Ethan chucked at that. "Yes, you are. Mostly at least"

"Nailed it."

Valentine. Where had he heard that name though…?

"You work in the big firm downtown don't you?" , he stated rather than asked after a moment of silence.

"I was wondering when you would figure it out Dr. Ramsey.", Olivia teased him, smirking.

"I am a diagnostician Ms. Valentine. I notice things. And your firm is difficult to miss"

"Technically not mine. My father owns the business."

"So it's safe to assume, your mother is the doctor?"

"Bravo, Doctor. Yes indeed. She works at Mass Kenmore."

"I see… So. Want me to give you a lift? We're already in the car and your work is on my way.", he raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Sure! Thanks Ethan", she replied, grinning widely.

They spent the rest of the way comfortably talking to each other, both genuinely enjoying each other's company. For someone who was so talkative and gregarious, Ethan found himself interested in anything Olivia had to say. She was smart and confident, but in the most charming way possible. At last they reached the firm and Ethan pulled over.

Both turned to look at each other and started talking simultaneously

"Olivia--"

"I --"

"Ladies first.", he motioned for her to say what she wanted.

"Right. Thank you once again Ethan, both for the save and the ride. It was really nice to meet you.", her hand reached and squeezed his arm.

"You're very welcome, Olivia. I uh… wanted to ask…only if you want to of course… can I have your number?". He was quite visibly stuttering, but he tried to hide it behind a cough.

Olivia looked him in the eyes, clearly seeing through him and smiled. "Yeah, absolutely. Can I have yours too?"

He smiled back at her. "Yes of course"

They exchanged cards and after saying goodbye, Olivia got out of the car and walked back into the office. Just as she sat down at her desk she received a text message.

Ethan : Meet me this Saturday at 8, in "Gaston's Bistro"?

Olivia : I'll be there :)

Ethan : Perfect :D

She put her phone away and got down to work, smiling all the way, already excited for her date this weekend.

-/-

A/N : Of you made it till here, then thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :)

Taglist :

Perma (all OH edits and fics) : @romewritingshop @codykosuckmytoe @sophxwithers @actuallybored @potionsprefect @ethansramsey @crystalwillow @gryffindordaughterofathena @kiara-36 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @writer-ish @panda9584 @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @shanzay44 @nikki-2406 @starryeyedrookie @coffeeheartaddict @schnitzelbutterfingers @mysticaurathings @starrystarrytrouble @lsvdw-blog @izzyourresidentlawyer @silma-words @stygianflood @headoverheelsforramsey @maurine07 @natureblooms24 @a-crepusculo @barbean @choicesaddict5

Fics only : @alina-yol-ramsey

+ @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Please let me know if you want to be moved to another category or totally removed. No hard feelings promise.

[eggtoasties]

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

.

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[p---ink]

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. 

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival. 

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face. 

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process.  When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return. 

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job? 

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love. 

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him. 

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil. 

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one. 

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids. 

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you. 

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest.  You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message. 

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day. 

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you. 

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!” 

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin. 

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet. 

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though. 

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him. 

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself. 

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent  ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes. 

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew. 

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first���. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it. 

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex. 

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?” 

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last. 

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say  “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub. 

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face. 

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy. 

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch. 

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips. 

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers. 

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch. 

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You  felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were. 

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up. 

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.” 

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ I’ll Fight to be Apart of this Family - Edited Version. Part 5.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​, @angelic-demonss 

“Are we just not going to discuss the stranger in the room? why is the bartender here?” Four smirked at Zero. She in turn just raised her eyebrow at the blonde haired beauty, daring him to continue. “And why is Five giving her first aid?” 

The room went silent, everyone was looking at Zero like she was the enemy, and in a way she was. This group of people were the closest thing she had to family and yet she was an impostor, an outsider who’s voice was the only thing the team had ever heard that’s the only thing they knew her by. She hoped One would forgive her for what she was about to do.

Zero coughed away any last nervous about coming clean. "You know for what you guys do, you are all so dumb sometimes."

Zero in return heard a hiss, her head snapped to the direction it came from. She was faced with One, his face and neck had gone completely red with how angry he was.  A look that told Zero to shut her gob if she knew what was good for her. 

"What?!" Was she really that surprised? It was One after all, did she really think he’d just let her spill the beans right here, right now when he’d kept her away for so many years. 

"She, she just stumbled in here after the bar fight, and the doctor couldn't resist helping her." Zero looked from One appalled, to Five who was just as taken a back as Zero was. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gave a concerning look between the both of them. 

Zero couldn't help but clock onto the suspicious glare that Two was giving her. She definitely knew the truth, she was an incredibly smart woman and Zero wouldn’t be shocked if she didn’t know the moment she walked into the room. She looked back to One who she could tell was getting more and more worried over the glances everyone in the room was giving Zero.

"Your name was Lilly right?" One asked marching up to Zero and grabbing her hand, but Zero shrugged it off "Come on I'll take you home."

Everyone was looking at One like he'd lost his mind, the team was supposed to be a secret so why would he offer to take a stranger home? The air was so thick in the kitchen that even a knife wouldn’t cut it.  To make matters worse Four was starring Zero down with such ferocity she thought those ocean blue eyes she’d only seen in photo’s would melt her to the ground. She just raised her eyebrows at the man again, more threatening this time. Zero was brought back by the tug on her arm, she hissed back at One but jumped down off the counter anyway. As she slowly made her way pasted Five she quietly thanked her for being there to help her as best she could for the night. 

“Who is she One?” Three pressed on, One looked like he would explode any moment, the man who never seemed to make such stupid mistakes had nearly revealed one of his biggest secrets. “No one, she’s no one. Just a normal bartender.” Zero stopped abruptly which also dragged One to a stop as his hand was still around her arm.  When he whipped around she took the opportunity to strike the man straight across his dumb face. 

One looked at her shocked, she herself was in shock at what she had just done. Had she actually just assaulted him? The man that had saved her life all those years ago, gave her food and shelter, she owed him everything and she had just straight up assaulted him. She looked at her hand that now slightly stung in shock, as did everyone else in the room.  One’s shock only lasted a couple of seconds before his face turned stony cold and once again he latched onto Zero’s arm and headed towards the door. 

After everything that just happened Zero couldn’t help but still be memorised as she approached Four, he was breath taking, a beautiful sight to look at. It was almost like looking into the blinding sun that eventually you had to tear your sight away from, in case of damage to the eyes.

She felt a wave of sadness overcome her suddenly, she had been so close to Four actually knowing who she was, she’d been close to the whole team knowing it was her. God even one normal conversation with him probably wouldn't have satisfied her enough but it would have been a start at least. Yet One just had to take even that away from her, while she was grateful for everything One had done for her, he was still in turn hurting her.  What she really needed was a real family and she had found that in these guys but One was always in the way.  If her only way was to fight to be apart of this family, then so be it.

"Hurry up" One snapped out angrily, there was definitely going to be consequences for hitting him and she knew it. But she was done being alone.

Zero looked back at Five who was still in shock and what looked like awe, she seemed to blink back to a little normality when she caught Zeros eye again. She gave Zero a ‘You’ll be okay’ look and a little nod, Zero was happy to know that she at least had Five to rant to afterwards when everything with One had settled. 

As Zero got closer and closer to the little blonde shit leaning on the door frame she swore she could see him smirking at her, she had to also fight the urge to slap him into next week as well, he’d just seen it first hand so he should be scared. But as she crossed the thresh hold of the hotel kitchen his hand that was hanging by his side brushed against hers and it felt like lightning shooting up her arm, across her shoulder and up the side of her neck.  She tried not to show the shiver it sent down her spine but the urge was taking over her. She met his eyes again and to her surprise she saw the same reaction but he quickly hid it.  A sudden desired to leave struck her so she decided to just keep walking after One, who had steamed ahead of her.

Once outside she felt like the mist in her mind had cleared a little, but as soon as she saw One angrily waiting beside his car she suddenly felt all the anger rush back. "What the actual fuck One?!" She screamed marching her way to the passenger door.

He opened up his side of the car. "Shut up and get in the car." He said calmly which scared her more than if he had shouted it at her, he got in the drivers seat but slammed the door shut which made her jump in turn. Zero just huffed, not wanting to get in more trouble than she was already in.

"Where are you taking me?" She sighed defeated.

"Home." He said shortly.

"Why?, why did you do that?"

"Do what? A better question is why did you hit me?!" He didn't look at her but she could tell with every word he spoke he was getting more angry.

"Okay in my defence, you were being a dick! you make me think I was finally becoming apart of the team, which then you revealed was just a ‘mistake’ I think you’d also feel like punching someone if you thought you were finally getting the family you deserved just to have them ripped away from you in the same moment!" I tried so hard to not to scream my lungs out at him but the more I spoke the harder it got.

"You knew that they weren't suppose to meet you! Why are you suddenly surprised. I told you when we first made the team that this was how it was going to be and you agreed!" One spat back.

"I did agree! but I was still in a bad place at that time and I wasn’t looking for friends let alone a whole family, I didn’t know that I was actually going to find a sense of security in these group of strangers did I!” The tears started to stream down Zeros face, she could taste the saltiness of her tears with every drop. “I want to go back! I want to complete the rest of the mission, I’ve come this far there is no way I’m bailing out now, just to go sit in that apartment manning the coms by myself for the rest of eternity." 

"No." He deadpanned, which made Zero even more angry. Had he not listened to anything she had just said to him? Did he not see just how much this mattered to her.

"One I’m not afraid to knock you out and drive there myself, I think I just proved that back in the kitchen." He just raised his eyebrows at her, like it was a challenge. "Come on One! why are you doing this to me? Why are you keeping me hidden? What do you gain from it."

"Because your job is best done in a flat somewhere, anywhere. Where no one can trace you."

"Bullshit!" Zero screamed which made One forcefully pulled the car over to the side of the road, the suddenness of the stop made her surge forward a little but luckily her seat belt prevented her from travelling any further forward.

"Please just tell me the truth." She said quietly, by this point she was drained physically and emotionally. "Why do you keep me away? and I don't want any of your bullshit. You and I both know I can do my work in any environment."

"I just want to keep you safe." One kept his focus straight ahead, staring out of the windscreen into the darkness.

"What do you mean? Since when have you ever cared about anyone's safety on this team?" I asked confused.

One had few rules, but one of the main rules that One lived by was if anyone gets stuck on a mission they are to be left behind. The team can never be exposed, so if one of them gets left behind because of capture or injury then it's just the price the team has to unfortunately pay.

"You were the first person I found." He slowly turned his head to look at Zero, this was the first piece of real emotion she’d ever seen from the man. She just looked at him confused and rightly so. 

"Why does it matter who came first? I thought you weren't meant to care about any of us?"

"I’m not." He shrugged now trying to seem like he wasn’t intrested in the conversation anymore, hoping she’d drop the subject. "But you were the first member of the team, You were in a very bad situation when I found you. I do actually have human feelings you know and I guess, In a way I grew fond of you."

Zero didn’t know what to feel, was she actually touched by this? She’d known One for a few years now and this was the most emotion she’d ever seen the man show, although she did think of him as closed off and cold he’d still saved her so in some way she rested him. "So why keep me away?"

"I didn't want you to ever get hurt, It would hurt too much to leave you behind if you got stuck. But it's a price i'd have to pay."

"Then don't, what you’re saying is that deep down, somewhere in that cold heart of yours you do actually care for this team you’ve created. So change the rule. We all need to be there for each other, especially now." I said reaching out to him.

"You know I can't do that. The mission comes first." His voice grew cold again and she knew she’d never see his vulnerable side again, shrugging off her hand he turned away to stare back out into the darkness.

"Then at least take me back to the team. I can work at the base, I don't want to be alone anymore One." He looked at her dead in the eye. "I’m starting to go stark raving mad staying in those apartments by myself not seeing anyone for years on end takes a toll on a person."

"You're hurting me more by keeping me away from them."

They both sat there for a moment in silence as Zero watched the cogs in One’s head turn, she thought if she pushed enough maybe, just maybe she’d get her way for once.

"Fine.” Did he just agree? “But I’m warning you now, if you get left behind on a mission, or injured I’m not coming back for you." He started up the car again, eerily calm It always annoyed her to no end that she could never figure this man out.

"I've known that since day one." He didn’t say another word as he turned the car around and sped off.

When they reached the base she was shocked to see just how many old and broken down planes One had collected over the years. "You’re still collecting them I see"

"Even got one or two that actually work." He mused.

It may have seem like a childish thought given the circumstances but Zero honestly couldn’t wait to explore every single aircraft in the graveyard. One had made it up the long dirt road by the time Zero came back to her senses, the car stopped and she could see a big crate in front of her and standing outside the only door was a great big dog. 

"Hey boy it's fine, she's with me." The dog then ran to One’s side and he started to pet him affectionately.

I just scoffed, raising my eyebrows at him. “What?” 

“So the dog gets your affection but we don’t?” Zero grabbed her chest, gasping pretending he’d hurt her heart but One just rolled his eyes at her and told her to stop being so dramatic. He then guided her up to an aeroplane that had a cartoon of a ghost with three lightning bolts shooting out of its hand near the entrance.

Zero laughed to herself. "I like that!" Pointing to the symbol.

"It’s in honour of you and your spooky shit." She looked at him shocked. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

She let him walk ahead of her so she could get her bearings, what came next was going to be a big shock to her system.

"One, you're back! I’m going to need you to spill, who was the bartender? Come on you’re never nice to anyone! Let alone giving a stranger a ride home." As soon as Zero heard that annoyingly sexy British accent she stopped dead in her tracks.

"I'll let her tell you herself."

Then there was silence. It finally hit her that she was about to meet the only family she’d ever known.

She was mostly scared because all she wanted was for them to like her, which she knew they already did but now, seeing and being with them in the flesh she didn’t want to mess their connection up. Especially with Four. She couldn’t deny that her and Fours connection even just through coms was a strong one, she just didn’t know what that connection meant yet but she was definitely excited to find out, she just hoped her feelings for him aren’t one sided.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then rounded the corner.

"Hey guys." She smiled at all their awestruck faces, she gave a little awkward waving but internally scolded herself afterwards.

Everyone but Two looked at her in shock, she just had to laugh, that woman was too smart for her own good.  "Well darling, the anticipation is killing us." Fours dark eyes were trained on Zero as he leaned on the table, she swore in that moment her legs turned to jelly.

"Well if you'd actually let me speak you'd find out sooner, wouldn’t you monkey boy." Her words seemed to snap something in him as he shot straight.

Everyone else just laughed as the realisation of who they were meeting struck them. She just smirked at them all, finally she could be in on jokes, eat with them and just get to be around the people she cares about most in this cruel world.

"Zero?!" Three said enthusiastically, bounding towards her and scooping her up into a bear hug.

She felt like all the air was being squeezed out of her but she didn’t mind one bit. "Glad to see there are actually some smart people around here.” She chocked out. 

“Three can you please release Zero, you’re literally suffocating our only hacker.” One said annoyed while he was fiddling with some magnets. 

Three let her down and she just smiled, patting him on the shoulder to let him know she was okay. "Sorry! Sorry, I’m just so excited to finally meet you mami!" He proceeded to kiss both of her cheeks.

She just laughed at how adorable he acted in person, Three had always been one of her favourite ghosts. He wasn’t the smartest and most of the time made the worst decisions but he was sweet and funny and wouldn’t waste a single second if you were in trouble, he’d be by your side. 

"Well dam." Four was leaning with his back against the table, arms crossed and staring Zero down. Her eyes travelled to his and she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Someone in the room, Zero couldn’t tell who coughed awkwardly which snapped both Zero and Four out of their intense staring competition. 

“So, the new mission?” 

[krabstick32]

MWAHAHA I'VE BEEN WAITING (✷‿✷) Can I ask for a Giyuu who decided he wants to try befriending the newest Pillar since she's pretty quiet (and also pretty cute UwU haha jk) but whenever he tries to come forward and talk to her she either doesn't respond or runs off looking embarrassed. Finally he asks one of the Pillars for help and they sort of break it to him that Reader just lost her voice in a battle before being a Pillar and is very shy because she doesn't know how to talk to people. Thanks!

Demon Got Your Tongue?

Requested by: @trueblueoceaneyes​​

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader  Synopsis: Giyuu wants to make a friend. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up as more.

Tags/warnings: I don’t think there are any, but reader isn’t able to talk (i’m very sorry if I wasn’t able to portray that properly!) and there are also references to the Giyuu Gaiden—but its not necessary to read that to understand this

A/N: WAAAA Thank you so much for being my first request girl!! As expected, your ideas are just *chef’s kiss* magnifique. ily, hope i did your request justice and that you like it uwu. 

I had so much fun writing Giyuu just being an awkward dork, and the bonus - especially the bonus. (also, pls excuse any mistakes, i feel like i passed over some) Anyway, please enjoy!!

edit: so i reread it, and there were some mistakes. apologies to the people who have read this prior the edit—the edits are very minor, but again, i am sorry _:(´□`」 ∠)_

Giyuu was a man who valued his silence and solitude.

From the start, he made it pretty obvious to the other Pillars that he wanted to be left alone and wanted nothing to do with them. And from that sort of attitude, they were able to conclude that while he was an amazing swordsman, he preferred to work alone, go on missions alone, and just generally be alone.

They knew next to nothing about the man, apart from his breath style and stoic personality—and he preferred it that way. Giyuu knew that getting close to others was a troublesome affair, and it always ended up in someone getting hurt. 

When he saw you though, it’s like he knew that the cold facade he put up was a lie.

Normally, Pillar meetings only happened at the end of every other month for regular reports and for the others to catch up and to exchange information. This time, however, Oyakata-sama called for them to introduce a new member that would stand among them as a new Pillar. 

Oyakata-sama introduced you as he did the others, stating your name, and your position as the Thunder Pillar, as well as telling you the names and positions of the current Pillars.

You seemed to be more on the quiet side, with only a soft, somehow strained smile painting your face set with admittedly attractive features. A young woman who was most likely around the age of nineteen or twenty, with a slightly hunched frame, and a death grip on the hem of your (f/c) haori sleeve. You seemed shy and nervous, but all of them knew that you must have possessed extraordinary skills to be able to reach the rank of a Pillar.

Giyuu stamps down an odd itch to stand and walk over to you, staying still as Oyakata-sama calls out his name for you.

Your introduction ended with a kind smile, and a question from the master. He asked if you were willing for a demonstration of your skills, to which you agree with a shy smile and a soft nod.

Unsheathing your sword, you took a deep breath—a loud whistling sound that seemingly shook the air and shocked the Pillars. For the shy woman they saw mere minutes ago to make such a loud sound with just breathing was a curious sight… but then suddenly, you were gone, only faint images of you visible all around the Ubuyashiki’s garden as you performed all six forms of the Thunder Breath.

You were quick and agile, possibly the fastest among all ten of you.

Everyone could hear the loud roll of thunder, but a quick look at the sky showed them that there was no storm—only you performing in the clearing, a dance so graceful and deadly. Despite having a hard time catching your movements, everyone was absolutely mesmerized by the sheer power you displayed, accompanied by the palpable static in the air. 

When you finished, everyone was staring with large eyes—even Giyuu was a little slack-jawed at your performance. You blushed with the weight of everyone’s stare while the master thanked you and urged you to take a seat.

You didn’t want to force your presence or insert yourself between anyone, so you resolved to take your place at the edge of the line-up. It was a tough choice though because one side had two men who seemed to scowl at the ground or at you, while the other had a man who looked impassive with blue eyes and black hair that contrasted well with his pale skin.

He seemed like he wanted to be left alone, but you’d rather sit beside him than feel the sharp glares of who you recalled were the Wind and Serpent Pillars on the other side.

Even if you made up your mind, you still flush as you kneel beside the attractive man; Giyuu wonders why his heartbeat seems to pick up.

The meeting didn’t take long, as the sole purpose of it was to introduce you and let everyone get acquainted, so Oyakata-sama ended it without any excess fanfare, taking his leave to allow the ten of you to mingle.

All of the Pillars rushed over to you, and Giyuu noticed how you jumped at their enthusiasm. There wasn’t any ill-intent—they were only eager to meet you, but you didn’t seem to be used to having eight people talk to you all at once, with how your mouth seemed to open and close like a fish.

The Water Pillar really wanted to talk to you for some odd reason, but seeing as how you already seemed extremely overwhelmed, he decided to do that later—maybe once the others let you breathe—and opted to stand by the sidelines. Not a minute later, however, three crows came flying by, one perching on his shoulders, one on Muichirou, and the other on Sanemi.

“Head to the forest by the town up… northeast!” His crow, Kanzaburo, squawked. “By the town northeast, children disappear! children disappear!”

He wasn’t able to hear what the other crows assigned to the Wind and Mist Pillars, but he was a little disappointed. He really wanted to talk to you, for a reason he could puzzle out later, but that would have to happen on another day.

He still had a job to do.

The next time Giyuu sees you is a couple of weeks later at a decently sized town.

He received notice from his crow that there was a demon trying to make this village its territory, which left him where he was now. The sun was out shining brightly, so he was using the time to gather intel by listening around for any mention of strange disappearances or odd sightings. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened to him at that town with the Matagi Hunters and Shinobu, so he stayed within hearing range, acting as inconspicuous as he could with a sword strapped to his side.

From the corner of his eye however, he catches something familiar—a trail of (h/c) hair and (f/c) haori.

Was that…?

Moving at a reasonable pace, he weaves around wandering merchants and people, slightly hoping for any other sign of you. He tried to be as polite as he could in moving around, but it seems that he already lost you once he reached the end of the crowd.

He heaves a heavy sigh after taking a seat on a bench far from the bustle, and the information, but it was about time for a break anyway.

What was it about you?

Why was he so curious to talk to you? Why was he so drawn as to chase after what he thought was you? There was something about you that made him want to get closer, to get to know you, even though he stopped himself a long time ago from forming connections to others.

Was it the strength you displayed? Was it your quiet disposition? Your pretty face?

He hoped he wasn’t as superficial to be drawn by that last one. You were pretty yes and he was willing to admit that, but he hoped that he wasn’t as shallow to want to talk to you for your looks. And yes, you were strong, but so were the other Pillars, and a lot of other demon slayers, but he didn’t feel the same pull to them as he did to you.

Giyuu throws his hands in the air. Making friends and thinking about you was making his head spin. “Focus, Giyuu.” He scolds himself and opens the wrapper of his salmon-filled rice ball.

He was about to take a bite when again, from the corner of his eye, he saw a trail of (h/c) hair and (f/c) haori. Giyuu immediately whirls his head to make sure if it was actually you and calls out before he could think about his actions. “(L/N)-san!”

When you turn around at the sound of your name, you gripped your sword in surprise only to face a pair of familiar blue eyes, and a haori split in two.

Giyuu turns back to his opened rice ball, quickly wrapping it back closed, and stands abruptly, jogging to where you were standing.

“I’m not sure if you remember but, I wasn’t able to personally introduce myself last time. My name is Giyuu Tomioka, and I’m the Water Pillar.” Giyuu wanted to give himself a pat on the back. He sounded literate.

Of course, you remember him. You kind of wanted to say that it was stupid of him to think that he was forgettable. You remember feeling a little disappointed when he left before you had a chance to talk to him. But you immediately squashed down that feeling because you could talk to him now—!

Giyuu pauses, waiting for you to reply as you seem to look for something at your side, but your eyes widen and seem to look at everywhere but him. “Is there anything wrong?” He asks and worriedly watches as your face turns into a deep red.

You raise both your hands in front of you and shake your head, even if there really was something wrong. You start to amble backward—and Giyuu couldn’t see it, but you could feel your palms and your forehead sweating bullets—an apology at the tip of your tongue, that would never be heard.

“(L/N)-san?” At the sound of his voice, you bowed deeply, almost at a ninety-degree angle from the ground. Giyuu was trying to process the reason you were bowing so deeply that he didn’t even realize that you’ve already turned around and scurried out of there.

The Water Pillar was confused out of his wits. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes blinking and squeezing shut, before ultimately collapsing back at the bench he was sitting on. “Was it something I said?”

Maybe his habit of pushing others away was catching up to him.

The sun sets not long after Giyuu finishes his salmon rice ball.  He pushes his encounter with you at the back of his mind as he places the folded wrapper into his uniform pocket and moves towards the portion of the forest he heard townspeople gossip about. On the way, he could see that people were already closing up shops and walking hurriedly to their homes.

At the edge of the forest, Giyuu feels the tangible difference in the air and tenses up once he senses the demon. The presence felt so thick, that the raven-haired man was itching to cut the air with his Nichirin blade.

This isn’t good.

He fastens his pace and he grips his sword tighter, his heart already pounding a mile a minute despite keeping his stoic expression. It almost felt like the demon was already there at his side, surrounding him with its presence.

He stops at a clearing, a round opening with barely any moonlight seeping through, and stops when he spots his target. He unsheathes his blade and rushes in with his sword held high.

Not even a meter from the demon, he hears a growl, and a hand darts out managing to snag the exposed sleeve of the skin of his face. Immediately, he twists his body into a flip, before landing deftly on his feet, safe from a distance away. He wanted to scold himself for being caught off guard by something he should have easily sensed.

So there were tw- no, now there were three.

As he was moving into a defensive stance, he didn’t notice the two demons regroup and he sure as hell didn’t notice a third one join in.

Giyuu parries an incoming attack and dodges a cheap hit they tried to land. He sees an opening when the three try to surround him, breathing quick and deep as he jumps up and slashes one body into multiple parts.

Water Breathing Fourth Form: Striking Tide!

The head drops with a loud thump, and when two more appear in place as the severed body parts start to disintegrate, Giyuu just wants to groan out loud.

There were now four when there were previously three, and at this point, Giyuu was certain that there were more hiding in between the trees and the blind spots of his vision. He couldn’t stay on the defensive forever, and going on the offensive when there were others left too many openings for his liking.

One of the demons was about to try and swipe a hit while Giyuu was distracted with parrying. The arm was an inch away, but with the roll of thunder and a flash of lightning, the arm previously reaching for him sat torn on the ground.

You rushed into the clearing in a blazing glory once you sensed a demon on your patrol around town. In the heat of the battle, you leave your embarrassment and stand defensively against his back, and in an impulsive thought, Giyuu connects the fact that you might have been sent to the same mission he was on.

Ah, maybe that was why he saw you in town.

You were sent on the same mission; perhaps to cooperate—he did go on missions with the others Pillars at times despite wanting to work alone—but if that was the case, it didn’t explain why you ran from him earlier. Maybe you only realized it now too?

Regardless, he was incredibly grateful you arrived when you did because about fifteen more dropped into the clearing.

One ordinary demon was usually no trouble for demon slayers, but having multiple of them like this was a little trickier. They fought dirty, desperate for survival, and it was so, so easy to make mistakes in the heat of the battle—even for the higher ranked and, in extension, more experienced members of the corps like them.

Having a large group of demons like this was strange though because demons preferred to move alone or at least in smaller groups of two or three, at most six. This is probably the most Giyuu has seen in one place.

The two of you were a blur as an unspoken agreement passed. He’d deal with half, and you would deal with the other, and with that all sorted out, the fight was over in a little less than twenty or so minutes, both your swords being sheathed into its respective scabbards.

Giyuu gulps in a breath of air, his hands over his knees as he wheezes out a few words. “Thank you for the help (L/N)-san, one of them almost got me.”

Your heart beats a little faster—not from the battle but from the soft, relieved smile on Giyuu’s face. Why didn’t he smile more often? He looked absolutely beautiful.

“Oh, are you alright?” His eyes widen at the bleeding cut on your right arm. You almost wanted to laugh, because he looked much worse than you did with bleeding scratches that marred his handsome face. 

A chuckle escapes your lips and you dust off your right hand on the fabric of your uniform, reaching down the pocket of your skirt to pull out a pristine handkerchief. Gently, you press it to his bloody wound, and the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric felt pleasant against your cool fingers.

You hold it there, discreetly checking over him for any more wounds and time seems to pass by the both of you.

Giyuu swallows nervously. His stomach was flipping around, but he was sure he had no wounds around that area. “(L/N)-san?” 

You seem to snap out of it when he calls your name, your hand flinching away from his face and the handkerchief sticking from the blood. He could see the red rush to your neck and up your cheeks, to the tips of your ears. You looked kind of cute.

He stares at you as you move forward in your odd ninety-degree angle bow, and was about to ask why you were bowing, but only realized too late what you were doing once you ran off. Again.

His old crow perches wearily on his shoulder, seeming to huff before delivering a message Giyuu had already anticipated.

“Pillar Meeting! Pillar Meeting! Arrive three hours before noon!” He was aware that the Pillar Meeting was today. The only reason he wasn’t rushing to get there was that he didn't want to arrive only for it to be canceled, or moved at another time. That would be a waste of time.

“Thank you, Kanzaburo.”

Pillar Meetings usually happened in the daytime, mostly in the morning. Sometimes it’s at high noon, or when dawn breaks, maybe even before the sun sets, but rarely at night. That was when they were on duty after all, and those only happen in the direst of situations.

He arrived just on time. The others were already gathered loosely in the line-up formation they unspokenly kept, making small talk over matters Giyuu couldn’t hear. You weren’t there though. You were most likely late, but that didn’t stop him from letting his shoulders sag in slight disappointment. He was hoping to talk to you before the meeting started.

It was just his luck that you arrived a minute before Oyakata-sama did when he was already making a move to walk over to you.

He swallows down a sigh as he kneels at his spot at the edge of the line-up between Uzui and you. Giyuu liked being at the edge or at the farthest side of any kind of gathering because it always provided him with an opening to leave when he wanted, but with your newfound presence on his left side, he finds himself not minding as much as he thought he would.

The meeting carried on as usual, almost as if you were always there in the first place. One by one, the other Pillars gave their oral reports of the past month, and when Giyuu was done relaying his information, including that mission with you, he was a little surprised when you stood from your position beside him and walked towards the master’s seat when he gave a nod with his comforting smile in your direction.

You reach in your pocket and pull out a pristine roll of paper with the barest mark of black ink bleeding through. It was tied with a red braided cord that the master pulls when you hand it to him with a respectful bow. The master asks one of his children at his side to take it and read the contents.

Giyuu was a little confused. The others didn’t seem to find it odd, he notes when he takes a quick glance at his comrades. But he wonders why you didn’t speak choosing to hand in a written report. He decides to push it out of his mind. It wasn’t his business anyway.

Everything continues on, the meeting ending not long after that. All of the Pillars stood and bowed as Oyakata-sama left with the help of his children, as per usual, but Giyuu has never felt so relieved when the meeting finished as he did now.

The others were already talking among themselves while four of them left for missions assigned directly during the meeting, leaving him, you, Gyomei, Kyojurou, Mitsuri, and Muichirou. Normally, this is where Giyuu would take his leave, with or without the excuse of a mission, but to everyone’s surprise, he stays and walks up to you.

He stops at a respectable distance from you and nods politely at your right arm. “I hope your arm is okay.”

The Pillars pretended that they weren’t listening in (though Muichirou didn’t have to because he was already busy staring at the clouds) and they were doing their best to carry on a half-hearted conversation to keep up with the guise that they were minding their own business.

Your slightly spooked expression morphs into a small smile—Giyuu couldn’t help but think that you had a lovely smile—and your mouth opens, almost on its way to producing a word towards him. He didn’t notice it, but he was leaning a little closer in anticipation of the sound of your voice.

It immediately shuts back down, however, and your cheeks flush a charming shade of red as embarrassment flits across your face. Instead of speaking, you give him a respectful nod, pointing to his bandaged face, and giving a thumbs up. Then you turn back to the others with a small wave of your hand before you’re suddenly gone, your body bowing yet again as you move incredibly fast to the garden gates.

Everyone watches the gates you pushed open swing back close with a creak that sounded all over the garden.

Giyuu wanted to slap himself.

His mind flashes back to the conversation he had with Kyojuro and Mitsuri as he was walking at a bustling street in a village on the way back to his estate. He felt incredibly stupid that he was only able to connect the dots when someone spelled it out for him.

Giyuu, Kyojurou, and Mitsuri sit around the training room of the Love Pillar’s estate.

Giyuu wandered into Mitsuri’s home after he decided to ask for advice, help, anything at all to understand what he was doing wrong. You seemed close to the pink-haired woman—you two were always beside each other before and after meetings after all—and he thought that Mitsuri was nice and cheerful, so maybe asking her for advice about you wouldn’t be so bad.

When Mitsuri opens her door, she’s shocked to see the Water Pillar standing there. “Wah! Tomioka-san!”

“Uh, hello, Kanroji-san,” Giyuu greets awkwardly. “I have a question to ask you.”

“Oh, of course, no problem, come on in! I was about to make some food for us!”

He didn’t account for the fact that Mitsuri might have company over so when he sees Kyojuro after Mitsuri leads him to her training room, it seems that he would have to settle for talking to both the Love Pillar and the Flame Pillar. Oh well, having two opinions was better than one. He hoped that saying was true.

“Oh, Tomioka! Did you come to train? Kanroji and I are just taking a break if you want to spar.” Kyojuro asks when the Water Pillar takes a seat.

“No, I… just wanted to ask for some advice.”

Mitsuri must have heard all the way from her kitchen because not a moment too soon, she barges through the door with three plates in hand piled high with food. “Advice?! Is that related to your question?” Giyuu nods and takes the plate she offered. “Well, ask away—I love these kinds of things!”

He starts by recalling the day of the mission he had with you. How he called out for you to formally introduce himself in the afternoon, how he asked if you were alright in the evening after the battle with nearly twenty demons, and how you ran away from him both times with your tail between your legs. He ends with his painfully one-sided conversation with you after the meeting a few days ago, and the ever-present question of why you keep running away. (But Mitsuri and Kyojuro already knew about that part—Tomioka speaking to anybody on his own volition was a rare sight. Of course, they listened in.)

This was the most Mitsuri and Kyojuro ever heard Giyuu speak, though and they reckon it was the most he’s ever spoken at all. But they brush that off and look at each other, deciding if they should tell him what they thought everyone already knew.

“Well, you see…” Mitsuri plays with the hem of her uniform. “Tomioka-san… (Y/N) lost her voice in a battle with a lower moon. She won and became a Pillar because of it, but…”

By the slight widening of his eyes, they were able to confirm that no, he didn’t know.

Kyojuro draws his brows together, swallowing a bite of food from the plate Mitsuri handed him. “Though, it’s odd that she keeps running away. (Y/N)’s shy—that much is obvious, but she was able to talk to us. She uses this large notepad, almost the size of my arm, but she rarely uses it because she says it’s a bother to carry around.” 

“Maybe she was embarrassed?” Mitsuri hmm’s for a moment at her mentor. She taps a finger on her chin, her head tilted slightly to the side as she suggests. But then she gasps, leaning closer to inspect Tomioka in a new light. “Or maybe she likes you! Wahh~”

“Oh gods,” he says, ignoring the last bit before dropping his head on his hands. “(L/N)-san can’t speak?”

You couldn’t talk.

He felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world and felt absolutely terrible for the many times he expected you to reply to him—that was rude and thoughtless of him. 

Ignorance would never be an excuse for his insensitivity, but It was just like him to mess up this badly the first time he genuinely wanted to talk to his peers.

Though, he could only imagine what you felt.

Banging his head on the wall sounded like a mighty fine idea, but doing that in the middle of a busy street might make people think that he was crazy. Not that he really cared for what people thought of him but that might get him tied up for prison. He still wasn’t over that mission.

On his way back to his estate, he sees a man his age gesturing in strange motions with his hands towards a kid, around eight or ten years old. He watches as the man and the kid form figures with their palms and fingers, letting them move towards their mouth, their chest, parts around their faces, in turns. The Water Pillar has seen it before, but only now, with the revelation he just had an hour prior, did he ever question it. What were they doing with his hands? It’s almost as if they were…

“You need something, Boy?” A lady behind him speaks.

The raven-haired man jolts in surprise, and the voice laughs. He didn’t notice that he was staring, nor blocking the entrance of a shop.

Giyuu turns to find a kind-looking elderly woman, leaning over the stall of her shop watching the kid interact with the man who he presumed was a relative.

“Ah no, I’m sorry.”

She waves off his apology and grins when she notices that she got the attention of the fine-looking young man standing in front of her shop. “It’s amazing, huh? Talking with the use of hands. Pretty useful if I do say so myself.”

Getting out of the way and moving to a polite distance, closer to the shop, Giyuu asks politely, “What are they doing exactly?”

“You must be new around here huh? Explains why I’ve never seen that face.” No, he just didn’t leave in the day that often, even if the village was right down the hill of his estate. “They’re talking, I reckon—‘bout what can’t say for sure. I’ve only caught a few gestures when that little boy drops by.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a shame though, his brother—the young man—can’t speak, but on the bright side, they can communicate at least. Those fancy gestures they’re doing are pretty fascinating, you’d have to admit.” Both of them turn back to the kid and his brother.

“It is.” Giyuu agrees because it is amazing. Talking without the use of voices, only with the use of movements. There was something elegant about the way their hands would move around, how the expressions on their faces seemed to also be included in how they communicated. He found it absolutely mind-blowing that the way they gesture around carries an entire language.

When he turns back to the old woman, only then did he notice her wares and the items on display around the shelves. Maybe he could make it up to you.

“Is this for sale?” He asks, and the woman laughs loudly.

“Of course it is Boy, this is a shop after all.” She ushers him further into her store. She knows that look on his face, and old women like her were always eager to help a young man in love treat his lady right.

You were training in the courtyard of your estate when a loud knock stops you from swinging.

The training sword in your grasp drops unceremoniously as you grab the small towel on your engawa, wiping at your face. You would normally shout that you were going to get the door but there was the issue of your voice, and the Thunder estate was too big…

You try to drown out your negativity by rushing to the door before your visitor left. The door swishes open, and to your complete and utter embarrassment, the Water Pillar was there.

Oh Gods, was he here to call you a total dunce for running away from him?

“Ah, (L/N)-san, sorry to barge in on you but I wanted to a —um… t-talk? Just for a bit. It’ll be quick, I promise.” He sounds nervous—even if his face was still a little blank—but you give him a nod, and timidly move aside to let him in. He says a quick thank you before setting his zori to the side of your entrance.

As you lead him to your engawa, you could feel your nerves start to fray and short-circuit. You gesture for him to take a seat while you point to your home, wordlessly telling him to wait.

When you come back from the kitchen with a tray of tea, you hand him a cup before taking a seat a few feet away from him. You faintly hear his sharp inhale before he turns to you and speaks. “Um, I’m really sorry if I offended you on our past encounters. I didn’t know that you couldn’t… couldn’t speak.”

You were relieved that he didn’t seem to be here to call you out, but you were quick to move and shake your head and your hands from side to side. No, it’s not your fault! you would have said, but you hoped that your actions were enough to speak for you.

“No, it is, I’m really sorry. It was rude and inconsiderate of me, and I hope you could forgive me.” He bows a little, and you were starting to get a little flustered. “I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll take these as a token of my apology.”

You watch as he fumbles with his pocket, and brings out a nicely wrapped paper bag. Gingerly, you take it when he offers it to you, and wordlessly ask if you could open it.

He nods and you peek into the contents. Inside was a stack of small paper bound together by string and designed with fabric the same pattern as your haori, and a small metal pen set with simple but delicate carvings.

“It’s a small notebook and a fountain pen,” Giyuu explains, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. He could feel the skin burning along with his ears. “It’s small enough to put in the pocket of our uniform, so you could bring it around. I thought that you could use it to talk with others, but in hindsight, maybe you already have one of those. You don’t have to use it of course, but it would be nice if you did, but you don’t have to feel obligated to or—!”

A small giggle escapes your lips, and you flip open the pretty notebook he gave you and uncapped the pen, writing down words in your neat script. You show what you’ve written to him, a pink blush coloring your cheeks.

[Thank you, I love it! This is so much easier to bring than a large notepad and a bulky bottle of ink. I’ll be sure to bring it with me always!]

The Water Pillar lets out a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding and his face unconsciously morphs into a small smile, warming his cold facade by a mile. “I’m glad. I could bring you there if you run out of pages. If you’d like.”

The blush deepens as you turn back to the notebook.

[I would like that.]

BONUS:

The Pillars were no longer surprised when you and Tomioka entered the Ubuyashiki’s garden together. It’s been like that for the past couple of meetings, and finally, they were able to get used to the cold, stoic, normally silent Giyuu Tomioka talking to the warm, shy, and more social (Y/N) (L/N). Everyone found it ironic though that the Thunder Pillar who could no longer speak was more talkative than the Water Pillar who could.

These past few meetings have also been different than the first two you participated in. You were more open and seemed to be smiling more. You even showed them the thoughtful gifts Giyuu gave you—though that was more of an accident than anything.

“Oh, (F/N)-chan!” Mitsuri squeals when you habitually pull out the notebook and the pen from your pocket to answer a question Uzui asked you. You were used to using the notebook to talk with others now. “That’s a really pretty notebook! Where did you buy it?”

The answer you were in the middle of writing sits unfinished as you move to answer Mitsuri’s question first.

[Ah, I didn’t get it, Giyuu gave it to me.]

Everyone was paying attention to your little notebook — it was actually really nice of them to be paying such close attention to your words when you couldn’t speak — and their eyes seemed to bug out of their sockets when they read the name ‘Giyuu’.

The Pillars’ heads immediately dart over to the man in question, and Giyuu immediately turns his face to the side, pretending like he wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t fooling anyone, with how red his ears appear to be.

Mitsuri inwardly screeches at the Water Pillar’s expression (but Obanai seems to have noticed anyway). She couldn’t keep it in though when she and the others turned back to you, your cheeks painted a charming shade of red.

When you arrived early or had no mission after a meeting, you would even show them a few signs from the new language you’ve been learning. Japanese Sign Language, as you and Giyuu would call it. Sometimes, he would join in if there was one you forgot.

“That’s interesting,” Muichiro says, actually looking at you instead of the clouds.

”I never knew you could talk with your hands!” Kyoujuro looks down at his hands, as he repeats one of the signals you just taught them. “It’s spectacular!”

“Yes, it is.” Shinobu agrees, an idea forming in her head—maybe she could suggest sign language to some of her patients who lost the ability to speak. “You should teach us any more you learn (F/N)-chan. It would be nice if we could talk that way, and I could teach some of my patients too!”

You would pull out your notebook though when you didn’t know how to sign what you had to say.

[It’s all thanks to Giyuu! When we’re both free, we go down together to the village close to his estate and learn from one of the people there. Oh, that’s also the village where he got this notebook for me!]

That was news to them. First, the gift, and now the two of you were together even in your spare time? Though, they had to admit that it was incredibly sweet of him to accompany and learn along with you, even if he didn’t have to. And they also found it cute when he would unconsciously turn to you, touching you gently, and moving your hands to the proper position. But Obanai and Sanemi would never admit that. They would rather fight an upper moon.

Occasionally after meetings, they would spot the two of you standing off to the side. Both of your hands would be moving around, a little too fast for them at times to really analyze what you two were talking about, but there were moments—and Mitsuri would swear on her life with this—where those hands didn’t move.

They would only hold onto each other, calloused thumbs brushing past each other’s knuckles. It was like the two of you were absorbed in your own world.

There was even this one time when she thought she saw Giyuu kiss your forehead. (Later on, you two would explain that you thought no one was looking. You were hiding behind your notebook in embarrassment, while Giyuu’s face was flushed— as red as an apple).

Nobody knew this (well maybe you did — you had a knack for being able to understand Giyuu, with or without the help of signing or speaking), but Giyuu craved for interactions, even if he was successful in making others believe he didn’t. He was glad you saw through him though, and you were glad he let you into his world.

But no, what got their attention wasn't the two of you walking in together, it was your hands—your hands that used to be a few feet apart in constant movement were now all joined and tangled fingers. And what’s more, was that Tomioka was smiling. It was probably at something you said, nothing new, but a closer look told them that he was smiling, because you were holding his hand.

The meeting started later than usual. Not even Oyakata-sama’s presence was enough to stop the questions his cute little swordsmen have been dying to ask the two of you for months.

It was further pushed when Mitsuri screamed looking away from the huddle she and the other pillars were in, pointing to you who just pulled away from kissing Giyuu’s cheek (you two thought you were being discreet). “See? I’m right, now pay up people! And stop calling me crazy!“ 

She was 5,000 yen richer by the time the meeting started, and she fully intended to spend it on sakura mochi.

A/N:  Even if it was in the tags and the ask, I tried to reveal that bit of info as giyuu discovered it, so I hope some of you were still surprised (even just a little!!) when it was revealed that Reader couldn’t talk. Again, I hope you enjoyed, and thank you to @trueblueoceaneyes for the request uwu (requests are still open!!)

[miracleonice87]

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch60: Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart.

Intro: Katie bids an emotional farewell to her brother, as the rest of the world pays their respects.

Warnings: “Language!”  Major angst- get the tissues ready.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So we’re almost there! One chapter after this plus the epilogue. I can’t thank @angrybirdcr​ enough for her edits!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 59

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 “Hey.” A deep voice roused Katie from her thoughts and she looked up to see Bucky walk into the kitchen wearing a pair of black sweats and a red Henley. “I would ask if you were okay but it’s a stupid question.” “I appreciate the sentiment.” She smiled at him. “Coffee is fresh, just don’t tell Steve I’ve been drinking it. He’ll only bitch and moan about caffeine being bad for the baby.” Bucky smiled. “My lips are sealed.” He moved further into the room, helping himself to a mug from the cupboard before he made himself a drink. He sat down opposite his best friend’s wife and just took her in for a moment. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she looked pale and tired. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her and just how much she was going through. Finding out you’re pregnant again, with a baby you lost whilst having to come to terms with the death of your brother, the brother you had long since thought of as a father, couldn’t be easy for anyone.

He took a sip of his drink and leaned forward slightly. “So how are you really feeling?”

She looked at him for a moment before she took a deep breath. “If I’m honest, lost.” She sniffed slightly as her eyes filled with tears. “All my life Tony has been there and the thought now that he’s not, and never will be again.” She wiped at her face, “You know Buck, for the last week I’ve felt like I’ve been in a bad dream but yesterday, getting that message and today, it just makes it so real, so final you know?” Bucky smiled softly and reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “You’ll get through this. I know all things considered we haven’t really known each other that long but I do know you’re made of strong stuff.” “I don’t feel like it at the moment.” “You have to be to put up with Stevie.” He joked, making her give a watery chuckle. “Just remember you’re not on your own.”  "I know,” Katie smiled, her eyes brimming with tears, “and Steve’s been amazing, he really has. You all have.” “Yeah, he ain’t bad for a punk.” Bucky smiled making her chuckle slightly as he let go of her hand. “Talking about me again?” Steve’s warm voice hit their ears and Katie glanced up, smiling at him as he leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, the fact he was dressed almost identically to his friend only with a blue Henley made her smile. “Yes.” Bucky nodded. Steve rolled his eyes and pushed off the frame. He crossed the room and dropped a kiss to Katie’s head before his hand gently brushed her face. “It’s early, Doll.” He gently tipped her face to look up at him. “You were so tired last night.” “Yeah I woke about an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Steve looked at her for a second, he’d much rather she’d have lay in for an extra hour or so, all things considered but he knew she would be stressing about today so there wasn’t any point in dwelling on it.

“You want any breakfast?” He asked her, dropping his hand back to his hip. “Not really but yes, before you say it I know I have to eat.” “French toast?” He asked and she pondered for a moment. He knew that was her favourite breakfast. And she knew that he knew. “We got any strawberries?” She asked eventually, with a faint smile.

He nodded. ”What’s French toast without the fruit?” “Wait,” Bucky pointed at Steve, “you’re cooking?”

“And?” Steve looked at him.

“The last time I remember you trying to do that you nearly burnt your apartment down and my mom banned you from ever trying again.” He snorted as he looked at Katie. “She insisted on making him food parcels!" 

"He’s actually pretty good.” Katie shrugged and Steve preened a little at her praise, flipping Bucky off with a smug grin. “He makes a wicked carbonara but breakfasts are his speciality. Jamie loves his pancakes, says they’re better than mine”

“I had a good teacher.” Steve gave her a wink before he crossed to the cupboard and pulled out the brioche.

“Think I’ll go grab a shower before the kids wake up.” Katie pushed back from the table, her hand falling to her stomach. ”And before this little peanut realises I’m awake and makes me puke my guts up again.”

Steve watched her go before he sighed and moved to the fridge to grab the eggs.

“She’ll be okay, pal.” Bucky assured him “Today’s gonna be hard but she’s got everyone around her.”

“She should be taking it easy.” Steve shook his head. “She had a rough time with sickness and tiredness when she was pregnant with Jamie up until the six month mark and this stress can’t be good for either of them.”

He trailed off as Emmy walked into the kitchen, yawning, pulling her long brown hair into a braid. “Morning, Sweetie, you want some French toast?” Steve asked as she moved to give her dad a hug, still half asleep. She nodded and made an appreciative noise before she turned to grab the orange juice from behind him in the fridge. Pouring a glass she sat at the table and said good morning to Bucky before she picked up the remote.

The three of them instantly looked at the screen when a familiar voice hit their ears. “Tony Stark was a good man.” Secretary Ross was speaking to the journalist “I had the privilege to know him well. He had th-” At that Emmy turned the channel over. “Dick.” She mumbled under her breath. Bucky caught Steve’s eye, the pair of them sharing a grin, Steve choosing not to chastise her for her language.

“Good morning to you too!” Sam grinned as he walked into the kitchen. Emmy looked at him before she chuckled.

“Not you, Ross.” “Ah. Well, no arguments from me there” Sam shrugged, heading to the coffee pot.

“Katie punched him you know.” Steve decided to interject a little bit of light heartedness into the morning. All three of them turned to face him as Sam let out a snort.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile. 

“Well, come on Pops, tell us!” Emmy urged.

“It was just after the snap. Katie went with Rhodey to give President Ellis a briefing. She had a disagreement with Ross, and then as she was leaving he made some snarky comment so she gave him a right hook, a pretty good one too according to Rhodey.” Sam and Bucky both exchanged a look, Sam nodding in approval, a grin split across his face. “Nice.”

“You know,” Bucky looked at him, “the more I hear and see of your Missus, the more I think I’m in love with her myself.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started to whisk the obscene number of eggs he had placed in the bowl. By the time he had finished making everyone breakfast, Katie was back at the table in a towel robe, hair damp, having brought Jamie down. No sooner had Steve placed her plate of food in front of her, she was up again, running to the downstairs bathroom to throw up.

“Is Momma sick?” Jamie asked, looking at Steve who smiled at him.

“She’s fine pal, the new baby is just making her feel a little funny, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Jamie looked back at the door his mom had disappeared through before he picked up his fork and began to dig into the chopped up French toast and fruit that was on his plate.

Katie wandered back in a few minutes later and sat back at the table, pinching the bridge of her nose. Steve watched as she pushed her food around her plate for a bit, before she took a few bites. Satisfied that she was eating something he tucked into his own.

Once breakfast was done the house was a flurry of activity as people got ready. Katie, having already showered, simply had to fix her hair and make-up. She set Jamie’s outfit out for him and Emmy offered to help him dress to give her chance to get herself sorted, which she was grateful for. “Stevie?” Katie asked him as he stood in front of the mirror, doing his tie and he caught her eye in the reflection. “Can you zip me up please?”

She turned round and Steve moved, his fingers softly pulling up the zipper of her black dress before he dropped a kiss to her neck as his arms wrapped around her waist, hands flattening on her stomach.

“No bump yet.” He muttered softly and she smiled.

“I’ll be fat again soon enough.” Her hands fell over his, her fingers lightly tracing over the cool metal of his wedding band.

“I can’t wait.” He grinned as she snorted.

“I swear you have some kind of breeding kink.” “Not as such, I just love you and love the fact my baby is in there.” He pulled her back so she was pressed into him slightly. “I loved the changes I saw last time.” “You’re only hoping my boobs get bigger again.” She teased and he smiled, arching an eyebrow.

“Can you blame me?”

“Captain Bad Ass is a pervert, who knew?” She chuckled before she turned in his arms and straightened the knot on his tie slightly, smoothing her hands down his chest. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I’m scared, Steve.”

Instantly understanding he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her back “Don’t be. I’ll be right there okay? It’ll be over soon enough.”

“The funeral might be.” Katie sighed. “But I’m not sure losing him will ever be over.” “You’re right it won’t” Steve agreed, and she looked at him “It’s almost ninety years since my ma died. Okay, granted most of them I was on ice for but she died when I was eighteen. There’s still not a day goes past where I don’t think about her or miss her.”

He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun out of her face and smiled softly. “But it does get easier. I promise you will one day be able to look back on your memories of Tony and be happy that he was your brother and such a big part of your life.”

He placed a gentle kiss onto her lips before a loud shout from the hallway told them the car had arrived. They made their way downstairs and Katie smiled at Jamie who was dressed in a black suit almost identical to Steve’s.

“Look at my handsome, little man.” Katie beamed at him, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Here.” Steve tossed the keys to his Audi to Bucky, who caught them effortlessly in his right hand.

“See you there.” Bucky nodded to Steve who smiled at his friends as they left.  

*****

It was busy outside the Cathedral. The surrounding street and road had been shut off and the sidewalks around the temporary barriers were packed with members of the public and press as they all clamoured round. Katie found the whole thing hideous, and her hand tightened on Steve’s as the car pulled to a stop just outside the building.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She whispered and Steve turned to look at her. She was chewing her lip and shaking slightly. He glanced back at Emmy who was on the row behind.

“Em, take Jamie in okay. We’ll be there in a second.” She nodded. “Come on short stuff.” She smiled at her brother as someone opened the door for them. Jamie looked at his dad for a moment but Steve nodded and he followed Emmy, slipping his hand into hers as they headed into the building, Bucky and Sam both meeting them by the door.

“Give us a second.” Steve spoke to the man who had opened their door and he nodded, gently closing it.

“Look at me.” Steve turned to his wife and she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. “I know this is daunting, but you just gotta get through this bit. As soon as this is over, then it’s back to the lake house and there’ll be none of this or them around.” He waved his hand gesturing outside.

“I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” His voice was soft, but stern, he knew he had to be to keep her calm. “Baby, you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re not on your own, I got you. If it starts getting too much in there you just let me know and I’ll get you out, I promise, okay?”

Katie took a deep breath and looked at her husband as he gently cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She had to do this, she had to. And she knew Steve would look after her. With a deep breath she nodded and he dropped a soft kiss to her lips before he turned and opened the door.

The minute she was out of the cars the cameras started flashing and she gripped Steve’s hand even tighter. He moved so his arm was around her, pulling her close, almost shielding her from the attention as he walked purposefully into the Cathedral Grounds, his eyes not once looking round. In a few seconds they were through the gates and mostly out of the way of the public and he felt Katie relax a little as she let out the breath she had been holding when Jamie ran to her, wrapping his arms round her legs.

“Momma, I just met the Priest. He says his name is James too!” “Wow!” Katie smiled down at her son. “Only the best people are called James.” “So that’s me, Uncle Bucky and the Priest!” Jamie ticked them off on his small fingers, beaming at her. She gave a soft chuckle as he slipped his little hand into hers. It wasn’t long before the funeral party arrived, Pepper and Morgan climbing out of the first car with Happy, the Hearst behind carried her Brother’s coffin. Katie smiled as she saw it was adorned with a wreath of greenery and country wild flowers which, in the centre, boasted the first Arc Reactor he had developed, which Pepper had framed for him all those years ago. ‘Proof Tony Stark has a heart’ was engraved on the metal halo surrounding it. It had been Pepper’s idea of a joke at the time, but Tony had insisted on keeping it by his desk ever since she gave it to him.

As Steve, Rhodey, Clint and Happy all stepped forward to take a corner of the coffin each, Bruce moved behind them, one large hand resting on the back. Katie took hold of Emmy’s hand in her spare one, and the three of them followed on behind Pepper and Morgan, heading into the Cathedral as the familiar sounds of ‘Drops of Jupiter’ by Train hit their ears.

Steve’s eyes were already misting over by the time he was halfway down the aisle. Saying goodbye to people you loved never got any easier. And he had loved Tony, as a friend and a brother. He hadn’t been perfect, none of them were, and at times he had really tested Steve’s patience. But he had been a good man. Always doing right by the people he cared about. As they placed the coffin down, he heard Rhodey give a little chuckle and he glanced over at him, puzzled. Rhodey gestured to the picture of Tony that was on the table and as Steve looked at it he couldn’t help but laugh. It was a picture of Tony, giving the thumbs up to someone in what looked like a court room, Rhodey in the back ground, looking utterly exasperated.

 “It was a senate hearing.” Rhodey whispered. “He had just goaded Stern into telling him to go eff himself.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Steve smiled, as he moved to stand in the space next to Katie, who had Jamie settled on her hip, Emmy at her other side. He gave her a gentle squeeze around the shoulder and then they were told to sit down.

Katie couldn’t tell you what hymns were sung, despite the fact she had a hand in picking them, or what readings Rhodey and Banner read out. She was in a daze, until the time came (far too soon for her liking) for her to give the Eulogy.

Steve took Jamie off her knee and leaned over “You got this.” He whispered gently, kissing her cheek as she stood up and made her way, chin raised with as much dignity as she could manage, up the four steps to the pulpit.

“You know,” she coughed and cleared her throat, “I agonised for days over what to say here, stood in front of you all, and not to mention the many, many people watching outside. I trashed about fifty different sheets of paper because not one speech I wrote could ever do Tony justice. So, in the end I decided to go with the Stark favoured tradition, the one he started, and wing it.” She took a deep breath as  few chuckles rose from the large atrium, and looked out at the heaving Cathedral before she turned her attention to the front three rows which contained the people she loved and knew.

“From the day our Parents died, Tony took on the role of being my brother, my father and my mother, which for a twenty-one year old party animal is no mean feat. Not to mention the fact he had to get to grips with running a company as well. But he did it. And he did it well, I think. I mean I turned out okay, although my kids and husband might have something to say about that.” More chuckles rang out over the congregation and she paused, waiting for them to die down.

“I never wanted for anything as a child. I was incredibly lucky, I had so many opportunities others could only dream of. But if there was one thing Tony taught me, it was that I had to earn it. Ironic, yes given that we had more money than even he knew what to do with, but he made me understand that hard work pays off. And that’s something that has stuck with me always. Everything is earned, bar love. My brother loved me unconditionally, and I him. Even though he was a pain in the proverbial to live with at times.”

Pepper smiled at this and looked down at her hand which was wrapped around Morgan’s. To her right sat Happy who was also smiling. On the row behind them Steve sat with Jamie on his knee and Emmy to his right. He smiled up at his wife encouragingly, his chest bursting with pride at how well she was conducting herself.

“There was no Boarding School for me. After spending most of his Childhood in one, Tony vowed never to do the same to me or any of his kids, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.” Katie said sincerely, and she was. “I grew up in an unconventional, yet oh so loving environment. Yes, Tony was a party animal, I mean I lost track of the amount of times Pepper had to ‘take out the trash’…”

At that Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all laughed out loud at the little inside joke.

“But he was on the most discreet, until I got a little older that is and it became a running joke between us all. I can’t actually remember him ever introducing me to a serious girlfriend bar Pepper so congratulations Pep, you truly did tame Tony Stark.”

Katie bit her lip slightly as she felt herself wobble at the next set of words that formed in her mind.

“When I was a Kid, to me Tony was fun. He used to wrestle monsters under my bed with the Monster Killing machine, aka the Vacuum. He used to build ridiculous forts in the living room that would remain there for days during school holidays where we would hide out, eat pizza, junk and play games. He took me to Disney Land, to the Beach, to Aquariums, on holidays that were ridiculously elaborate. I was an extremely lucky little girl.  But then, when I got older, he stopped simply being my fun bigger brother and became my friend as well. When I passed my driving test we would regularly just go for drives to a Starbucks that was like ten miles away, just so we could spend time on the open road and sing like idiots as loud as we could. He held my hair back whilst I puked up after my first Keg Party aged seventeen. At twenty-one he took me to Vegas for the first time when I had graduated,” another pause and a deep breath, “but then I got older still, and he morphed from being this friend and big brother person into a true father figure and I knew one day he would make a spectacular dad. Something which was proven more recently when he welcomed his own daughter, Morgan into the world”

Steve watched as Katie rubbed her temple with her right hand, her left shifting down to her stomach, and she gave a sharp intake of breath before she looked at him and gave him a soft smile. Jamie waved at her and she wiggled her fingers back before she looked back up and over at the congregation.

“It breaks my heart when I think that he will never see Morgan start school or graduate from college. He’ll never have the chance to embarrass her awfully in-front of her friends in the many, many ways he could. He’ll never be sat, waiting with an Iron Man suit when the first boyfriend makes an appearance. He’ll never walk her down the aisle. All the things he did for me in his role as my father and I feel so guilty to have experienced those moments with him, whilst Morgan will never get the chance. We’ll all do our best to keep his memories alive but, as I know from experience, there’s only so much memories can do.”

And now she was beginning to break, and Steve could see the tears shining in her eyes, even before the first one fell. Her voice was thick when she spoke again.

“What has happened over the past five years in particular just serves as a reminder to us all that life is fragile. The time we have on this Earth is already short and we can’t lose sight of what matters the most. Friends, family, those who know us inside out and still love us all the same.” She paused, swallowing a little as she sniffed. “You know, Steve said something to me before that really struck a chord. Everyone says that time is a great healer, but it isn’t. You just learn to live with the new normal. It doesn’t stop you hurting, doesn’t stop you yearning for the ones you miss, the ones you love. And as long as you still love them, you’ll always grieve for them.”

She wiped at her face with both hands and took a shaky breath, and Steve willed her with everything he had to keep it together, just for the last few words she had to say.

“And we lost two people in our bid to bring everyone back. My brother and Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. One of the bravest, most loyal, kind and beautiful people, inside and out that I had the honour of knowing. And now I urge you all do something with your second chances so that their decision to give their lives so you could have yours wasn’t in vain. Make the most of the time you have been given, the people that have been returned to you. Grab the opportunities you can, with the people you love. Go on those trips, have that wine, eat that cheeseburger.”

She was now crying freely as she stole herself for her last line, looking at Steve who was handing Jamie over to Emmy and rising to his feet, ready to help her down as he knew she’d be shaky. “Iron Man wasn’t a hero.” Katie shook her head as she looked out over the large Cathedral, her vision blurred from her tears. “It was the man behind the mask. My brother. Anthony Edward Stark- Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist. Husband, Father, Brother, Friend.”

She stepped back from the podium, taking Steve’s hand shakily as he offered it to her, helping her down the steps.

 “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered softly in her ear, his own voice cracking with emotion as he kissed her temple, steering her back towards their seats. Jamie crawled onto her lap and kissed her cheek and she held her son tight, pressing her face into his soft, blonde hair as she desperately tried to quell the damn of sobs inside her that was threatening to burst out of her chest.

She made it through the rest of the ceremony, her hand tightly gripped round Steve’s but was beyond pleased when it was over. As the sounds of AC/DC ‘Back in Black’  rang around the Cathedral, those who knew Tony exchanged a grin, Jamie even doing a little jig in his dad’s arms as they headed outside.

“That was a beautiful speech.” Pepper smiled to Katie as they reached the courtyard, Steve taking Jamie over to speak to the priest as they boy was insisting. “He’d be so proud, you know that?”

“Thanks.” Katie nodded as she glanced at Morgan who was clinging to her mother’s leg. She had a sudden flashback to how she had done the same to Tony, hung on to him for dear life at their Parents’ funeral. Katie crouched down in front of her niece.

“Hey Moo, how are you feeling?”

“I miss Dad.” She whispered, her eyes watering up.

Katie tried desperately to keep her face from screwing up into a sob. “I miss him too, sweetie, I miss him a lot but you know something?” Morgan shook her head. “He’ll always be with you, with me, in here.” She tapped the spot over Morgan’s heart. “And we’ll have our special memories of how brave he was, how funny he was, how silly he was and how much he loved us all, okay?”

Morgan nodded softly before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her Auntie’s neck.

"But he’s not here.” Morgan whispered and at that Katie did start to cry again as she held Morgan close, looking up and making eye contact with Pepper who was watching the two with a look of pure sadness on her face, her own tears coursing down her cheeks.

No,” Katie took a shaky breath, “he isn’t, and that, well, it just sucks. No one can replace your dad but your mom is here, so am I, Uncle Spangles, Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy. So many people are gonna look after you and love you and keep you safe, I promise you that from the bottom of my heart.”

******

They left the Cathedral and the Media Circus behind, heading upstate to Tony’s lake house home arriving little under an hour or so later. Now, the remaining Avengers plus Rhodey, Happy, Pepper and Morgan were sat in Tony’s living room, as instructed, whilst everyone waited outside for the final part of the day’s ceremony whereby Pepper was going to release the wreath containing the arc reactor onto the lake, only this one would be attended by friends, family and those who had worked with Tony only. No public, no press.

A few people in the room knew what was coming when the helmet’s eye slits glowed with a bright white light, some didn’t. But no one jumped, they were that used to Tony’s theatrics that it didn’t come as a surprise.

A holographic Tony was pictured, sitting the wrong way around on a chair, elbows resting over the back of it and Katie realised he was wearing the same suit he had been wearing in the message he had left for her and Steve.

“So, err, hey!” Tony spoke, a smile flashing on his face. “I’m gonna keep this short, as we all know I don’t really like attention.” At that quiet laughter rang round the room and Steve dropped a hand onto Katie’s shoulder where she was sat on the couch, Jamie sat next to her, his hand wrapped around Morgan’ s.

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored.”

Katie reached up and took hold of Steve’s hand where it rest on her shoulder and he gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“If there ever was such a thing.” Tony continued, scratching his chin. “God, what a world. Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone, you know, to this extent,” he shook his head, “I mean, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, you know? The epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play.”

Even in the hologram Steve could see the glint in Tony’s eyes, almost portraying the innocent wonder of a child that had discovered something exciting for the first time. “And, for better or worse, that’s the reality Morgan and her cousins are gonna have to find a way to grow up in.”

Tony stilled slightly and his hand wiped over his mouth as he took a deep breath.

“So I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting… In the case of an untimely death,” Tony gestured outwardly with his hand, “ on my part. I mean, not that, death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's– it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing.” Tony’s hand rest against his mouth for a moment, the way it always had when he had been contemplating something before he shrugged and continued. “Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end.”

At that Katie took a shuddering breath and her fingers tightened around Steve’s as Tony got up off his chair and walked towards the camera. 

“What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” He leaned forward, hands on his knees and smiled, and then somehow his hologram looked directly at her. “To the stars and back.” Before it turned and looked straight at Morgan. “I love you three-thousand.”

The hologram faded, the eye sockets of the helmet died down, and for a horrible moment Katie was reminded of seeing the light of the Arc Reactor going out in Tony’s chest on the battle field, when she had seen the life drain from his eyes. She took a shaky breath and Steve dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“He always said he’d be the VIP at his own funeral.” Katie broke the silence as she wiped her tears, laughter breaking through the sniffing as the people in the room wiped their eyes.  

“I err,” Pepper cleared her throat, “let’s set the wreath on the lake. Then we can all have a few drinks and make Tony the centre of attention at a party, just how he liked it.”

They made their way outside, Pepper, carrying the wreath in one hand, heading up the line with Morgan followed by Rhodey and Happy, then Katie, Steve and their kids.

They reached the end of the jetty, and Pepper crouched besides Morgan and then she turned to look at Katie. Katie nodded to her, her eyes misting over, before she watched her sister-in-law and niece drop the wreath onto the lake. It landed with a soft splash and began to gently drift away in the wind. Steve stood with his arm round Katie, Jamie balancing on his other hip as he watched the wreath float across the water. Katie lay her head against Steve’s shoulders, allowing her silent tears to fall.

After a moment or two she raised her head slightly to glance at the people stood around, all saying their final good byes. Peter Parker, May Parker, Thor, Bruce Banner, Doctor Strange, Wong, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Janet Van Dyne, Hank Pym, Peter Quill, Nebula, Rocket, Groot, Drax, Mantis, T'Challa, Okoye, Shuri, Clint Barton & his family, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, and Harley Keener who Katie had met in Tennessee. Her eyes narrowed a little as she saw Secretary Ross next but then she instantly felt herself smiling again as she saw Maria Hill, Carol Danvers, and finally Nick Fury.

All people who had in some way or other loved, lived, laughed or fought alongside her brother, and seeing them today made her feel warm, just like she had at Natasha’s service. 

Katie smiled as she realised they were the real proof that Tony Stark had a heart. Them, and billions of other people who had been brought back to life thanks to his bravery. 

Eventually, in their own time, everyone drifted from the jetty but the Rogers-Stark family remained put a little longer, until the wreath had practically hit the middle of the lake when Jamie announced he was hungry. With a chuckle they all turned back towards the house and where the food was laid out, people already tucking in. 

Katie couldn’t tell you how long passed. But she found herself alone, simply watching Morgan and Jamie as they sat with Happy on the porch. She caught the words cheeseburgers and smiled to herself before a deep voice drew her attention.

“Little Stark.” Katie turned and Thor pulled her forward into a strong yet gentle hug “I am so very sorry I couldn’t…” “Stop.” Katie shook her head “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This was his choice.”

“I just wish I could have stopped him that day in Wakanda. Then we wouldn’t-” “Don’t torture yourself Thor.” Katie shook her head, “We’ve all done enough of that for the past five years.”

He sniffed and nodded, before looking out over the lake “I’m going travelling again.” He informed her “Back to space.” “Yeah?” She smiled.

He nodded, “with the Guardians. We can be the-” he paused before he laughed “-the Asgardians of the Galaxy. Yes, I think I will suggest that to them.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it!” Katie grinned.

“I’m going to leave Valkyrie in charge of New Asgard. She doesn’t know it yet but she’s the natural one for the job” He concluded, nodding.

“I’m all for women in positions of power.” Katie smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be great.” “You’ll have to keep in touch with her, take the Captain and the Little Rogers, including the one you have on the way.” Thor looked at her, knowingly.

“How did you-” she began but he cut her off with a chuckle.

“I’m the god of Thunder.” He shrugged simply “Some things are beyond your Earthly senses, but not mine.”

Katie smiled, her eyes flicking down to her stomach. “Bruce brought it back. But we just didn’t think it was right telling everyone, not until the funerals were out of the way.”

Thor nodded. “I understand. Your secret is safe with me.” He gave her another hug before she pulled back, tears in her eyes knowing this was a goodbye.

“You will stay in touch this time, right?” “Of course.” Thor smiled, gently touching the side of her neck in a sign of affection. “Always, Little Stark.”

And with that he turned and headed over the grass to the group of Guardians. Katie turned back to find her kids, but suddenly a wave of nausea overtook her and she sprinted back into the house and into the bathroom.

Meanwhile Steve was stood with Bruce. Neither of them had meant to get into the discussion they were having at the moment but, well, it was inevitable really.

“We have to take them back.” Bruce sighed. “It’s been weighing on my mind for a while now…” “I know.” Steve said, his eyes straying to where Emmy was stood talking to Peter Parker. He turned back to the man and looked up at him. “How long do you think it will be before you can get it running?” “Well, now Hank Pym is back, Scott doesn’t think it will be a problem. A week or so, maybe. They have a Quantum Tunnel we can extrapolate and plenty of particles so, we can even do it in a few different trips if needs be.”

Steve nodded. “Well do what you need to do, once it’s up and running we’ll formulate a proper plan.” Bruce nodded, and was about to speak again until a loud yell caught Steve’s attention.

“Daddy!” Jamie stood up, pointing to the house. “The baby made momma sick again.”

There was a pause as pretty much everyone on the lawn turned to look at Steve who hung his head giving a groan that their three year old had effectively outed them to the entire funeral party.

“Baby?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “You mean, the snap? It…” Steve nodded. “We didn’t want anyone to know, not yet, the funerals.” He sighed “Guess that ship just sailed.” Bruce’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m glad…I concentrated so hard on everything…” “I know.” Steve layed his hand on his arm. “And thank you…but I gotta…” he jerked his thumb towards the house and strode across the lawn, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting. As he did so his son’s face changed from one full of concern to worry.

“Daddy are you mad? Did I do something wrong?”

Steve cursed himself at being so easy to read. “No, buddy, you didn’t.” He crouched down.

“Momma’s sick.” Jamie urged him.

“I know, I’m gonna go find her and make sure she’s okay.” Steve assured him. “You stay here with Happy.”

He headed into the house and up to the bathroom, gently knocking on the door.

“Sweetheart?”

She opened the door and he looked at her, her face was streaked with tears and he sighed. “C’mere.” He opened his arms and she fell into them, his large hands rubbing at her back.

“I wanna go home.” She sniffled. “I’ve had enough, I’m so tired.” “Then we’ll go.” Steve nodded, pulling away slightly to look at her. “And you can sleep as long as you want.”

She sniffed. “Best say goodbye to everyone.” “Oh erm, yeah, you should know, erm, Jamie just told everyone about the baby. He didn’t mean it, but…” Katie let out a soft groan that almost turned into a chuckle as she pressed her forehead against Steve’s collar bone. “To be honest I’m surprised he kept it quiet for so long.” She mumbled and Steve chuckled. “It’s probably my fault” Steve said as she wrapped her arms round his waist. “I told him this morning when you were being sick that it was just the baby doing it so when he saw you run off before he just shouted to me that the baby had made you sick again.” “Well he’s not wrong.” She mumbled, pulling back. She looked up at her husband who smiled at her, his blue eyes soft. “Take me home, Soldier.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He smiled back, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

***** Later that night, the house was quiet. Bucky and Sam had headed off to some bar with Happy and Rhodey. Steve had turned the invite down, he wanted to be at home with his family. They lay in bed, Katie’s head resting on his chest, his hand gently carding through her hair.

“I’ve decided something.” Steve said, kissing Katie’s head.

“What?” She asked with a yawn.

“After the battle, I spoke to Fury. Told him I was quitting, that I didn’t want to be Captain America anymore, and he said that the world still needs Cap and I guess he’s right, it’s an important symbol to America and the world.” “So, you are gonna carry on?” Katie asked, moving so she could look up at him.

“No.” Steve shook his head firmly “I’m done. I’m gonna pass the shield down.”

“Not Bucky” Katie stated instantly and Steve frowned.

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s been fighting for so long.” Katie shrugged. “And you know he’d do anything for you. He’d take that shield if you asked, but that doesn’t mean that he wants it. I just, I dunno, I think he needs to find his own way for a while.” Steve contemplated what she was saying, she was right, of course. She always was. And, if he was honest, he’d gone through the same thought process himself. Other than Sam, Bucky didn’t really know the other Avengers (or what’s left of them) so how could he truly lead them? As Steve knew only too well, trust has to be earned, plus they all knew about his past, as did the public. Even if they were all willing to overlook and forgive it, he wasn’t sure Bucky himself was.

And, to be honest, Steve wasn’t sure his best friend ever would.

“Well that leaves one obvious candidate.” He stated, looking down at Katie. “Sam.”

Katie smiled “Sammy deserves it. He had non self-serving reason to let us in that time we showed up in DC, although he probably had a few second thoughts when a metal arm ripped through his car roof and tore out the steering wheel.” Steve gave a snort as she took a deep breath. “But he never left us. Even after Leipzig. He’s loyal to a fault, a good man and…” “He’s human. Not enhanced.” Steve finished, following her train of thought.

“Exactly. After everything that’s happened I think the American public could use a little ‘normality’, well as far as they can. People will relate to Sam. He’s a natural born leader.”

“And proof that anyone can be a hero.” Steve mused.

“So are you.” Katie looked up at him. “Remember, you’re just a kid from Brooklyn.” Steve smiled at her, and dropped a kiss to her lips before she settled down again. “There is one tiny problem…” 

“What?” “Your shield bit the dust, big time.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, although he already had a perfectly good plan forming in his mind about where he could get another.

“Mind you, sure T'Challa will be happy to provide enough Vibranium to make him a new one” Katie gave another yawn. “Bruce can sort it in the lab.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s hand began once more running through her hair. He hated lying to her, but he had absolutely no intention of correcting her, or telling her what he was actually planning to do.

He couldn’t, it would kill her. 

Steve lay there in his own thoughts, long after Katie had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her body warm against his. He had watched her today. So brave, so strong. She was stronger than he could ever be and it scared Steve just how lost he would be without her, which, as he realised at the Cathedral before, was a reality he was going to have to face at some point.

Seeing Pepper say her goodbyes to Tony had made him suddenly think about what Katie had been saying regarding him not growing old as fast as she did. And there, sat on that wooden bench besides her, surrounded by other mourners, he had realised in a fit of horror that one way or another that he would be in Pepper’s position someday. He would outlast Katie, the serum would see to that. The sudden understanding had hit him like a tonne of bricks, almost making him sick.

And now, after speaking to Bruce before about the next step, his mind was finally made up. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t lose her like that.

What he was going to do instead would kill him, but it was a small price to pay to stave off the heartache he would feel later in life. Captain America was going to take that final mission, to put the stones back where they came from.

And he wouldn’t be returning, for a very long time.

 **** Chapter 61

**Original Posting**

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.