#anyways waiting for the train n decompressing my thoughts

[soulmvtes]

just watched saltburn...

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Ok but can u also do this but with ron + the twins, I love ur smuts !!!!!!!

pairing: reader x ron weasley x fred weasley x george weasley 

warning(s): 18+, unprotected sex, foursome, double penetration, oral (female and male receiving), face fucking, fingering

word count: 4.2k 

a/n: soooo this is the longest thing i’ve ever written on this account but if anyone deserves it its the damn weasleys. i tried to make this as non sweet home alabama as possible and that’s probably why it’s so long. anyways, enjoy this ungodly amount of smut while i decompress. 

You had been spending a majority of your summer at The Burrow, where you boyfriend Ron lived. You spent day in and day out with him, practically on top of one another whenever you could be, but that didn’t stop you from spending time with his family. His mother was incredible, albeit a little scary at times, his father was charming, and Ginny was becoming a fast friend. But you couldn’t help the particular draw you felt towards the twins, Fred and George. 

You couldn't deny they were attractive, the genes were strong in the Weasley family. And you often did a poor job at hiding your attraction. 

You didn’t think any of them had noticed your subtle glances or blushes. Little did you know, all three of them had noticed over the few weeks you had been there. They were just waiting you out. 

~~~

Tonight you were all cozied around the fire pit, drinking some firewhiskey, taking advantage of the fact that Molly and Arthur had gone to visit Ron’s oldest brother Bill and his wife, Fluer, for the weekend. You weren’t drunk by any means, but you were certainly feeling good. 

You were cuddled up to Ron’s side, his arm slung around your shoulders, a knitted blanket draped over your laps. You were so wrapped up in your boyfriend that you had barely noticed that Fred had taken the spot on your other side until his leg brushed against yours, making you still. 

“Do you need another drink, sweetheart?” Fred asked when you finally looked his way, his face far too close to yours in the situation to be normal. 

You blushed at his proximity, but nodded. “Um, yes, thank you,” you added bashfully. 

Fred dashed a charming smile at you and placed a soft kiss to your cheek before dashing off to get you another glass of whiskey, your blush only intensifying when you felt his lips on your skin. You prayed no one could see it through the light of the fire. 

Ron tugged you back into his side and dropped his lips to your ear. “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop,” he said lowly, clearly not pleased by the situation. 

“He kissed me,” you argued softly, your head turning to press a kiss against his neck. He pulled back and shot a look down at you, his brow raised. A look you couldn’t exactly argue with. You got caught and you knew it. 

You stayed quiet, trying to keep your eyes anywhere except the two men that currently had your stomach in knots. But that effort was broken when Fred made his way back over to you, plopping down beside you. He passed you your new drink and you thanked him for it, sitting up straight to take a sip. 

You were caught off guard when you were pulled into his body and away from Ron, Fred’s strong arm now wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Have you been enjoying your summer here so far?” He asked quietly, making sure only you could hear him. 

Your eyes flitted cautiously over the group around the fire, making sure no one was noticing the strange behavior. You paused when you met George’s eyes, his own trained on the interaction between you and Fred, but you tried your best to ignore it. 

“Um, yes. You’ve all been quite lovely. I like it here,” you told him genuinely. You had been enjoying your summer despite tonights most recent turn of events. 

“Mm, good,” Fred mused, shooting another smile down at you. You couldn’t help but notice the little mischievous glint in his eyes that he got every time he was thinking something that was likely to either end brilliantly or disastourly. “I saw we play a little game. Are you in?” He asked. 

You swallowed nervously, knowing this could end very poorly. “And what is this game?” You questioned. 

“Let’s see how jealous we can get Ron,” he whispered, the smile never leaving his face. 

“I- I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you argued, knowing fully well Ron had already told you to stop… doing whatever you were doing. 

“Oh, c’mon Y/N. Live a little. Anyhow, you already know how this is going to end,” he told you. 

“And how will this end?” You asked, raising your eyebrow at him. 

He moved closer to you, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Your whole body was hot and the blush was creeping back onto your face and you knew he could see it. 

“Judging by the noises I hear coming from his room almost every night, he’ll fuck you stupid. And I get to hear those pretty noises again,” he told you shamelessly, pulling you into him closer. 

You shot a nervous glance at Ron, only to find that he was already looking at you over the rim of his own cup, fire in his eyes. He raised a brow at you and you could see the way the corners of his lips were tugging up into a smirk, practically daring you to continue on. As if he knew exactly what you and Fred were talking about. 

“By the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to mind,” Fred added from behind you, making you whip your head around back to him. 

“Of course he’d mind. You’re his brother,” you argued incredulously, still not believing this conversation was even truly happening. 

“You think he doesn’t see the way you look at me and Georgie? You look at us like you want us to devour you,” he told you. 

You snuck a glance at George only to find that he was still looking at you. You could feel Ron’s eyes still on the back of your head. You gulped nervously, your brain short circuiting for a half a second. Did they… did they plan this? 

“I - I haven’t been -,” you went to argue, but Fred cut you off. 

“Don’t play coy with me. Maybe if you beg him nicely like I hear you do so well, he might let us join you tonight,” Fred teased, causing your core to pulse and drip with arousal at the thought. 

You could only stare back at him, his breath fanning your face as you took in his words. He knew he planted a seed in you that wouldn’t go away until it was satisfied. The smug look on his face only proved it. You didn’t get the chance to reply before you could hear Ron getting up from his place on the bench. 

“Bunny, come with me,” he said innocently enough to the ears of everyone else in the group, but you could hear the edge in his voice. 

You detangled yourself from Fred and rose up from your spot, taking Ron’s hand as he silently led you back into the house. Once you had passed through the threshold into the kitchen and away from the eyes of everyone else, he spun around to face you. 

“And what was all that about?” He asked, stepping right into your space so you had no other choice but to look up at him. 

“N-nothing. We were just having a chat,” you stuttered out, trying to not seem intimidated. 

“Wasn’t what it looked like to me. Spill it,” he said roughly, continuing to back you up until your back hit the counter, leaving you nowhere to go when his hands were placed on either side of your body. 

“Promise you won’t get mad,” you half heartedly requested. 

“Just tell me.” 

“He- he said, um, he said that we should try to make you jealous,” you told him. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was only a half truth at best. 

“That’s not what has you blushing like a virgin though, is it? What did he say to you?” He pressed, the fire in his eyes growing larger by the second. 

You swallowed and took a deep breath before you even opened your mouth, knowing this could only go one of two ways. He’d either blow up entirely, or you’d have a night you’d never forget. “He said that if I begged you you’d let him and George join us,” you said quickly, all in one breath. 

You shut your eyes, waiting for his response. But when a chuckle fell from his lips your eyes shot back open in shock. 

“Is that what you want, bunny? Do you want them to join us?” He asked, his eyes now more playful than they had been just seconds prior. 

“Are you serious?” You asked after a moment, you head spinning that he was just offering this to you on a silver platter. You expected yelling, anger, the whole fit. You didn’t expect a cheeky smirk and twinkling eyes. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?”  

“They’re your brothers,” you argued. Why you were even arguing this, you weren’t sure. You wanted this and he knew it and they knew it. You just couldn’t understand why he was letting it happen. 

“It’s not like I’ll be fucking them,” he said with a laugh. “So, tell me what you want.” 

“If it’s okay with you…,” you started, trailing off. You looked up at him nervously, hoping your eyes conveyed enough of a plea that he would continue agreeing with you. 

“So beg,” he said, his voice dropping low as he continued to stare down at you. 

“I’ll be good, I promise. Just this once. I just - I - please,” you said, launching right into it but quickly running out of words as you watched the smirk grow on his face. 

“Go to my room. Strip. I’ll be up in a minute,” he told you, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading back outside. You watched his figure walk away for a moment, letting your mind race until you booked it up the stairs not wanting to wait any longer for the night to truly begin. 

~~~

You were waiting in your position on the bed for what felt like hours, but you knew it had only been a few minutes before you heard multiple sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. You moved to cover your chest when you heard the doorknob turn, unsure if you should be exposed or not right away. 

Ron came in first but left the door open just enough so your guests could hear. “Last chance, bun. Do you want this?” He asked, slowly coming over to rest his hands on the bed, leaning over slightly so his tall form was eye level with you. 

You knew it wasn’t your last chance to say no, but it was your last chance before the twins waltzed in. 

You took a shaky breath and nodded your head, saying “Yes,” loud enough so Fred and George could hear. 

The door was opening once more, the twins walking through, both pairs of eyes immediately on you. When the door shut, you stared up at them, unsure what to do or say, but their matching smirk told you they already had plans. 

Ron walked around the bed until he crawled on to it behind you, his legs bracketing your hips as you knelt between his spread thighs. 

“Let them see you,” he coaxed gently, hands coming around you to grip your forearms. 

He only put a light pressure on your skin, letting you move on your own as you exposed your chest to them. They took you in with hungry eyes but they didn’t move from where they both stood before you, waiting. 

“All of you,” Ron spoke again, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gently prying them apart. 

You leaned back and hid your face in his neck as he repositioned you, unable to look the two men in the eyes as your entire body got exposed to them. You knew you were a dripping mess over the situation and the embarrassment of it being so obvious made you squirm. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re more perfect than I imaged,” you heard George say, the bed dipping down infront of you. 

Your eyes snapped to him, watching him as he looked down at your glistening sex. His eyes were hungry when they met yours, desperate. Probably the exact mirror of your own. 

“Can I touch you?” George asked, his fingers twitching against the sheets, waiting. 

“Please,” you begged, wanting nothing more than for one of them to do anything right now. 

George wasted no time in bringing his fingers directly to your cunt, trailing one long finger through your slit while his thumb trailed soft circles onto your clit. You couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from your lips when he pushed his finger in, immediately searching for you g-spot. 

As if your noises were a cue for Fred, the bed dipped on your other side and without a word, he was kissing down your chest. Soon enough, he was attacking your nipples when George was working your from the inside out. Your back was arching and your hips were moving at their own volition, unable to stop yourself under their ministrations.

“Does that feel good?” George asked you softly, placing kisses on your shoulder. 

When you only nodded, Ron grabbed your chin and forced you to look directly at George. “I won’t remind you again, bunny. Use yours words,” he said sweetly, but you knew there was danger laced in his words. You knew better than anyone else what he could do to you if he reminded you one more time. 

“Yes. Feels so good. Please don’t stop,” you told George, already breathless from the three men surrounding you. 

You felt Fred chuckle against your skin and you knew the smirk George was wearing was only mimicked by Ron’s behind you. They knew exactly what they were doing to you. 

You couldn’t stop the whine that left you when George removed his hand, but your eyes lit up when you saw him go to kneel at the edge of the bed. He pulled up his to the edge, draped your legs over his shoulder, and started trailing kitten licks all along your slit until his tongue was swirling around your clit. 

You held fell back against Ron’s shoulder, a moan falling from your lips as Fred moved to your other side to attack your opposite nipple. 

“Having fun?” Ron asked, beaming down at you. 

You nodded breathlessly, your eyes rolling back in your head with a flushed smile on your face. “Want you too,” you told him. 

“Of course you do, my greedy girl,” Ron mused, his finger coming to tilt your lips back and locking your lips in a kiss. 

Your body was overwhelmed with just their lips. You weren’t sure how you would handle it when their pants came off. 

Your hips were grinding down onto George’s face without you sparing it a second thought and you kept pushing your chest into Fred’s lips, your entire body grinding back on Ron’s body. 

“She tastes like fucking heaven,” George said, finally coming up for a breath. His entire chin was soaked in his own saliva and your juices and his eyes were blown with lust. 

Ron made a noise of agreement that was swallowed up by your lips, but you were ripped away from your boyfriend by George’s grip on your neck. He pulled you into a kiss with him, tasting yourself on his tongue, as Fred trailed kisses down your body until he was getting a taste of you for himself. 

Fred quickly brought you your orgasm, his tongue so deep inside of you that your toes were curling. Your hands had a monster grip on Ron’s thighs and every noise you made got swallowed by George, his lips hot on yours. 

You finally relaxed your body against Ron’s, his chest being the perfect place to settle against, as your body calmed down. 

“Think you can handle all three of us?” Fred asked cheekily, looking up at you from his place on the floor. 

You gave a shaky nod, but in your head you were unsure how this would even work. You never thought you’t get this far to even have considered it. 

That line of thought was abruptly cut off when Ron grabbed your hair and yanked back so you were looking up at him again. “What did I say about using your words?” He asked darkly.

“Yes, I want to. I can,” you got out breathlessly, still basking in the sting of your scalp. 

“Good,” Ron said, now satiated with your words. “Get on your hands and knees for us, bunny.” 

He gave you one last searing kiss before releasing you, letting you adjust your own shaky limbs on the bed until you were in the position he instructed you to be in. As you did that, the boys began stripping themselves of their clothes, Fred and George both strategically in your line of sight depending on which way you turned your head. 

You watched as they both ripped their shirts over their heads, a sight you were accustomed to thanks to many sweaty afternoons in the yard playing Quidditch. But you didn’t know where to look as they peeled down their jeans and briefs, relieving both of their impressive lengths. They were both around the same length, but Ron was thicker than both of them. No matter what, you knew you’d be sore in the morning. 

“This is how it’s gonna work, bunny,” Ron said, finally rounding the bed so he could see you. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty little cunt,” he told you, adding emphasis of his possession when he bent over and easily hooked two fingers inside of you, pressing directly on your g-spot. You jumped at the abrupt action, but you never broke your eye contact with him.

“Fred’s going to fuck that tight ass,” he continued, and you watched as Fred rounded the bed until he was behind you. 

“And George is gonna fuck that cute face,” Ron finished, George coming up on the other side of you to grip your face to force you to look at him. 

“Does that sound good, sweetheart?” George asked, looking down at you fondly. 

“Yes, fuck. Please,” you said, your hips beginning to move against nothing now that Ron had removed his fingers, searching for any ounce of friction you can get. 

They moved in almost perfect sync. Ron maneuvered his way underneath you swiftly, George pulled your head off to the side so your mouth was lined up with the tip of his cock, and you could feel Fred’s lube covered fingers breach the entrance of your tightest hole all at once. You were overwhelmed in the best way, unsure what to do with yourself but totally just along for whatever ride they were about to bring you on. 

When Ron fucked up into you roughly, George immediately pushed your head down to feel the full effects of your moan of his cock, causing a shiver to run through his body. They were practically fucking your mouth and core in tandem, one pulling out while the other brutally thrust in. 

You felt as if you were splitting open for them already, but when Fred’s cock finally lined up with your entrance and began pushing in, you practically saw stars. 

George let you pull away from him for a moment so you could breath through the new pressure inside of you, your head now buried in Ron’s neck as you panted and moaned. Ron had slowed down his thrusts to match with Fred, balancing you on the precipice of pain and pleasure. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for us, Y/N. Just give it a minute and it’ll feel so good. You’re gonna be so pretty when you cum for us,” Ron mused quietly in your ear, knowing that you’d latch on to his voice to get you through the intensity. 

Finally, your hips starting moving against theirs, a silent signal you were ready for them to fuck you, all three of them truly went wild with you body. 

George dragged your face back over to him, letting you do your own thing but keeping a steady hand in your hair in case you tried to pull away. Ron and Fred were fucking into you in perfect sync, pulling out and fucking into you at the same time. 

It was so intense you were shaking, only being held up by three strong pairs of hands at this point. But you couldn’t hide how good it was making you feel. Even as deep as George’s cock was down your throat, it was barely muffling the screams of pleasure you were giving them. You just hoped someone remembered to cast a silencing charm. 

You could hear them talking around you, a mix of praises directed at you and words shared between themselves. “Fuck, you feel so good” and “Just like that” mixed with “She feels like fucking heaven” and “Her mouth is a dream”. You could barely hear them over the blood pumping through you, but you knew you’d remember it later with a blush and a smile. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Swallow it all for me,” George told you, bruising your hair out of your sweaty face. You felt the unmistakable twitch of his cock just before he spilled his cum inside of your mouth and fucked it down your throat, giving you no choice but to follow his request. He came with one of the prettiest noises you had ever heard, and you knew you’d want to hear it again someday if you were lucky enough. 

You pulled away from George panting, finally able to have a minute to catch your breath as Fred and Ron continued to pound furiously into you, your body jolting with every deliberate thrust. 

“Ron, please I’m so close,” you begged, for what you weren’t entirely sure, but you knew he’d know what to do. All you could focus on was how close you were, how tightly you were gripping both of your cocks, and trying your best to balance on shaky arms so you didn’t collapse. 

Without missing a beat, Ron turned his head to George. “Touch her clit,” he told him, finally sounding breathless from all the work he was putting in. 

Fred’s arms came around you to pull you up until your back was against his chest, giving George full access to your most sensitive spot. 

“Cum for us. Show us how much you loved this and cum for us,” Fred said low in your ear. 

Your eyes never left Ron’s as all three of them worked you closer and closer to the edge. As much as the twins were turning you on, this orgasm was for you boyfriend. Everyone you had was. He was the one that let this happen. Let them take you like this. And he was the one currently fucking your g-spot with every thrust it made your head spin. 

“Cum for me” was all Ron had to say, seeing and feeling just how close you were, for you to explode. 

Your vision went white and your whole body shook, the only thing keeping you grounded was Fred’s warm chest pressed against you. You knew the scream you were hearing was your own, but you couldn’t keep it quiet no matter how hard you tried. You pulsed around their cocks, milking them of their own orgasms as you were going through yours. You felt their cum fill you completely, another moan leaving your mouth at how erotic it felt. 

When you finally felt as though you had come back down to real life, you were settled against Ron’s chest, his cock still in you, while the twins were busying themselves with getting dressed. They were talking quietly while Ron ran his hand up and down along your back, just waiting until you were finally back in the present. 

George was the first one to notice your eyes had opened again when he finally got his pants back on. He walked over to the bed and knelt down so he was almost eye level with you. 

“That was wonderful, darling. You were perfect,” he told you, placing a quick kiss to your forehead before righting himself only for Fred to take his place. 

“What he said,” Fred told you with a smirk and mimicking his twin's kiss to your forehead. “We’ll see you two lovebirds in the morning,” he added with a wink. 

They both made their way out of the room, the door clicking behind them, leaving you and Ron in a blissed out silence. 

“Did you have fun?” He finally asked, tilting his neck so he was looking down at you. 

“I did. Thank you,” you said with a soft smile. 

“My girl always gets what she wants. You just have to ask, bunny,” He said, placing a kiss on your nose. 

When you moved your lips up to move against his, he stopped you with a chuckle. “No offense but my brother did just cum in your mouth. So let’s go get you cleaned up so I can kiss you properly, yeah?” He asked, wrapping a blanket around you so he could get you down the hallway and into the bathroom. 

“I thought you weren’t going to be weird about it,” you grumbled under your breath as he adjusted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. 

“That’s different and you know it,” he said defensively as he made his way for the door, making you giggle.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

idol!jaehyun x idol!reader secretly hooking up after an award show :0

Pairing: idol!jaehyun x idol!f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: here's more idol!jaehyun smut for y'all :) thanks for the request!

“I’ll meet you guys back at the dorm, I forgot something.”

Jaehyun left the members as they headed towards the cars, turning around and making his way back to the waiting rooms. Inside one, labeled with your group’s name, you were waiting for him, and the thought of that sent all the blood rushing to his cock. He adjusted casually, not wanting anyone he passed to see his raging boner. He made wide strides along the hallway, wanting to get to you as fast as he could.

When he reached the aforementioned room, he knocked lightly, with the code you’d both agreed on. You opened the door only wide enough to let him in, then shut it quickly behind him.

“Did anyone see you?” you asked, biting your lip nervously.

“No one suspected anything, I told them I forgot something,” he replied breathlessly, grabbing you and kissing you hard. “I couldn’t wait to see you, fuck that award show took forever.”

You smiled as you felt him hard against you. “Did you have this all night, then?” you asked teasingly, cupping his erection and making him hiss.

“It was so hard to hide it,” he grinned, before attacking your neck with soft kisses.

“No wonder you had that funny look on your face whenever I’d look over at you,” you couldn’t help teasing him, it was far too fun and he gave just as good as he got.

“Oh yeah? Well it’s your fault anyway, isn’t it?” he teased you back, but now his hands were rough on your body, unhooking clasps and unzipping everything to get your stage outfit off of you.

“Mm,” you moaned, the roughness of his movements making you wet, “maybe I can help you with it, then.”

Your head dropped back as he had you half naked, attacking your neck and chest with sloppy kisses. He sucked only hard enough to make you gasp, but not enough to leave marks you’d have to account for. He’d gotten as far as undoing your top so your breasts popped out, but fell short of getting your skirt off, so his hand just went up your thigh, pushing your panties aside so he could get his fingers inside you.

“Baby, I just want you so bad,” he groaned, “I want to eat you out, I want you to suck my dick, I want to do it all but fuck we don’t have the time right now,” he kissed between your breasts before he swiped his tongue against your perked nipple, making you squeal.

“Shh, baby, as much as I love to hear you we have to be quiet,” he whispered, pumping his fingers inside you as you tried your best not to cry out. “Just come for me, baby, that’s a good girl,” he encouraged, as he watched you fall apart at his touch. You bit your lip so hard trying not to scream you were surprised you hadn’t drawn blood.

“Jaehyun, fuck me now, please,” you begged, fumbling at his pants just as his phone buzzed.

“Goddammit it’s my manager,” he moaned, checking the phone quickly before throwing it onto the couch, “he’s asking me how much longer I’ll be.”

He hadn’t bothered responding to his manager’s text, and you couldn’t be bothered getting him to, because his tongue was down your throat and his cock was out of his pants, your hand wrapped around it. He picked you up suddenly, perching you on the counter and positioning his cock at your entrance.

“Remember, you have to be quiet,” he put a finger up to his lips, his eyes trained on yours and you nodded, just as he slid inside you. Your entire body tingled at the feeling of it, and you fought every urge to moan as he slid deeper inside of you. You started to pant, your breath coming in short gasps as he started to thrust into you.

“Good girl,” he cooed, watching you with hooded eyes as you tried your best to keep quiet, lips pressed together, “you’re so good for me, such a good little pussy, so tight.”

His words were pushing you over the edge, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around him, pulling him even closer to you.

“Jaehyun, I’m gonna come,” you whispered, and he suddenly put his mouth on yours, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet when you came. He swallowed your cries as you shuddered against him, your fingernails digging into his back as your pussy clenched hard around him. He managed a few more thrusts before he groaned into your mouth, his hands on your ass squeezing as he spilled inside you.

There was a knock on the door, making both of you jump, Jaehyun holding you tightly to him.

“Y/N, it’s time to go.”

It was your manager, you had told him you wanted to stay back for a bit to decompress, but now it seemed he wanted to leave.

“I’ll be right out,” you called, fighting to make your voice sound level. He didn’t respond and you blew out a breath in relief, resting your forehead on Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“That was close,” he chuckled, as he stroked your back lightly with the pads of his fingers. You sighed at his touch, loving the way he caressed you so softly.

“Mm,” you agreed, “we need to figure out how to do this more often.”

Jaehyun nodded, then kissed you softly on the top of your head. “I agree, but I’ll take anything I can get right now.” He leaned in to kiss you just as his phone buzzed again.

“You’d better get that,” you laughed, pushing him away from you lightly, and starting to make yourself more presentable again, while Jaehyun reluctantly typed a message back to his manager.

---

Thanks for 1.4k :)

[REQUESTS CLOSED]

[bevioletskies]

love will never do (without you)

summary: Despite his increasingly frequent social visits to Baker Street, none of its inhabitants have been able to convince Kazuma to stay for dinner. Ryunosuke is determined to finally change his mind.

word count: 6.7k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day three of seven (prompt: "family"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Haori, Sherlock, and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Love Will Never Do (Without You) by Janet Jackson.

“Are you sure you won’t stay, Kazuma? I promise Iris won’t be making roast chicken this time.”

Kazuma chuckled, drawing his coat a little tighter around his midsection as he buttoned himself up, though to Ryunosuke, it mostly seemed as if he were trying to avoid Ryunosuke’s pleading gaze. “I’m happy to hear that, but I’m afraid I can’t. Lord van Zieks and I are getting on a train first thing in the morning to attend that conference I told you about, remember?”

“You seem to spend more time with him than with us,” Ryunosuke said, frowning somewhat. “Though if it’s work-related, I suppose it can’t be helped. Next time, then?”

“No promises,” Kazuma said, offering him a regretful smile. “Enjoy your not-roast chicken dinner without me, won’t you? I’ll come by for tea sometime next week, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Ryunosuke nodded. “Have a safe trip, Kazuma.”

“Have a good evening, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied, bowing his head slightly before disappearing into the carriage that awaited him. Sighing, Ryunosuke lingered on the sidewalk for a moment, watching him go, then turned and headed back inside, back to where the others were waiting for him with hungry bellies and questioning gazes. When they noticed Ryunosuke had returned to the table alone, their curiosity was quickly replaced with disappointment.

“It wasn’t meant to be, it seems,” Sherlock commented blithely. “What a shame; I’d been hoping to continue our conversation on Japanese martial arts. I would’ve loved to hear his opinion on my boxing technique.”

“Oh, I wish he’d stayed,” Iris sighed, slumping in her seat. “I even made all of his favorites! Surely, that should’ve been enough.”

“Unfortunately, Kazuma-sama is a very busy man,” Susato said, patting Iris’s hand in sympathy. “Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it at the moment. I’m sure he’ll stay for dinner someday, just not today. Shall we eat?”

As much as Ryunosuke loved Iris’s cooking, this time, it was hard for him to enjoy even a single bite. Over the last several weeks, Kazuma had inexplicably been coming by Baker Street more and more often despite having spent the last several months politely but firmly rejecting Ryunosuke and Susato’s invitations. Usually, he only stopped by if someone was sick and he wanted to pass on his well wishes, or if they’d had a particularly difficult case together and he wanted to decompress. Both of them had resigned themselves to Kazuma’s apparent desire to keep them at arm’s length, only to be surprised when he showed up one day for afternoon tea. It had become something of a regular appointment ever since. Still, none of them had been able to convince him to stay long enough for dinner.

“Naruhodo-san?”

Ryunosuke startled; he barely remembered finishing dinner and returning to his desk in the attic, only to shuffle mindlessly through his paperwork without reading any of it. “Ah - sorry, Susato-san, were you saying something just now?”

“No, I’ve only just come back up,” Susato replied, looking at him curiously. “You seem...distracted. Is it because of Kazuma-sama?”

“I just...don’t understand what’s going on with him,” Ryunosuke admitted, rubbing his aching temples. “I can’t help but worry he’s caught up in something again. He spent months keeping his distance, and now, he comes round twice a week, only to leave after an hour or two of conversation. It’s...it’s strange, is what it is.” He then sat up, his eyes wide. “Do you think he’s spying on us for someone?”

Susato tilted her head, looking at him worryingly. “...oh dear, I hope not. And I don’t think all of Kazuma-sama’s secrets are wrapped up in conspiracy, Naruhodo-san. As I said, he’s a busy man, so we should be grateful that we get to see him as often as we do. And I’m glad that he’s been so happy and healthy these days.”

“Yes, of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. Kazuma was definitely smiling more, talking more, laughing more, and that was never a bad thing. It didn’t stop him from worrying, though. “I hope he’ll stay for dinner eventually, especially for Iris’s sake. She went to all that trouble tonight, after all.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to guilt him into it,” Susato said with a mischievous giggle. “If Iris were to cry and bat her eyelashes at him, he’s sure to come around!”

“...I’d like to try less underhanded tactics first, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke replied, sighing.

_____

Of course, that wasn’t to say Ryunosuke had any tactics in mind to begin with, short of cornering Kazuma and asking him outright. Every single time, without fail, Kazuma had somewhere to be or someone to see, even when he knew he was coming to Baker Street well in advance. Every single time, Ryunosuke went to see him off while asking him to stay, and every single time, Kazuma seemed to be avoiding his eyes while telling him he had to leave. Then, days later, the same thing would happen all over again.

They’d tried a few different things in the beginning, naturally. Sherlock had offered to spar with Kazuma, and when that hadn’t worked, offered to discuss literature and politics with him instead. Iris had bribed him with tea, then sweets, then science; unsurprisingly, Kazuma only had a polite interest in hearing about Iris’s smoke bombs. Ryunosuke and Susato tried to persuade him with the promise of stories from their brief return to Japan, what with Ryunosuke finishing his formal law education and Susato taking a few turns in the Supreme Court as the elusive Ryutaro. Frustratingly, even that failed to work, and everyone was at a loss as to why.

“Your head appears to be in the clouds today, Ryunosuke. What’s on your mind?”

“I - oh!” Ryunosuke coughed, blushing. “Sorry, Kazuma, I seem to be drifting off quite a bit these days. What did you say?”

Chuckling, Kazuma moved in closer, the side of his hip pressing into Ryunosuke’s. He lifted a hand to affectionately rap his knuckles against Ryunosuke’s forehead. “I said you seem distracted. Is something bothering you?”

Ryunosuke cast a worried glance around the courthouse library, hoping no one could see the strangely intimate stance they were suddenly in, then turned back to meet Kazuma’s intense, albeit slightly concerned gaze; he swallowed. “Are you free this evening, for dinner?”

Kazuma’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Dinner?”

“At Baker Street, with the others,” Ryunosuke clarified. “I think Iris is making beef stew and freshly baked bread, so…”

“Ah.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking a few measured steps back before turning back to the bookshelf he’d been perusing. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.” When Ryunosuke motioned for him to continue, he frowned. “What?”

“I was waiting to hear what excuse you had to offer this time,” Ryunosuke replied, his tone harsher than he’d intended; Kazuma looked just as taken aback as Ryunosuke felt.

“Excuse? You think I’ve been making excuses?” Kauma said coldly, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you thought so little of me, Ryunosuke. Do you really believe that I’m making things up just to get out of joining you for dinner?”

“I’m not sure what to believe,” Ryunosuke said, more resignedly now. “You’ve been coming over so often these days, but you never stay longer than a couple of hours, and never for dinner. I can only assume that you’ve been told to visit us but not to stay too long, or...or, I don’t know, that you think Iris will poison your food or something.”

Kazuma scoffed, looking away so he could yank a volume off the shelf rather violently. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ryunosuke. It’s convoluted thoughts like that that keep us in court longer than we need to be.”

Ryunosuke flinched, hurt. “There’s no need to be so short with me. All I wanted to know is why my best friend has been so distant, but...if you continue to act like this, I’m not sure I care to find out.”

Now it was Kazuma’s turn to appear wounded; he let out a lengthy sigh. “I...I’m sorry, that was unnecessary of me. And…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re right, I have nowhere to be. But I won’t be coming all the same.”

“But why?” Ryunosuke whisper-shouted, frustrated, mindful of the other library patrons who were watching them curiously from a few shelves away. “I understand not wanting to accept every single invitation, and I understand that you’re busy, but you haven’t even stayed once, so...I can only assume that something must be wrong.”

Kazuma visibly swallowed, tucking his books underneath one arm, folding the other defensively across his stomach. “Have a good day, Ryunosuke.” And with that, he swept past Ryunosuke rather hurriedly, disappearing out of sight before Ryunosuke could even fathom what had happened. Groaning, he slumped against the shelf he’d been standing beside; his head was starting to hurt again. He barely even looked up at the sound of Susato’s footsteps.

“I’m afraid they didn’t have the records we were looking for, Naru - Naruhodo-san? Are you alright?” She placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I thought you were with Kazuma-sama.”

“I was, but...I really don’t know what’s happening, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke sighed. “I asked him if he’d be able to join us for dinner, and this time, he didn’t even give me an excuse. Simply told me he had nowhere to be, but he wouldn’t be coming, anyway. I mean, what are we supposed to think at this point?”

Susato’s face fell. “Oh. I...I see.”

“Is it…” Ryunosuke hesitated. “Is it strange to miss someone, even when they’re standing right in front of you?”

“I don’t think so,” Susato murmured, offering him a sad smile. “Because I feel it, too.”

Dinner was a somber affair; the moment Ryunosuke and Susato arrived home, Sherlock and Iris could instantly tell that something was wrong. They seemed resigned, too, especially given that Kazuma hadn’t bothered interacting with them much prior to Ryunosuke and Susato’s return to London. Even Sherlock confessed he wasn’t sure where to begin when it came to deducing Kazuma’s reasons, or worse, his potential ulterior motive.

“And I was so looking forward to having another big brother around,” Iris said, chewing rather despondently on her piece of freshly baked bread. “Do you think he might be mad at us for some reason? I can’t think of anything we’ve done to offend him, but…”

“If he were upset, I don’t think he’d be visiting us at all,” Susato reassured her, though she didn’t sound very sure herself.

Finally, things seemed to come to a head one drizzly morning when Ryunosuke managed to acquit his client rather quickly, ending the trial sooner than expected. As he and Susato finished packing their things so they could join their client in the defendants’ antechamber, Kazuma approached them with a broad smile.

“Well done, Ryunosuke. That last deduction of yours was ingenious,” he said, extending a hand. “I was thinking, instead of visiting Baker Street, we could go all go out for tea sometime and - ”

“No.” Ryunosuke had said it so quickly, so immediately, that all three of them looked surprised; Susato only just managed to stop herself from gasping out loud. “No, I - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Naruhodo-san,” Susato whispered, aghast.

Kazuma’s hand dropped unceremoniously to his side. His mouth was set in a hard line, his jaw taut. “Ryunosuke…”

“I really don’t know what’s going on with you, Kazuma, and...and maybe I’m simply overthinking it, but…” Ryunosuke shook his head, fists clenched. “It just feels as if you don’t care about us anymore. That you only come round for tea to keep up appearances, and not because you actually want to spend time with us. It even seems as if...as if you can’t wait to get away when the time comes.”

“That’s not true, I - ” Kazuma’s lip curled, but even he couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. “I want to, but I...I can’t.”

“Are you in trouble, Kazuma-sama?” Susato said urgently, stepping forward. “If there’s something we can do to help, anything at all…”

Kazuma turned abruptly, his head bowed, shoulders trembling. For a moment, Ryunosuke wondered, panicked, if he was about to cry. Yet, when he turned back to look at them, his eyes were sharp, determined. “...fine. Let’s have dinner, then. Is tonight too soon?”

Ryunosuke and Susato exchanged confused glances. “I’m...sure Iris would be happy to cook for you,” Susato said slowly, uncertainly. “Do you really mean it, Kazuma-sama? You’ll be having dinner with us tonight, just like that?”

“Just like that. I’ll be there, I swear,” Kazuma promised. As much as Ryunosuke didn’t want to believe him, something about the look on Kazuma’s face told him that he could trust him, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Swallowing thickly, Ryunosuke held out his hand. Kazuma instantly accepted, giving it a firm shake. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Ryunosuke echoed numbly.

_____

Hours later, Ryunosuke still felt uncertain as he was getting dressed for dinner. He’d believed Kazuma at the time, but now, he expected to see nothing but yet another empty place setting at the table. And, of course, Ryunosuke couldn’t forget the haunted look in Kazuma’s eyes when he’d accused him of not caring about them - did I go too far? Ryunosuke wondered, chewing his bottom lip worriedly. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, I shouldn’t have pushed it -

“Naruhodo-san!” He startled at the sound of Susato’s voice, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “Naruhodo-san, Kazuma-sama is here!”

“Wait, really?” Ryunosuke stepped out of his bedroom and promptly almost fell over - again - at the sight of Kazuma, standing at the bottom of the attic stairs, wearing a casual outfit and a radiant smile that actually seemed to reach his eyes. For a moment, Ryunosuke felt his heart stop. “Kazuma, you - you really are here!”

“And I’ve brought a gift for everyone,” Kazuma added, motioning towards the box tucked underneath his arm. He looked cheerful, amicable, nothing like the cornered, wounded animal he’d appeared to be just hours ago. “Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid, but I hope it will please everyone all the same.”

“I’m sure it will,” Susato said, beaming. “Shall we head to Mr Holmes’s suite, then?”

“We shall,” Kazuma agreed, holding out his hand for her to take. When she accepted with a giggle and an exaggerated bow, Kazuma then turned to extend his other hand to Ryunosuke with a wink for good measure. “Ready?”

“I…” Ryunosuke’s cheeks warmed; he quickly made his way down the stairs and pushed past them, nearly knocking his shoulder into Kazuma’s. “I-I should see if Iris needs help setting the table.”

By the time everyone was seated, Ryunosuke’s stomach was tossing and turning like nothing else. It wasn’t unusual, he supposed, for Kazuma to act like this; he remembered getting a little too drunk with him in their university days, only to find Kazuma’s face a little too close to his, looking him up and down in a way that made Ryunosuke wonder. It had only ever been wondering, though, with nothing ever coming to fruition. Now, despite his current frustration with Kazuma’s erratic behavior, Ryunosuke still thought about it every now and then, about his meaningful glances and his sly, almost suggestive remarks.

“So how’ve you been, Kazzy?” Iris chirruped brightly. “The last time you were here, you were telling us about some of the work you were doing with Susie’s daddy.”

“Yes, Professor Mikotoba invited me to spend some time with him in his new laboratory so I can familiarize myself with the latest in forensics,” Kazuma replied, smiling gratefully when she handed him a generously-filled bowl of soup. “I’m assuming he’s done the same for you, Mr Holmes?”

“Indubitably,” Sherlock said, nodding. “It’s also given me the opportunity to see the wonderful Miss Haori at work as well.” He then turned in his seat, beaming in Susato’s direction. “Of course, I already knew she was perfectly lovely, Miss Susato, but now I’ve seen first-hand just how whip-smart and delightfully curious she is. I can see why you’re so taken with her.”

“O-oh,” Susato managed to say, blushing. “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear you say that, Mr Holmes.”

“Already knew?” Kazuma echoed, looking at Sherlock curiously. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with her.”

“Oh, Haori stops by for tea and a chat all the time!” Iris said, beaming. “She’s always curious about the different concoctions and inventions Holmesie and I have been working on, you see. She even brings some incredible ideas of her own!...none that have worked out, mind you, but I’m sure that someday, we’ll create the perfect invention together.”

“I...I see.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking his first spoonful of soup.

Sherlock and Iris exchanged dubious looks across the table; Ryunosuke could only hope that Kazuma wouldn’t notice. “Well, what else have you been up to?” Iris asked as she began to eat as well. “Surely you’re not spending all your time working, Kazzy. Do you have any hobbies? Ooh, or a secret lover, perhaps?”

“Iris,” Sherlock said, frowning somewhat, but she didn’t seem to be deterred at all.

“Susie and Haori are so sweet together,” Iris continued, idly stirring her soup with a dreamy sigh. “And we’ve even had a few of Holmesie’s clients take interest in Ryu, can you believe it? Just the other day, there was this young woman who stopped in, worried about her brother’s dubious business dealings. Ryu happened to be home, so he offered to keep her company while she waited for Holmesie to return. She was so charmed, I think there were literal stars in her eyes - ”

“Iris,” Sherlock repeated, firmer this time. Ryunosuke wasn’t sure his face could get any hotter; he didn’t dare look up to see how Kazuma had reacted. “Now might not be the time for that sort of talk. After all, Mr Naruhodo made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her.”

“He did?” Kazuma’s voice was strangely affected, almost hollow.

“I think I remember her,” Susato said with a rueful smile. “She was quite forward, asking Mr Naruhodo if he’d like to have dinner sometime. Once he understood what she meant, he told her he was flattered, but that he already had someone.”

“A gentleman’s rejection, if I do say so myself,” Sherlock added unhelpfully. “Seeing as Mr Naruhodo has precisely no one.”

“...a kind reminder, Mr Holmes,” Ryunosuke said, sighing. It was only then that he noticed the severe pull of Kazuma’s mouth, almost as if he were clenching his teeth to stop himself from speaking. “Anyway, er, Kazuma, didn’t you want to tell Mr Holmes and Iris about that odd contraption you saw when you accompanied Lord van Zieks to that crime scene in the countryside?”

Kazuma’s expression quickly shifted into a friendlier one, though he still seemed more guarded than ever. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. I wish I’d had a camera on me, it was the strangest thing…”

An hour or so later, after their somewhat awkward dinner had ended, Sherlock elected to put on a record rather than provide the musical entertainment himself, a lilting sort of waltz that had everyone swaying in their seats while they sipped their tea and continued to chat. Susato was in the middle of recounting the plot of the latest novel she’d been reading when Sherlock suddenly pulled Iris to her feet, humming along all the while.

“Quickly, Iris! Here, stand on my feet,” he instructed, grinning brightly.

“Are you sure?” Iris asked doubtfully. “Won’t that hurt?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Sherlock insisted. “You mustn't dawdle, either, for the best part is about to begin!”

Ryunosuke and Susato couldn’t help but burst into raucous laughter, watching Sherlock clumsily guide Iris around the room as the music began to pick up in speed, the heels of Iris’s shoes constantly slipping from the toes of Sherlock’s, her fingers clutching at the back of Sherlock’s waistcoat as she held on for dear life.

“I already know how to dance, Holmesie!” Iris exclaimed through her own fit of giggles. “You hardly need to teach me.”

“Ah, but isn’t it so much more enjoyable this way?” Sherlock beamed. “Naturally, this doesn’t work with everyone - imagine me doing this with Mikotoba, for instance - ”

“And you know perfectly well that Father already knows how to dance,” Susato interjected, still laughing.

“ - but you, Iris, are the perfect size!” Sherlock declared, scooping her into his arms. Iris squealed at the sensation of suddenly being lifted up in the air, giggling hysterically as he spun her around. Ryunosuke and Susato continued to clap and cheer them on, applauding happily as the song came to an end. Sherlock finally set Iris back down onto her own two feet, looking understandably winded. He let out a quiet groan, bringing one hand to cup the small of his back. “We’ll have to do that again sometime, my dear girl. Not immediately, you understand.”

“Oh, perfectly,” Iris replied, glowing. She then collapsed onto the settee, situating herself right between Ryunosuke and Susato, her head dropping to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “And we must invite Ginny round for it, too. I bet she’d love to join in!”

“And now I simply must see you and Father dance together as well, Mr Holmes,” Susato added, chuckling. “I’m sure the two of you would look positively enchanting!”

Ryunosuke then turned to look in the direction of the armchair. “What about you, Kaz - Kazuma?” But Kazuma wasn’t there; the only indication that he’d been sitting there at all was the saucer on the table beside it. Frowning, Ryunosuke shot to his feet and headed straight to the entryway, ignoring Susato’s startled cry. “Kazuma, are you seriously going to - ” But Kazuma’s boots were still neatly lined up beside his own, his coat still hanging from the coat rack, leaving Ryunosuke to turn and head straight into the kitchen. There, he found Kazuma hunched over the sink, hands gripping the counter a little too tightly. “...Kazuma, are you alright?”

“...I just needed some air, sorry.” Kazuma made a point of not turning around. “My head, it...it still hurts sometimes, and the music was a little too loud. But please, don’t let me spoil your fun.”

“It’s hardly fun when you’re not around,” Ryunosuke said, sidling up beside him. Up close, he could see sweat beginning to form on Kazuma’s brow, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. “I’m sorry to hear about your head, though; shall I ask Mr Holmes to turn the music off? Do you need water, or - or maybe you should lie down.”

“No, it’s...I’m fine.” Kazuma straightened up, smoothing out the front of his shirt and letting out a labored breath that seemed to rattle from within his chest, though he still refused to look in Ryunosuke’s direction. “I must say, it seems I’ve been learning quite a lot tonight, more than I ever expected to.”

Ryunosuke frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I knew of Professor Mikotoba’s frequent visits to Baker Street, of course, but I didn’t realize Haori-san and Inspector Lestrade came by so often,” Kazuma remarked with a dry laugh. “And to hear that some of Mr Holmes’s clients had a keen romantic interest in you...who would’ve guessed?”

“Hey,” Ryunosuke protested softly, chuckling. “I’ve been told I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing a doting parent would say,” Kazuma teased, finally lifting his head to look at Ryunosuke with a warm, inviting smile. What exactly he was inviting him to do, Ryunosuke couldn’t be sure. “Hardly the words of a potential lover.”

“Well, uh…” Ryunosuke’s gaze softened; he moved closer. “...what would a potential lover say?”

“Passionate, perhaps,” Kazuma mused, taking another sharp inhale, though his breathing didn’t sound quite so painful anymore. “Clever, kind-hearted, loyal…” He then smirked. “Gullible, a little cowardly, overly agreeable - ”

“My apologies for being too agreeable - what a terrible character flaw I’ve got there,” Ryunosuke shot back, elbowing him. Kazuma’s sweet, raspy laughter finally rang out for the first time that evening, like music to Ryunosuke’s ears. Still, a sobering thought quickly cut through the sound. “Speaking of agreeable...Kazuma, why did you finally agree to come to dinner tonight, of all nights?”

Kazuma went quiet again. “...I’d like to hear your thoughts first, actually.”

“I…” Ryunosuke swallowed, silently wishing he hadn’t said anything. Now all he wanted to do was go back to mere seconds before, just so he could hear Kazuma laugh again. “I don’t want to think the worst of you, Kazuma, I really don’t. But I can’t help but feel you only accepted our invitation to prove a point. To prove us wrong.”

Kazuma shook his head, smiling bitterly. “I had a feeling you’d think that. It sounds like something I’d do, doesn’t it? But no, that’s not quite it. It’s more like you...like you helped me see reason, in that I finally saw how I was being entirely unreasonable.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Ryunosuke admitted. “If anything, I felt like I was being unreasonable by accusing you of not caring about us. Without evidence, no less!”

“This isn’t the courtroom, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied with a faint laugh. “But if you’d like, I can testify. I’ll even be generous and let you cross-examine me.” Ryunosuke wordlessly motioned for him to continue, unamused. “Yes, er...I really do apologize for making you and Susato-san worry about me, for making you doubt my friendship. I swear, I’m not in any sort of trouble. I’ve simply been...evasive of my own accord, not to mention selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke insisted, frowning. “Self-important at times, yes. But we know you mean well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Kazuma said hoarsely, slowly lowering himself down onto the kitchen floor with a lofty sigh. “I’ve been terribly selfish, in fact.”

Ryunosuke went to sit beside him, concerned. “How so?”

Kazuma seemed to be staring straight ahead at nothing, evidently lost in thought. When he finally spoke again, he sounded angry, Ryunosuke suspected, at himself. “I was ecstatic when I heard you and Susato-san were coming back to Great Britain,” he began. “I’d spent what felt like a lifetime here alone, talking to almost no one, trusting almost no one. So, I…I started imagining all the things we’d get to do, the memories we’d get to share.”

“Of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. “That’s all we’d been dreaming about since we departed from Japan, too.”

“So…when you returned, I just assumed it would be like old times,” Kazuma continued, smiling ruefully. “Instead, it seemed as if the two of you had made friends with all of London. Between dinners, parties, society events...I never knew you were such a social creature, Ryunosuke. And of course, you have something of a family now, here at Baker Street.”

“Yes, I do. Iris thinks of Susato-san and I as her older siblings,” Ryunosuke replied, nodding. “But...Kazuma, I still don’t understand. No doubt we’ve been busy, yes, but we’ve made plenty of time for you as well. Have you been feeling ignored?”

Kazuma ducked his head. “No, nothing like - you know what? This isn’t...I’m not seeking out your pity, alright? I’m not asking for you to feel sorry for me. I should have never brought it up, so why don’t you rejoin the others before they - ”

“No, I want to hear this,” Ryunosuke insisted, clasping his hand over Kazuma’s knee. Kazuma shuddered, but he didn’t move away. “I want to hear what you have to say. It’s obviously been bothering you for ages, so - please, tell me. Tell me everything.”

“...I wasn’t feeling ignored, exactly.” Kazuma lifted his gaze once more, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “It was more like...I felt as if there was no longer enough room in your life for me. And that you were the one keeping up appearances, being the kind of friend that you are, but...I started to believe you saw me as someone from your past, not someone you wanted in your future. Especially after...well, everything that transpired.”

“I made you feel as if I didn’t care about you?” Ryunosuke asked, his voice small.

“That’s where the selfishness comes in, actually,” Kazuma muttered. “I was too caught up in what I wanted, what I felt like I deserved, that I made everything carry more weight than it actually did. That I made your happiness about me. But…” His smile then softened, bittersweet. “...people have always been inexplicably drawn to you, Ryunosuke. When I first saw you on that stage, giving your speech, I assumed you didn’t have the presence to do it - ”

“...thanks,” Ryunosuke grumbled.

“ - but then I truly saw just how magnetic you really were,” Kazuma continued with a fond chuckle. “So, to bring this back to here and now, I...I wanted to keep seeing you, spending time with you - and with Susato-san, of course - but I didn’t want to stay around long enough to remind myself of how I no longer play a significant role in your life.” He let out a choked sob, dropping his head into his hands. “God, it sounds even more selfish when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, Ryunosuke. Once again, I...I let my feelings cloud my judgment. A terrible habit of mine that seems impossible to break.”

“Kazuma,” Ryunosuke breathed, stunned. “I...I had no idea.” He then moved even closer, reaching over to gently brush Kazuma’s hair out of his eyes. “Kazuma...look at me, please.”

But Kazuma merely got to his feet, knocking Ryunosuke’s hand away from his face. “I really should go before I spoil your night any more than I already have,” he said sharply, suddenly. “Please, give the others my regards.”

“You are not leaving before we finish this conversation,” Ryunosuke insisted, grabbing Kazuma by the wrist before he could disappear into the night. “Not this time.” Kazuma yanked his arm out of Ryunosuke’s grasp, his posture stiff and unyielding, but he didn’t seem poised to run off otherwise. “Kazuma, I - I’m so sorry that I ever made you doubt how much you mean to me. Believe me, I would not be the person I am today without you.”

“Ryunosuke, I really don’t want to make this about me - ”

“You’re my family, too, Kazuma.” Kazuma’s eyes widened. “And I want you here, always. We all do.”

Kazuma slowly turned on his heel, his hands dropping to his sides, the fight seemingly leaving his body all at once. “Ryu…”

“Yes, I - I won’t deny the importance of the friends I’ve made in London,” Ryunosuke continued, his voice trembling as he spoke. “And of course, I’ve got friends in Japan, old and new. But...surely you know that you’ve always meant the world to me, that you’ve always been more than just a friend, a-and you always will be. No matter who, what, or where we are, that will never change.”

Time seemed to stop for a moment, a moment that stretched out into what felt like minutes, hours, even, as Ryunosuke and Kazuma just stood there, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make a move. Then, Kazuma stepped forward, sweeping Ryunosuke in for a hug.

“You might not be the most articulate speaker in the world, but you’ve always had a way with words,” he murmured, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s shoulder. This time, he sounded halfway between a euphoric laugh and a relieved sob. “Thank you, Ryunosuke. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Then perhaps I should say it more often,” Ryunosuke teased, bringing Kazuma in even closer, his fingers curled into Kazuma’s shirt, refusing to let him go. He was warm, solid, comforting in a way that Ryunosuke had never quite realized until now. “For both our sakes.”

“I’d like that,” Kazuma mumbled; for a split second, it felt as if he’d pressed a kiss to Ryunosuke’s cheek, but he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “Anyway, we really should go and rejoin the others. It’s a wonder Susato-san hasn’t burst in here already, demanding answers.”

“I suspect she knows more than she let on...as she does,” Ryunosuke added, reluctantly pulling away. “Oh, and I’ve just remembered - would now be a good time to open that gift you brought?”

“Is that what you’re really after?” Kazuma asked, smirking. “But yes, I think so. Once I’ve apologized to the others for my coldness, that is.”

Mere minutes later, Kazuma found himself tackled to the ground by Susato and Iris, who were both crying tears of joy, clinging on to Kazuma like their lives depended on it. Ryunosuke and Sherlock stood back, watching on with bemused smiles as Susato then proceeded to scold him for being so distant, while Iris bounced up and down on her heels, begging him to sleep over so she’d have more time to read him her latest manuscript.

“Ryu always says you have a flair for the dramatic, after all,” Iris said, grinning cheekily. “So I’d like your opinion on whether this one particular passage gets your heart racing!”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay the night,” Kazuma said apologetically, taking a seat on the settee this time; his eyes widened slightly in surprise when Iris plopped right down beside him. “I’ve got an early morning meeting, unfortunately. If I were to sleep over, I think any Friday would be a safe bet.”

“This Friday, then?” Iris suggested. “You could set up in Ryu’s bedroom! I’m sure he’d like that.”

Kazuma raised an eyebrow in Ryunosuke’s direction. “...would he, now?”

“Hey, I - d-don’t - Iris!” Ryunosuke spluttered, his cheeks reddening. “Kazuma, your gift? Now?”

“So demanding,” Kazuma replied, clicking his tongue in disapproval. Still, he went to retrieve the box he’d left in the entryway, then knelt on the floor by the fireplace so he could open it. Iris immediately went to peek, while Sherlock only just managed to hold himself back, mostly because Susato had grabbed him by the arm before he could snatch the box out of Kazuma’s arms. Ryunosuke, on the other hand, went to kneel beside Kazuma, his heart racing with sudden anticipation. “Admittedly, I don’t really have an eye for art, but I was working on a crime scene diorama a month or two ago when I was struck by the idea. So…”

Small gasps filled the room as Kazuma carefully lifted out a mid-sized shadow box frame filled with the most beautiful papercraft any of them had ever seen, depicting 221B Baker Street and its occupants in a domestic scene - Sherlock playing his beloved Stradivarius, Iris pouring a cup of tea, Susato reading in the armchair, and Ryunosuke eating sweets by the fireplace, Wagahai nestled in his lap.

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato whispered, speechless, her eyes shining with tears.

“No eye for art, you say? My dear fellow, this is absolutely beautiful!” Sherlock declared, beaming.

“Oh, I’m not the one who made it,” Kazuma said, shaking his head. “No, I used my connections to find and commission one of the best artisans in the country, and this was the result. I thought it would make for a nice piece for you to hang somewhere - anywhere, really. Do you...do you like it?”

Ryunosuke made a quiet, incoherent noise, having clapped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying, too. “Kazuma, it’s...it’s incredible! I only wish we’d spoken earlier so you would’ve thought to include yourself, too.”

Kazuma’s gaze softened; he looked pleased, yet embarrassed. “Yes, well...I don’t live here, so it wouldn’t have been appropriate, anyway.”

“Well, then maybe you should!” Iris piped up. “After all, you’re Susie’s brother and Ryu’s partner, not to mention my newest big brother. Why wouldn’t you live here?” Kazuma opened his mouth, then closed it again, suddenly also at a loss for words. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but silently note that the tips of his ears had gone red.

“I think you might be moving a little fast for the poor man, Iris,” Sherlock said, chuckling good-naturedly. “Let’s start by having him stay the night sometime in the near future first, shall we?”

Susato hastily dried her tears, then straightened up, smoothing out the front of her kimono. “Kazuma-sama, if I may, I’d like for us to find a place to put this up right now before you go. Shall we keep it somewhere in your suite, Mr Holmes, or would you rather we bring it up to the attic?”

“The entryway, Miss Susato, the entryway!” Sherlock was already off before any of the others could blink, in search of a hammer and nails; Iris quickly followed him to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself in the process. Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato stood stock-still in the middle of the living room, staring after them in disbelief. Then, the three of them couldn’t help but burst into laughter in perfect harmony.

_____

It was pitch black by the time Kazuma readied himself to leave, buckling up his boots and slipping on his coat. He frowned somewhat when he realized he’d already pulled his gloves on, yet had forgotten to button his coat. Before he could remove them, someone else’s hands were on his front, dutifully buttoning him up on his behalf.

“Ryunosuke,” he said, surprised.

“I’m really glad you made it tonight,” Ryunosuke said, doing up the last of Kazuma’s buttons. He then took a step back, offering Kazuma a boyish smile. “As I said, I just wish we’d had that conversation earlier, but...I suppose the most important thing is that we had it in the first place.”

“How surprisingly mature of you,” Kazuma teased, smirking when Ryunosuke’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“We’re back to this again, are we?” Ryunosuke sighed, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “You never could resist poking fun on my behalf. I’d bet you some of our old classmates are still debating whether you actually liked me or not.”

“It's hardly my fault that no one reacts quite the same way that you do,” Kazuma grinned. Then, he squeezed Ryunosuke’s arm. “Really, though, thank you for hearing me out earlier. I’m not even sure I explained myself properly - honestly, I felt like a complete mess - but you seemed to understand me all the same.”

“I know a thing or two about...what was it? ‘Not being the most articulate speaker in the world’?” Ryunosuke mused, laughing when Kazuma scowled. “Your words, Kazuma, not mine.”

“Yes, well…” Kazuma ducked his head for a moment so he could readjust his gloves. “...Ryunosuke. Earlier, when you said that I’ve always been more than a friend...what did you mean, exactly?”

Ryunosuke’s breath hitched. “Oh, um...well, I-I’d just told you that you were part of my family, too. That you always have a place here, with me, Susato-san, Mr Holmes, and Iris.”

Kazuma nodded, making a noncommittal noise under his breath. “Right, of course. Anyway, I’ll be seeing you on - ” And suddenly, Ryunosuke’s lips were on his, just like that. He barely had enough time to blink before Ryunosuke pulled back, blushing furiously. “...Ryu?”

“Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t - I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Ryunosuke stammered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just about to leave, and - ”

“And if you meant it, you would do it again so I can actually kiss you back,” Kazuma said firmly. It seemed to take Ryunosuke a moment to process, then, he grabbed Kazuma by the coat lapels and pulled him back in for another kiss. Ryunosuke felt Kazuma smirk against his lips, wrapping his arms around Ryunosuke’s waist so he could hold him even closer, the two of them relishing one another’s warmth. “...better. Marginally better.”

“So mean,” Ryunosuke mumbled, sighing as he unceremoniously detached himself from Kazuma’s embrace, though any ill will he felt towards Kazuma and his acerbic nature was quickly quashed when he saw the way Kazuma looked at him - like he finally believed in every word that Ryunosuke had said. “Friday, then?”

“I was going to suggest we meet up for breakfast tomorrow, after my meeting,” Kazuma suggested. “We’ve got more catching up to do, after all. And I was hoping you could get me up to speed on Mr Holmes’ latest exploits before he or Iris starts questioning me the next time I come by.”

Grinning, Ryunosuke gave Kazuma one last kiss before finally letting him go. “...it’s a date.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! I'm mad at myself for writing this entire Baker Street family fic and somehow completely forgetting to include Wagahai until the very end, especially considering how I include Mikeko in literally every Klapollo fic I possibly can. Anyway, I promise this is the last of my sad Kazuma hours for this week; I know this fic and day one's fic are similar in concept, but the rest of my entries (if I manage to finish them, that is) are established relationship and one modern AU, if that's something you're into!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[tsipasce]

Same Difference, ch.02

A/N: “Overwhore has now entered the chat”

Chapters: 01 | 03 | 04

After her last appointment, Nanami made her way back home, trying her best not to replay her feeble attempt at playing hero in her head. “Why the hell did I do that? A real hero would have seen it and helped him… Eventually” she said aloud talking to herself on the drive home. After how serious things got today, putting on music just didn’t seem right. “Besides, he looked like he had a quirk that could’ve helped him” But he also looked afraid her own thoughts cutting her off. No matter how reckless it was to use her quirk in front of someone else—much less a stranger—Nanami knew deep down it was the right thing to do. Whatever consequences came with it, she’d be able to accept them if it meant saving a life. How noble~… and also really, really reckless. Shaking off the last sting of self-chastisement, she reminded herself that tonight was for relaxing. Whether or not some pointy haired guy blabs about one of my biggest secrets, the relaxation train is still going to pull into the station, right on schedule.

Cruising up to her apartment complex, she gazed longingly at her place, her sanctuary. There was a bath bomb and a glass of wine with her name on it. After a long soak and a glass or two, she slid into bed trying her best to forget about anything that might kill the very carefully cultivated vibes.

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 The next day Nanami awoke refreshed, her skin glowing from all the pampering and soaking the night before. She had grand plans of being productive and running some light errands, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to look good while doing it. She’d usually dress as comfortably as possible for simple errands, but she was feeling cute and self-indulgent, so why not dress the part? After having to cover up so many cute outfits with my white coat, I deserve it. She thought, resolutely.

After rummaging through the closet for a bit, she found the look: a soft baby blue dress with a sweetheart neckline and subtle ruffles at the hem and sleeves. She grabbed her small white bag and sneakers then did a quick sashay in the mirror for good measure. It was wild to think she looked this cute and carefree, even after the panic caused by yesterday’s little incide—nope. No. We’re not thinking about that, today is going to be fun, damnit. she convinced herself.

With that settled, she headed out the door and walked to her favorite neighborhood tea shop for a quick drink. The weather was somehow better than it was yesterday, and the perfect breeze wicked just the right amount of heat off her sun-kissed skin… but something just didn’t feel right. It felt as though someone was watching her. No, that can’t be right. I’m just still shaken up from yesterday. Stop being so paranoid and just enjoy the day. Fun and Carefree, remember?

Brushing off it off, she went about her day, but the feeling of eyes on her never seemed to go away. At the post office, it felt like someone was just in the background, sneaking around in her blind spot. In the grocery store, it felt as if someone was just on the other aisle, peering through the boxes. And on the platform for the train, she was convinced someone was going to emerge from the crowd and make a B-line towards her –she had had enough. Maybe I just need to take a moment and sit down to relax. If someone is tailing me, I’ll at least get a chance to spot them if I stay in one place, she concluded.

With that decided, it was high-time for a coffee break and a much-needed pick-me-up. Considering she barely got to sip her order from yesterday before it was unceremoniously spilled while saving that stranger, she decided to give the cafe Dr. Tanaka recommended another go. She ordered her drink and treat, choosing a table by the window. She decompressed, relishing in the moment, as she found herself sitting alone in a cute, little coffee shop, cracking open a book while she waited for her order. After a couple minutes she could feel someone approaching. Assuming it to be the barista, she didn’t look up until they were close, too close.

Her order was slid in front of her, and it’s wrong, but it’s also the exact same order she spilt yesterday. She lifted her gaze in confusion and--Oh no.

It was him, the same stranger from yesterday. Damnit. What’s he doing here?

Before she got the chance to ask, he began, “Hello, miss.”

She panicked and defaulted to the ol’ play dumb routine, “Hello sir, do I know you?” she asked innocently.

His expression didn’t waver and she could tell he wasn’t buying it, but he continued anyway, “Of course, you do.” He smiled knowingly, “Remember? A rather large steel beam was about to crush me yesterday but you swooped in and turned it int—”

“Sh. Sh. Sh. Please. Stop talking,” she raised her hands pleadingly as she took a cautious look around, hoping no one was eavesdropping on the exchange.

His smile faded, but his face remained soft, “I wanted to thank you for your…impressive reflexes yesterday. You saved me.”

“Look, I understand if you might want to thank me, but it’s really not necessary. I’m not a hero by any means, so I’d just like to put this behind us, okay?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he replied resolutely. “Could you please come with me for a moment? I have someone who would like to speak with you about what happened yesterday.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want to speak with them. And what do you mean you can’t?” exasperated, she  continued “If you really want to thank me, you’ll leave this alone and refrain from creepily asking me to go anywhere with a total stranger.”

He was slowly becoming irritated now, and she wondered why he was so determined to continue this interaction. “It is because I am grateful that I am only ‘creepily asking’.”

“’Only’? Is that a threat?” She asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he replied matter-of-factly. The nerve of this guy.

“Yeah. Hell no. I’m not going anywhere with you, and this conversation is over,” Nanami began packing up her things in a huff, preparing to storm out.” Follow me and you’ll regret it,” she threatened, though it was half-empty. She didn’t have much in the way of combat skills, but there was no need to let him know that.

As she got up to leave, he firmly grabbed hold of her wrist. Before she could protest, she was caught off-guard by the sincere look of concern in his eye as he pled with her:

“Please.”

Is he…worried?

She ignored the thought and snatched her wrist back, “Like I said, don’t follow me.”

She made a swift, stormy exit praying he didn’t decide to call her bluff and pursue the interaction any further. What the hell was his deal? This is really not my day... Her stomach grumbled and she lamented the lost treats for the second time this week. She got so lost in thought that she strolled right past the blacked-out car parked in front of the café. Before she knew it, the door flew open and she was pulled in, bumping her head as the door slammed behind her.

“What the hell?” she asked to no one in particular, trying to get her bearings.

Her eyes began to focus on what looked like.. a beak? No, a plague mask, then piercing yellow eyes—wonderful eyelashes though. The man sitting before her seemed to be studying her quite intently before he spoke.

“Who are you?” He asks with equal measures of malice and curiosity.

“Who am I? You abducted me! Who the fuck are you ??” She returned the question incredulously. There were way too many men who were way too comfortable manhandling her today, and it was starting to piss her off.

He didn’t seem to appreciate her response as his eyes hardened further and his eyebrow twitched as though he was barely containing a fit of rage. He leaned forward, now tugging upward at the hem of his glove, “I won’t ask again. Who are you?”

Taking full stock of her situation, she realized three things: One, she’d just been kidnapped (though the car hadn’t moved yet). Two, she was on the floor of said car, and seemingly at the mercy of her kidnapper who by now she guessed was going to use his quirk on her if she didn’t answer his questions. And three, she was mad as hell and not going down without a fight. Knowing this, her mouth moved before her brain could intervene:

“Fuck. You.” she replied, her words full of venom, “I don’t have to answer to some—” before she could finish her sentence, he swiftly removed his gloves and grabbed her by both arms roughly. She prepared for the worst as all the muscles in her body tensed, bracing for impact and she felt…nothing. I don’t feel a thing.

Judging by the look on his face, she could tell he was focused and obviously trying to do something, but nothing was happening. A look of genuine confusion settled on what she could see of his face and she could tell that whatever he meant to do hadn’t worked out. At all. Taking it as her only chance for escape, she raised herself up and towards him, now in between his legs on the backseat of the car. Running on pure adrenaline, she deftly slid her hands under his jacket and placed them on his waist. He’s much more muscular than I thought the thought came and she immediately rolled her eyes at herself. Gross. Stay focused, she chastised herself. She easily found the spot she was looking for and used a technique she had honed as a young girl upon first discovering her quirk. If anything could get her out of this situation and out of his grasp, it was this.

She took a deep breath and focused: Reverb. His eyes shot wide open for a moment and she knew it had worked. Now to wait for the…

“AHAHAHAHHAHAAAHAHAHA” He began to cry out, laughing uncontrollably.

There it is. She thought triumphantly. She gave it a cool name like “Reverb”, but it was really quite a simple and relatively harmless “attack”. Right now, the nerve fibers around his abdominals were rapidly being broken down and rebuilt, causing them to fire and contract in waves. In laymen terms: her bird-mouthed abductor was now experiencing the most thorough tickling known to man.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” He managed to yell out between fits of laughter.

The driver began rolling down the partition, confusion evident in his voice,

“Overhaul? What’s happening back there?”

Knowing she only had another 30 seconds or so until the effects wore off, she slipped away. After frantically disassembling the locked car door and reassembling it into a solid block of metal and plastic, she bolted down the street and out of sight. She was tempted to look back, but upon hearing the cackling mixed with  “I’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS” she found the resolve to stay focused and keep going for the next couple blocks.

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 She made it back to her apartment and slammed the door behind her, slumping to the floor.

 What in the hot hell just happened back there?? She thought frantically, realizing the adrenaline was wearing off and she would soon have to face the reality of the situation: She was almost kidnapped.

Not only that, but she was almost positive it was because of the guy she saved yesterday.

Why was he trespassing like that on a construction site anyway? Who or what is “Overhaul”? What was he trying to do to me back there?

Her mind was racing a mile a minute, but she knew she needed to calm down and get it together. After a couple, solid “woosahs”, she formulated a plan: Call the cops and report this immediately like a normal, law-abiding citizen.

Except now I’m not law-abiding anymore after “illegally performing an act of heroism”. What if it all gets traced back to me? They’ll discover my quirk and… No. I can’t risk them knowing…

She knew she couldn’t report it, but at the very least she could phone a friend. She needed to get this off of her chest and alert them. If she weren’t lucky enough to escape the next time, at least they’d know where to start looking. She let out a long sigh and reached for her bag but came up empty.

Shit. I left it in his car 

[jjba-hell]

Don’t Pass Me By

Honestly I could give a whole speech about how far I’ve wandered from canon with this guy but I mean the prompt IS AU- so I mean... my canon now, right? 

This is a fluffy mess with a slight surprise twist at the end- by far a piece I enjoyed writing without being crazy about the results so well and truly- good luck.

This is a twist on the whole college AU. Ghia is a bit younger, had pitch black curls before acquiring his stand and a tiny bit more mellow (and taller but I’m not opening that discussion).

Triggers? Other than some financial insecurity on reader’s behalf, anxiety-inducing info near the end, possible bullying and Ghiaccio’s signature loud mouth this is an EXTREMELY fluffy piece...

Tags for @giogio-gucci-gangstar​, @lasquadraweek2020​

3,5 K words, Gender Neutral reader

“My thighs are on fire! Can I please take a break?” You whined as you skid in wide circles around the centre of the ice with the momentum you had built up a few seconds before.

“I thought you were athletic. Your time is still too slow.” Ghiacchio called back from the rink edge behind you.

Doubling over your own legs with a groan you moved back to the starting point.

“Still don’t get how you can get fast enough to spin around the air three times but can’t make a good lap.” He grumbled before signalling for you to start.

You knew the position you were in was strange- were you really selling your time and training for the sake of a university scholarship? Yes. Could you only HOPE it was worth it? Also, yes. But you had your reasons.

By the suggestion of your scholarship manager- you had to come under the tutelage of Ghiacchio, an ex-ice hockey star that wasn’t handling rehabilitation very well.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were getting yourself into when you walked into that practice session but one warning stuck out above the rest- “His temper is a bit overactive.”

You had figured this out pretty soon when you first met Ghiacchio- you were walking through the bleachers as the team was mid-practice, more specifically a mock game, with Ghiacchio standing on the side-lines, drumming his fingers on the open edge of the rink.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were itching to be on the ice.” You spoke when you finally finished coming down the bleachers and stood beside him.

He looked down at you with a scowl that would have scared you, if you hadn’t seen worse. You didn’t pay it any mind as you watched the game unfold in front of you.

The players skating by closest to you and Ghiacchio were on their way to the opposite goal when someone’s stick slid in front of the carrier’s skates and caused a trip. You only knew from having to sit down and watch hockey games with your dad back home, that it was a foul. But you figured if you were going to at least pique his interest in training you, you needed to start somewhere. So, you called it.

“Foul!” Which seemed to get him to divide his attention between you and the game in front of you. The whistle blew.

“What the hell are you-“ Ghiaccio started, but instead you decided to explain to the coach was you’d seen.

“That was an intended trip, penalty to the reds.”

The team stopped to look at you, some of them smiling stupidly with their mouth guards like they were trying to get your attention- couldn’t have been because you knew how to play their game, right? Sure you didn’t look the part but they couldn’t just assume.

The coach skid by on the ice between you and the team and blew the whistle again. “They’re right. Get in formation for a penalty.”

The team collectively groaned as they moved away from you and to the goal for a penalty shot.

“Ah, just the person I wanted to see. Ghiacchio, this is Y/n L/n, they need some hockey coaching.” The coach gestured to you, letting you wave in a mock friendly manner.

Ghiacchio angrily turned to his coach. “Do they even skate?”

“You know you could just ask me yourself.” You interjected. You turned around to lean with your back against the rink, looking at Ghiacchio who was facing forward. He scowled down at you- somewhat taller than you but not by much with the tightest curls you’d ever seen on a guy.

“Can you even skate?” he practically spat in your direction.

“I can but only figure skate. That’s why I need you to coach me.”

Ghiacchio grunted. “Why now?”

The coach chipped in this time. “It doesn’t matter, Ghia. At least teach a new player to get on the ice since you’re too scared to get back on.”

You winced, that was harsh, even for a coach. Ghiacchio’s scowl became darker, he opened his mouth to say something, but the coach stopped him again.

“That’s not a request. Your scholarship is already in hot water with the board.”

The anger seemed to steep even more over Ghiacchio’s face- radiating heat you could feel through the air conditioning in the rink and turning red over his face.

He reached his hand up and beckoned the coach closer- it took you a moment to realize what he was going to do- so instead of letting it all unfold, the second Ghiaccio’s hand grabbed the front of the coach’s jacket, you grabbed hold of the hand that he had balled up in a fist at his side.

“Ghia, come on you don’t wanna do that.”

He whipped himself out of your grip and let go of the coach. “Don’t tell me what I don’t wanna do!” He yelled right in your face which you didn’t really take personal, not even letting you say anything else as he was already on his way up the stairs to the exit before you could do anything else. “You wanna get the shit beaten out of you so bad, be at rink 4C, tonight at 8.” He shouted back as he walked out the door.

You looked back at the coach and the rest of the team who stood in shock, still at their previous positions. “Am I gonna get the shit beaten out of me?” You asked and it seemed to bring a laugh out of everyone.

“Just be on the ice and he’ll be too scared to go after you.” One of the team members called out and let the others laugh.

The coach sent them to drills as he spoke to you one more time. “They’re not kidding. He won’t lift a hand to anyone he doesn’t know but you should still steer clear- he’s got one hell of a temper on him.”

You nodded and thanked the coach for the opportunity before heading off to get some homework done before what you could only assume was gonna be a no-show from Ghiacchio so with your skates tucked away in your duffel bag, over your shoulder and a pack of cigarettes in your jacket pocket you head down the courtyard stairs towards the back entrance of rink 4C- where you were instructed by the coach to wait to be unlocked.

You were surprised to find Ghiacchio already there, the door to the rink open and beating you to lighting a cigarette to decompress after a long day.

“You’re early.” Was all he said with an annoyed frown. Straight off the bat you were grateful he wasn’t already shouting at you.

“Gee, I wonder why.” You grumbled back as you closed the door and lit your own cigarette.

Ghiacchio straightened and walked over to you. “You probably got those dainty skates, don’t you?”

You pinched your cigarette between your lips as you opened your bag to let him see- it only made sense to cooperate with him to keep up this strange peace you thought you’d have to earn but surprisingly, he gently brought your skate out of the bag to scrutinize them, cigarette poised between his teeth.

“Average shoe size but slightly more narrow than I expected- you’re probably gonna end up having to add padding to compensate for that.” The phrase was said with no angry undertone, so you assumed his anger was directed more at the coach when you tried to talk to him at the rink before. “I’m guessing you know from personal experience?” you asked- perhaps too sweetly.

He nodded as he removed his cigarette from his lips. “The fucks that make our skates think we’re built like oxen.”

You took a drag of your cigarette and then asked. “I’m speaking out of inexperience here, but don’t you need to be able to take a body slam?”

He frowned down at you. “What do you think all the padding is for? Speed is more useful anyway- trying to push your opponents out of the way is stupid- the game suddenly turns into a wrestling match on ice.”

You shrugged at that. “I’ll take your word for it.” You knew you were not much of strategist anyway.

You bent down and killed the cigarette on the pavement and then proceeded to throw it away in the trash. “I’m guessing there are some spare skates I can try on?”

Ghiacchio nodded as he followed your example then stepped inside. “You can warm up in your own skates first.”

You didn’t really argue that. Some of your own skate fittings were after practice so the swelling from the exercise was considered. You had snuck up to the booth to slip in your mix to play over the speakers- admittedly you’d never gotten opportunity to have a rink to yourself despite your rank in the figure skating team. You were always practicing with your Walkman in your pocket and headphones over your ears.

So, to be skating on your own with just your music blasting without the pressure of competition on your shoulder was refreshing. Ghiacchio stood at the skater’s entrance with a pair of skates hanging from his shoulder. Your first skating instructor would have had a stroke at anyone waiting for you outside of the rink but Ghiacchio didn’t say anything- letting you finish your warm up and then gliding over to Ghiacchio who directed you to the bench where you sat down and untied your boot.

At the appearance of your socks or rather- the lightweight tights- made him frown.

“How old are those shoes?” He pointed at your skates.

“About 5 years, why?”

Ghiacchio sighed as he started undoing the laces on the new boots. “Because those socks are not gonna survive these-“

“I brought another pair.” You reached over to your bag beside you to pull out some fluffy socks- mismatched of course.

Ghiacchio’s gaze was focused somewhere else, his jaw set in an obviously angry glare at the floor.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you.” You tried to smooth things over with your heartbeat clambering into your ears.

In your nervousness you unraveled the socks to reveal their mismatched beauty even more. Ghiacchio’s gaze fell on your hands and you could swear a small smile cracked his scowling demeanor. “Those’ll work better.”

You smiled with him as you pulled them over your first pair.

He knelt down and helped you slip your foot into the new boot- something you were definitely not expecting. Was it weird? To feel special to have him tying your boot like this? Too Cinderella-y?

Getting up felt wrong- you had your balance but true to Ghiacchio’s guess your feet WERE too narrow for the boot but with no space behind your ankle or in front of your toes.

He seemed to understand as you sat back down on the bench and without another word he sat cross-legged in front of you pulling out some tape and thick plastic padding. Holding your booted foot across his knee he asked you- “So where would you say the loose fit is the worst?”

You pointed out to the sides of the ball of your foot. It was a quick fix and watching him peel the boot open to expertly insert the padding and then re-lace the boot was almost therapeutic to watch. The second fit was nearly perfect save for side of your bridge which you deemed you’d fix later but he stopped his work. “Still not right?” he asked. Were you breathing too much into it or was that some crazy intuition?

“Just the bridge needs a bit more on the outside.”

Without even complaining, he added the padding to both boots and helped you lace up again. “Perfect.”

“Good. Now get on the ice, you’re gonna need to adjust.”

He was right of course- it seemed simple at first. Moving around and skating around was easy enough but your first turn was met with a chin on the ice.

“Those blades don’t do that.” Was all he said as you got up with a groan.

You took a few laps, feeling like a new born deer every time you tried to make a turn- eventually figuring out how to make a proper straight lap.

You started taking a few laps with Ghiacchio holding the stopwatch until a groundskeeper waved the two of you to wrap it up.

Taking off your skates with a hiss at the scrapes from the inside of the boot you looked at Ghiacchio who was studying your new wounds under the socks with disinterest.

“They just need to be broken in.” You said as you slipped on the blade protectors onto your new skates.

Ghiacchio only nodded, seeming tired as you made your way out of the building towards the campus dorms in silence until it seemed like he couldn’t hold it any longer. “No jokes, why do you want to join the ice hockey team anyway? Aren’t you successful enough in figure skating?”

You could swear your heart skip a beat at his interest in you. It’s not exactly like high school where everyone’s accomplishments are shared with the rest of the school. He probably had to go ask around to figure out who you were. “I’m starting a post-graduate course, but my sponsors aren’t THAT generous.”

“Geez, you have sponsors?”

“Just like your teams do, except you know- your sponsors cover for gear and mine pays for my gear and hostel and class expenses.”

Ghiacchio turned to look at you with a confused scowl, standing stock still under a street lamp. “I said no jokes.”

You stopped and looked back at him, with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not. My parents didn’t have money to send me here, the university wanted me but even with scholarship my parents didn’t want to spend anything on me.”

Ghiacchio let a flicker of sadness over his eyes. “That’s bad.”

“It’s not that bad- my job covers anything else I want.”

Giving a loud, drawn out groan he started walking again- “Fuck! Classes, a job AND two sports. You must be insane.”

“Ah come on its not that bad. I actually enjoy being on the ice- it gives me some time to do as I please.”

He scoffed at that. “Naïve.”

“And when did you start playing?”

“Since high school, as a matter of fact.”

“Got you beat- I started in elementary school.”

You arrived at the dormitory courtyard and stopped at the centrepiece. “Yeah well you didn’t have to get your kneecaps removed because of an accident.”

You were about to tell him you were sorry about his injury, but he had turned around and walked away- unbothered and with just a simple. “Sleep well- same time tomorrow.”

So, you kept up the routine- figure skating in the morning, classes, homework and then laps. Countless laps under Ghiacchio’s supervision.

Until one day you angrily stomped your way off the ice and sat down with a groan.

“Get back on.” Was all you got as he closed in on you from the opposite side of the rink.

You laughed up at the ceiling as you panted for your breath back.

“Why don’t you teach me, by demonstration, how to reach that speed?”

“I don’t skate anymore.” He growled back.

You picked your head up to look at him, “So you’re retired from your glory days?”

“Yeah! So?”

“So! How about you stop hiding how badly you want to get on the ice and just get on?”

“I don’t want to get back on the ice.” He hissed back through gritted teeth.

“Oh please, I could see through that lie from day one. You miss it! You miss putting on your boots and fixing up the padding, you miss working on your turns, you miss the bit of excitement you feel when you hop over someone’s stick. And you know how I can tell? Because you’re trying to make me like it too.”

He looked over you, leaning in low to be face to face with you. “I hate skating- nothing you say is going to change that.”

“You don’t hate it- why else would you be at a rink with me every day. You don’t hate skating, Ghia- you hate running laps until you throw up, you hate games, you hate the pressure, you hate the scrapes you get into. And I can prove it.”

“How?”

You started undoing the laces on your boots. “Put some skates on and just- just glide with me.”

His angry scowl softened quickly- watching in almost confusion as you replaced your skates.

“Come on, I know you still bring your skates to practice.”

With a resistant huff he sat down and started putting his skates on. You didn’t wait up, hopping onto the ice with a happy sigh.

You could admit that your new training regime wasn’t really easy on your body- you felt tense after training with Ghiacchio and joining with your soon-to-be team showed you how unnecessarily he pushed you to be the best.

He stood at the precipice with his skates, one foot on the edge and the other still on the ground- looking awfully unsure.

“Stop worrying! If I can figure out how to skate on those horrendous things in a week- you can at least try to get back on.” You called back, turning around and waiting, watching as he took one step onto the ice and pushed himself forward gently. You moved forward to skate alongside him- running your hand along the rim of the rink while he took it closer to the inside.

“You know I’ve never seen you show off your speciality.” He spun around, leaning back to glide backwards.

“You never asked.”

“Teach me something then.”

Stopping a little way just to slow down you continued to speak. “A spin is pretty basic but not as easy as it looks.”

You built up some speed and moved to the center of the rink, you set your foot at the angle and twirled calmly- fixing Ghiacchio as your spotting point.

“What are you doing with your head?”

“Spotting.” Is all you said before kicking your other foot out and stopping. “So you don’t get dizzy.”

Moving back to Ghiacchio who was moving towards you, he laughed- something you’d never heard. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

Then he did something you couldn’t quite believe. His hand latched around your wrist and for a moment you thought you’d lead but he was the one that took you for a lap around the rink. You had decided not to say anything- you knew how much it took simply for him to be on the ice. So you waited until he popped the question.

“So you’re telling me, in all your years on ice, you’ve never been injured?”

“Oh I’ve had a few injuries. Worst was also a pretty big knee injury, then it was an ankle twist but that was because my skates were too big, then a blade gave out mid performance once and slung itself into my arm.”

Ghiacchio hissed, entwining his hand with yours. “And who pushed you back on the ice?”

“Myself. You may call me naive but skating is all I’ve ever had.”

By then you two were just gliding- you backwards and him forward. His face fell- his other hand found yours. “What about home? Family? You said you had parents.”

You smiled through swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah but I mean life stays stressful, doesn’t it?”

Ghiacchio slowed you down, his hand tugging you back to a slow stop. He seemed to survey your face with a stern sadness in his eyes. “I won’t force you to tell me. But your silence says allot.”

He let go of your hand and was about to go but you held onto his other. It hurt that he had wormed his way into you so quickly- you weren’t sure if you wanted to go there but...it hurt more to let him go. “Don’t- don’t go.” There was a tense moment of silence as he gazed down between your hands. So you sought to fill it. “Wanna go out for coffee? Saturday morning? I have off from work.”

He laughed softly. “Don’t take off from Figure practice for me.”

It hurt so bad to watch him move off, running a hand through his tight dark curls as he walked back off the ice.

Life took a sudden turn, overwhelmingly quick- Ghiacchio didn’t show up at practice anymore, but coach had told you he “finally got over himself” and was back on the ice again and the board had informed you your sponsors had a sudden change of heart and would be sponsoring your course fully.

The next time you had seen Ghiacchio you had hardly recognized him, sitting at the campus diner with a blonde friend of his. His own hair however was dyed a powder blue.

“Ghia?” You frowned down at him, confused. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. How is everything.”

Beside him his friend smiled at you with hooded eyes. “Ghiacchio, you never introduced me to your friend.”

“Keep your lecherous thoughts off them, Melone.” He warned his friend before looking up at you. “I actually came to talk to you about something. You think you can give me a minute?”

You called one of your co-workers over to help Melone as you snuck around back with Ghiacchio.

“I’m sorry I disappeared. But I do want to give this one more shot.” His hands reached for yours, stepping closer to lean down to bring your faces together. “Only if you’re willing.”

“I’m willing,” you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him. “Only if I can get an apology kiss.”

He complied with a soft laugh- the minty taste of his mouth making your head spin and your heart do a flip in its chest.

If only it had been so simple. If only you didn’t share your pasts and found out that he had orchestrated your exemption from the ice hockey team- your sponsors increase in allowance. You wish you didn’t know how much contact he had in the mafia because now you had one too many things on your plate- a target on your back being one of them.

[kashimos-hajime]

immeasurable firsts | s.r.

Summary: All your firsts with Steve Rogers and all the heartbreak and happiness that comes with it.

A/N: For the writing challenge hosted by the fabulous @imhereforbvcky and the wonderful @justsomebucky. 

Dedicating this to @wxntersoldiers because I still have to write for her and I hope this’ll make up for how late I’m gonna submit it in! (I’ll get to it soon!!!!)

WARNINGS: Swearing, blood, violence, death, extreme angst but some happy stuff too.

Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark-sister! Reader Prompt: The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Four easy words to describe Tony Stark.

You, on the other hand. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist all fit. Playboy? Perhaps. You prefer socialite. The paparazzi has always had their bite at you but that doesn’t mean that none of it is true.

You are Y/N Stark, younger sister of one Anthony Edward Stark, one certified pain in the ass, and one big brother. He was basically everything you had ever since your parents died. He raised you. He was your dad, and mom, and brother all at once, and you know that no one could’ve done it better. From what you know and what Tony tells you about your dad, you’re better off.

But your mom… you miss her every day.

On a full-ride to MIT just like him, you succeeded him in every way, graduating summa cum laude just like him, but while he did it when he was seventeen, you did it when you were eighteen. He always held that fact over you, but not after you mentioned that while he hacked into the Pentagon for a dare, you hacked into the Harry S. Truman building for fun. State department had a field day with that one.

As Stark Industries head of Research and Development, you occupy all of four floors and helped more than 12% to make Stark Towers the first building powered by self-sustainable clean energy, but you’d let your brother take all that credit if it meant your brother gets some with Pepper.

“Ma’am, Agent Coulson is on the line. Mr. Stark deferred him to you.” Swiping the holoscreen to close it, you look up from where you’re working on new schematics for your suit.

“Tony’s in.”

“Mr. Stark insists on refusing the call, and Agent Coulson insists on seeing him.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull up another holoscreen that linked you to the surveillance feed. Switching through the cameras, you swipe for Tony’s private elevator. You spot the agent standing outside the elevator, texting away on his phone and you turn on your mic with a smile.

“Hey, Phil,” you greet and the agent looked up, turning to the camera.

“Ms. Stark.” He gives you a little wave and you straighten up, putting your stylus away and turning off your tablet. Moving the surveillance feed to your phone, you walk to the couch you had in your office, sitting down and pulling your laptop on with you. Opening it up, you log in. “If you could ask your brother to pick up the phone, that’d be a great help.”

“You know Tony doesn’t listen to me.” Opening up the files Tony had sent you earlier, blueprints for Stark Tower and the grocery list for next week, you roll your eyes at the note at the end. ‘Pep said it’s my turn to do nothing for a whole week,’ it reads. Your fingers work away on your keyboard as you return your attention to Phil. “I’m going to disable J.A.R.V.I.S.’s protocols and give random people access to his private elevator because he’s annoyed me just now. You do whatever you want with that information.”

“Thank you. And you might need to join me, Ms. Stark.”

“Is it something important? Because my consulting hours don’t normally run this long. Also, I thought I said I didn’t want anymore S.H.I.E.L.D. assignments.” Tapping away on your keyboard, you have the elevator doors open and bypass the A.I.’s protocols.

“It’s urgent.”

“When do I ever care about that?” you retort. The call ends and you get up anyway, glaring at your phone. With a heavy sigh, you slip the device into your pocket before looking at the few holo screens you have open around the office. The levels of the reactor are stable, and you watch as they fluctuated, readjusting every once in a while.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., shut the place down. After I go see Tony, I’m heading home.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.”

You live essentially next door to the tower, and it isn’t important for you to bring anything home, so you grab your keys and purse before leaving your office of glass doors and walls and windows. The lights turn off behind you as you jab the elevator button, ready to head up to say goodnight to Tony and see what Phil Coulson thought was so urgent.

.

The Avengers Initiative.

And they thought Tony was a good fit?

“Volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others,” you recite as you read over the files in Tony’s penthouse on the top floor of Stark Towers. “If he wanted the better of the Starks, he would’ve chosen me,” you tease. Tony sighs, wiping a hand over his face and you frown. Sigh in that tone means frustration, exhaustion, and he’s feeling overwhelmed.

“What is it?” Looking to see what’s caught your brother’s attention, you swallow and get up, walking around the couch to touch the hologram of the thing that your father had found instead of a man. “The Tesseract,” you whisper, suddenly finding your mouth very dry. Blinking, you twist the hologram around before pulling back. Your father had been obsessed with the thing. Hell, he probably loved it more than he ever loved the two of you. Your brother’s pulled back, too, arms crossed as his dark gaze flickers over the other portfolios.

“Some crack team, huh,” he mutters but your eyes can’t tear away from the blue glowing cube. Your dad always talked about it — well, it and Captain America, who happened to be in one of the portfolios, but you can’t help the nagging feeling that the cube is better left in the ocean where no one can find it. After all, they wouldn’t have to drag your brother into this mess if it was.

“Tony,” you call out when your brother moves for the bar. He pulls up a bottle of scotch and silently asks if you want a drink. Shaking your head, you bite your lip and gather what nerves you have left to ask the question. “Should I be worried?”

There is no answer.

.

“Hey, how was it?” you ask when Tony returns to the Helicarrier. The suit decompresses and you smirk, arching a brow. “Get the bad guy?”

“Yeah, and a plus one. Oh, uh—” Tony turns to the other guys piling out of the Quinjet. The clanging of chains catch your attention as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarm the jet, escorting the prisoner out. Loki, you realize. Following him is a tall blond and an even taller blond, though the taller one follows after Loki. Thor. Had to be. Your brother gestures to the two— “the rest of the crack team. You talk to Banner, yet?”

“Not yet. They told me he was down in the lab, but I was working on my suit. I’ve a new set of schematics I wanna try out, if you have the time.”

“You only made a suit to copy me,” he teases and you nudge him playfully. “Yeah, sure. If we have time, after the world finishes it’s self-destruction, or whatever, we should take it out for a spin.”

“Thanks, Ant.” He sighs at the nickname but you squeeze his arm, watching him go. He needs to get that suit off, and you need to get that decryption implant on the motherboard. If Tony’s going into this, he isn’t going into it blind. Anyone who’s working with the Tesseract, especially an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D., wouldn’t use this for clean energy. And you’ve worked missions with them before. You know that eco-friendly energy is the last thing on their mind. Howard Stark may have wanted it for clean energy, but if an intergalactic war is being had…

You put a pin on that train of your thought as your gaze drifted back to the armory. The shorter blond nodded to you with a smile, and you put on a fresh face for Steve Rogers, World War Two Hero, actual soldier-type with a cute smile. Tilting your head, you walk up to him and stick out a hand. In your heels, you could’ve tried to be as tall as him but his presence adds two inches to his height.

“Captain Rogers, honor to meet you.”

“Steve,” he amends as he quirks an eyebrow. “And you are? Sorry, it’s been a whirlwind couple of days.”

“Y/N Stark,” you say, shaking his hand. He’s warm and his blue eyes fix on yours as you take in his features. He’s even cuter up close. “And no problem. Not everyone can spend their time as a Capsicle.”

“Your brother made the same joke,” Steve says as you begin to walk down the hall with him.

“He only got the chance because he met you first.” Heading down to the briefing room, you glance at him to find him staring back. Arching an eyebrow, you wait until he notices and a brilliant blush spreads across his cheeks, but you smirk, brushing the hair away from your face and leading him to the room where your brother is waiting.

.

After the Battle of New York — that’s what the news is calling it, you call it an inconvenience — the dust settled to reveal the true damage of it. There’s a lot of rebuilding to do, specifically the area around Stark Tower, which means a lot of money is needed to repair downtown New York. Of course, the best way to get the rich to donate money is a charity ball, and the fact that it’s able to be doubled as a celebration ball makes Tony absolutely gleeful. You, on the other hand, would rather be anywhere but here. The destruction caused in Stark Tower has given you nothing but a headache and whilst Tony and the Avengers had gone for shawarma, you’d suited up to begin lifting the rubble and seeing the true damage underneath the whole ‘saving the planet’. Which you can respect, by the way, but you didn’t want to test out the new suit by lifting up heavy concrete and wires.

Now, all you want to do head back, take an Advil, and sleep the day off. Whilst the Avengers had decided to steal the show, you never said a thing about how Tony literally flew into a fucking wormhole.

You still need to yell at him for that one. Maybe cry. And hug him. For a long time.

“You need to relax,” Tony mumble through his smile as the three of you gathered your bearings to get out of the limousine.

“You need to stop making us late,” you retort. “And wormhole, remember? You’re still in for it.”

He sends you a sheepish smile, his eyes pleading apology, but you ignore it, stepping out. Pepper holds onto Tony’s arm to get out, whilst you pick up the edges of your dress, a brilliant scarlet dress, with a slit up the side of your leg and elegantly pull yourself up.

Adjusting the gold cuff on your wrist, you grab your gold clutch and shade your eyes against the flashes. Tony and Pep are already walking through the paparazzi, up the stairs to the venue for the Avengers, the cameras snapping away. Used to it, you tuck your hair behind your ear to showcase your outfit. In scarlet and gold, you shine under the flashes.

“Ms. Stark!” one of the photographers call out and you pause, striking a small pose before continuing on. The tire screeches behind you signify another arrival and you turn with a small smile, wondering who it could be. The black car’s window slide down, revealing a star-struck Steve Rogers and he steps out, squinting against the flashing lights. Raising a hand in half a wave and half a means to block the light, the super-soldier’s gaze dart across the scene before landing on you. You extend your hand to him, smiling. He speed-walks over to you, grateful for a friendly face and he offers an arm for you to take, escorting you inside.

“I’m glad you got out safe,” you begin, tucking a curl behind you ear as he focuses on getting up to the stairs. You throw a wave to the crowd, before adding, “I was maybe a tiny bit worried about you. More so about Tony, but then I wonder why.” You pretend to tap your chin in curiosity and he chuckles.

“I’m flattered. And you’re beautiful,” he mumbles under his breath, cheeks red but you can’t tell if it’s because of you or the cameras. Smiling softly, you press your head against his shoulder for a moment before lifting it again to look at the soldier. “I dunno if anyone’s told you that yet.”

“No one that matters,” you tell him and you pause to kiss his cheek. His shy smile makes you smile wider, the endearing expression on his face causing warmth to spread through you. Cameras take snapshots of your moment and you internally sigh. There comes one of the cons of being a public figure. You have no doubt some stupid hashtag like #Rogerstark or, you don’t know, #Ironcaptain, will be trending on twitter by the night’s end. “And you look good, too. Real good.”

“Uh,” he chuckles, blushing and you laugh. “Thanks.”

“Overwhelmed, yet?” You climb the steps, using Steve’s hand to steady yourself before he opens the door for you. You hold his hand to bring him in and the pap calls after the two of you even when the door closes. If he’s gonna give the press content, you might as well have fun with it. Even if he doesn’t mean too — he’s just being the gentleman he is.

“A bit, yeah, but not by the cameras.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you’re insulted or not. “By me?”

“In the best way. Gotta impress the most gorgeous woman in the room,” he promises and you hold him to that promise. “I’m sure the cameras will get worse, too. But you seem to be doing just fine,” he says and you chuckle. Patting his arm, you lead him, following the signs that say This Way or something of the variant.

“I grew up going to this kinda stuff. I’m used to it by now. But if you keep being you, the press is gonna eat you up.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re a real gentleman, Rogers,” you sing. The foyer is filled with tons of guests, some drinking while others are eating some nuts or chips, and there’s an open door leading to the white carpet. Of course, they’re waiting for all the Avengers to go on first, and you can hear the anxious muttering of the paparazzi outside the room.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“Well, people like prying into other people’s lives,” you continue and he nods. His gaze darts across the room just as a server comes by with a tray of champagne. Disentangling your arm from Steve’s, you take two. “Steve, I’m just saying, the paps love to make speculations about Tony and I. Sometimes, it’s the only thing keeping them open, and a lot of people don’t like the attention, the stalkers, the fans.” Offering the champagne, you give him a forced smile. “A lot of people don’t wanna stay because of it.”

“What if I want to?”

“What?” You nearly let out a laugh but Steve looks totally serious as his gaze catches yours. They’re darker, more intense, but there’s still that sense of light to him. Like he’s having fun getting the shock out of you.

“I said, what if I wanted to stay? I’m an Avenger now. Might as well get used to it and I think we’re stuck with each other.”

You drain your champagne, blink, and then stare at him as if he’s grown a second head. “I have no illusions on being a celebrity, Y/N. I’ve had a few experiences of my own, and it may be a bit different from back then, but I know.”

“It’s a lot different, Steve.”

“Maybe not so much.” He takes your hand and the champagne, leading you to the side of the room where there are small high tables where people can stand and chat over food, and he places his full flute and your empty one on the tablecloth. “Y/N, I’m just saying, let the press eat it up. We know what we are.”

And what’s that? you wonder helplessly as he says that they should get to the carpet. Tony and Pepper have already started, and Steve visibly recoils. Looping your arm through his, you send him a reassuring smirk, if possible.

“You might have to squint, Cap,” you whisper nefariously and he sends you a roll of his eyes as you put on your celebrity face. It hides your inner turmoil well as you kill over Steve’s words. With the most handsome man in the room on your arm, you send smolder and smolder whilst the soldier tries to ease into his smiles. It’s easier once you get him laughing at your jokes, and it’s hard to imagine you’d ever dreaded going to the event at all.

.

To say you and Steve see each other over the next few years would be an understatement. Seeing as how you are in Washington occasionally, flying back and forth for work, the Triskelion is one of the few places you’d actually get excited to see once in a while. You’re actually in Washington when Steve’s called away on a mission. Sitwell’s called you in for an emergency consult. Well, he called Tony. You picked up the call. And what you came to was Nick Fury’s deathbed.

The image makes you shudder.

Suiting up, you propel yourself out of your Washington flat and fly towards the Triskelion. At night, Washington looks like any other city, breathtaking and alight with life. The Washington Monument’s glow casts its base in warm light as you fly over it, slowing down to admire your view and postpone going to the Triskelion. Ever since Steve knocked out the S.T.R.I.K.E. team in the elevator, you’ve been feeling like there had to be a reason.

Your reflection in the water is barely visible except for the glow of your repulsors, eyes, and arc reactor, and you float above it, the squirming feeling in your stomach ever growing.

Why do you have the feeling just like the one before the Battle of New York?

A number you don’t recognize calls you, but you pick up anyway, having A.N.A encrypt your location just in case as you fight off the feeling. Tony’s safe in New York — as safe as he can be fixing up the quarters for the Avengers who still drop by from time to time. Just one night of consultation, and then you’re back there with him, eating microwave dinners and working on new things.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Steve? Where are you?” Shaking yourself, you continue on your way to the Triskelion just as his voice echoes in your ears again.

“Sam’s. And you need to listen to me.”

“Are you okay?” you ask despite yourself. You haven’t seen him since the hospital, and if you’re honest with yourself, you kinda miss him. Plus, he wasn’t looking too great when you’d left.

You hold his hand, stepping closer as he stares at Natasha’s back. The red-haired woman’s head is bowed to hide her tears and you look to Steve. His eyes stare back at you but he doesn’t truly see you as you wrap your other hand around his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. He squeezes your hand tighter. You simply close your eyes and press your cheek against his jacket as your fingers interlace. He looks down, and you raise your head to see what he’s looking at.

A silver USB lies in his hand and your eyebrows knit together when you look at the make. S.H.I.E.L.D. made. When he catches you staring, however, he shoves it back into your pocket. A silent question that he ignores lays within your eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave the hospital so soon, but consultation couldn’t wait on the pumping problem,” you continue, diving into the water surrounding the building as your suit readjusts the air pressure and you turn on your headlamps. The water before you filters out the moon as you dive deeper.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to check up with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m heading underwater and the slightest malfunction of the suit could kill me?” you ask, initiating the lights in your repulsors. Steve lets out a sigh of a laugh quietly on the other end as you squint, making out the shape of the pipelines.

“You made that suit, Y/N. I know it won’t,” he replies, but he sounds tense and you make yourself redirect the conversation. Your HUD emits a gentle light as it does a preliminary scan on the pipelines.

“Thanks, Steve. So… where are you now? I mean, now that you’re on the run.”

“That’s what I’ve got to talk to you about.”

Pulling up, you frown. No leaks and the Stark Industry sustainable filter is running flawlessly. You’d installed it yourself, along with the other convertors along the lines. Turning off your mic, you raise your arm.

“A.N.A., can you run a scan? Sitwell said it was in this area, and I’m not sure if I’m being delusional.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” The repulsor gauntlet shoots out a grid of blue light, a bar of blue scanning the pipes as you work your way down the whole area. Resuming your call with Steve, you clear your throat.

“Sorry, Steve, what is it? Is it about why you gave Rumlow the black eye he deserves?” you joke.

“Y/N, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised.” Your heart stops. Maybe you are delusional.

“What?”

“Whatever you do, don’t take another assignment from them. You need to leave D.C. now.”

“Steve, I—”

“There is an unknown object approaching your vector.” A.N.A.’s warning interrupts whatever you were going to say, and kick starts your wired brain. You twist around, all sources of light shutting off at once with a quiet whir. Letting yourself sink, you steady your breathing and turn on your night vision just as something explodes right next to you. It sends you tumbling, your head rattling in your suit as you spin in the water, trying to regain your sense of up and down.

“A.N.A., find the source!” Managing to stabilize yourself to a stop, you shake your head. Something’s trickling down your temple, and there’s a familiar ache in your arm that was closest to the blast. You still can’t hear well aside from the ringing and you strain to hear.

“Already on it.”

Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve asks but his voice crackles over the line and you wince, trying to ignore how grating it is on your ears as blue shapes are highlighted on your HUD. Submarines by the looks of it. S.H.I.E.L.D. warships armed with missiles, mines, and torpedos.

Fuck, really? In the Potomac? You have no time for questions like that, though, and with every second you waste sinking to the bottom, it’s another second feeling like the water’s going to seep into your suit and asphyxiate you. Another missile launches towards you and you swerve out of the way, letting it land in the riverbed.

“I was in Washington for a consultation on the Triskelion’s pump system,” you whisper. “Fucking great that they’re compromised now, huh?”

“Engaging boosters.” Your ankles lock together, you press your hands against your sides and look up as you propel yourself to the surface. You’re a great white beacon of light and heat now that you’ve given up all hope of defeating war subs in your mechanic armor. “Missiles fired. They’ve tracked your infrared signature, ma’am.”

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice cracks the comms again as moonbeams begin to break through. “What’s going?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. subs are on me. Five. Shit!” A missile strikes your foot and you let out a yelp as the booster fails. Veering off, you try to get back on course. “Targeting system. They know all the weak points of this suit. Fuck! My booster’s down.” Swerving out of the way of another swarm of missiles, you run diagnostics on your failed repulsor node just as A.N.A. gives out another warning that another barrage is incoming. Your heart beats in your throat, blood dripping over and down your neck, and you try to unscramble your thoughts. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. Holy shit.

Tony’s going to be so pissed.

“Can you fire back?”

“It’s my repair suit. It’s not meant for battle. I didn’t think I’d get attacked by fucking S.H.I.E.L.D.!” The second barrage nearly gets you and you let out a breath of relief when they all whiz past, only for a bigger cruise missile to slam into your side. Infrared tech on a cruise missile with diamond nibs. These are war-grade, way above anyone’s pay-grade and slice through your suit like it’s soft cheese. It digs into you and you let out a terrified gasp.

It’s a small explosion, granted, but it no doubt shatters your ribs and blows something apart inside you. Ears ringing, you scream over the sound of A.N.A. giving you a status report on the suit, but over your own hoarse voice, you know that water’s surging into your suit, your ribs are shattered, and you’re probably going to die. A.N.A. quarantines the water, sealing you from the neck up as you frantically touch your wound. Your A.I. has already dispatched the emergency lock, your second skin of armor spanning over your abdomen and binding your insides together.

“Injuries?”

“Shattered ribs, multiple third-degree burns and massive internal damage.”

“Communications?” you wheeze, trying to breathe but your lungs struggle against the ribs that float around in your chest cavity as you clutch at the wound. A.N.A. had been as fast as she could, closing over the wound as soon as she detected it, but dirty, freezing river water still got in. It laps at your wounds, soothing the burns and washing through your insides simultaneously. Melting from the inside out, you suck in your scream and blink, trying to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you pray for the adrenaline to kick in.

“Offline. They’ve scrambled the frequency.”

“Unscramble it! We need to tell Steve he needs to get out of here and tell Tony what’s happening. I’ll focus on the staying alive part.” Although sobs tear at your throat and blackness dots your vision from the pain, you squint through your tears to look at the HUD. A list of systems that are offline continue to scroll down the side as the water begins to pick up, pulling and pushing you in all directions.

“Y-Y-Y/N? Can you read me? Hey!”

“Still alive, yet, Cap,” you manage to say, redirecting all energy to your one working foot. “Come on, come on.” Every movement is sending agony rushing down to your chest and it’s like the water pressure presses down into your chest. Even breathing is getting difficult as a knot forms between your lungs. Heaving for air, you begin to speed up to the surface. Water streams down the sides, bubbles popping and foam disappearing before your eyes. Suddenly, beeping begins out of left-field.

“They’re sending more cruise missiles, ma’am. Without your other repulsor node, you won’t be able to outfly them.”

“But I’m so fucking close!”

“It won’t matter, Ms. Stark. They’ve locked into your heat signature and this suit does not have the capability to lower or mask your in-suit heat output.” A.N.A.’s words make you blink and you let out a desperate sigh, your breathing coming ragged as the water closes in on you. Your vision blurs, and for a moment, your head dips forward before you snap open your eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stark.” Your A.I. sounds so fucking crushed and she’s already grieving and you regret coding in emotions because you want to cry, and not because of the pain.

“It’s not your fault, A.N.A.”

Blinking, you try to calm yourself down but it’s all coming so close. Your helmet can’t protect you for long, you’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

“You’ll send a message to Tony? The message?” you ask and the world stops. The startling realization that you might truly die here in the Potomac slams into you and you nearly let out a scream at how fucking unfair it is. Ribbons of tears track down your face, and you compress yourself into a compact slip of armor, hoping it’ll give you that chance to outrun it, but you know that it won’t. You graduated from MIT, just like Tony. Your big brother Tony. You know the math. The beeping gets louder, gets faster.

A watery smile appears on your face, your lips trembling as it crumbles away and you openly sob. Your face is hot and you breathe in hot air, and you need to breathe. Oh, god, you’re gonna die of asphyxiation before you die of your injuries and everything’s closing in on you—

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” You take comfort in A.N.A.s voice and confirmation, trying to pull what’s left of you together.  “Thank you.” It’s just within reach, but the beeping in your ears tells you the missiles are closer. They’re hot on your trail and your faulty booster has no intention of coming back soon. Remembering your call, you swallow whatever tears you have left and ignore the ache in your throat. Everything hurts, but nothing so much as the pain one can get from knowing what they’re leaving behind. “Steve?” 

Crackling, and then a thick voice comes on and you know he’s crying too, “I’m here.”

Your eyes reflect the moon’s beams, and you can only see that beautiful full moon surrounded by so much darkness, and you wonder if this is what Tony saw up in that wormhole. The light at the end of a tunnel. You swallow, nod, and tell yourself that you can’t feel the pain anymore. The adrenaline in my body’s numbing it, you reason to yourself. I’ll die from my injuries before I can get to a hospital, so there’s no point in feeling it. The beeping becomes insistent, but you don’t look back. If you don’t look back, maybe they aren’t there.

“Ms. Stark…”

“It’s okay, A.N.A. You did your best.” Clenching your jaw, you try to make sure your next words can be made out. They need to count, you need him to hear you loud and clear, and he seems to sense this because he begins to whisper these nothings meant to make you feel better, or to stall you. You hope it’s to make to feel better. 

Because it works.

“Steve, when I die, tell Tony that… that I love him, and he deserves so many things in this world. Tell him, tell him he is the best brother I could’ve asked for, and—“

“Hey, Y/N. You’re gonna outfly those rockets. You’re the best damn pilot I know. So, stop talking like you’re gonna die.”

“Steve—“

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. It’ll be okay, doll, you’re gonna be just fine, and then you’ll come over to Sam’s, and we’ll be on the run together.” Steve’s voice cracks and it damn well near breaks you as the A.N.A. goes radio silent. The HUD turns off. She’s conserving energy. That can only mean one thing. “Won’t that be fun? Huh? We’ll be… what was it that was trending after the 2012 gala? That hashtag…”

You let out a noise that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh as your eyes close. “#Ironcaptain and #Starogers were both trending,” you remind him. His voice is soft and hoarse, and exactly how you imagined him in the mornings. You’ll never get to fucking see him again. Fuck. Life. Fuck. You.

“That’s right, doll. You’re right. You’re so beautiful and smart. You’re tough as, uh, iron, and you’re always right.”

“Dork.”

“Yeah, I’m your dork, though. So, you’ve gotta make it. You’re perfect. That’s why you’ll make it, okay?” He’s in so much denial it pains you to the core and all you want to do is grab him in a hug and tell him that you’re going to die but it’ll be okay. But he’s on the other side of the city and he can’t save you this time. “That’s why I’m gonna see you again, and I’m gonna tell you so many things. So you’ve got to stay alive, alright? ‘Cause I needa tell you all about Camp Lehigh and Bucky and you’re supposed to be here with me ‘cause you’re one of my best friends and I need you, okay? It’s been like that since the beginning, Y/N. Before everything, before that gala, before we were friends. I was always the puppy trailing after you. So you can’t die.”

“Steve,” you choke out as you open your eyes again. You reach your uninjured arm for the surface. Your fingers are barely brushing the air and you can imagine the wind on your face. You might make it. “Steve, I’m scared to die.”

“You’re not gonna die, so there’s nothing to be scared of,” he tells you like it's a fact and not something that’s stopping you from turning off every repulsor node you have left. You’re so tired but your arm breaks free, and then your suit and then you’re soaring through the sky.

Flying through the air, you hear the whistle of wind and missile trail after you. You made it to the surface and for what? Here you’ll be, shot down like game anyway. Is that all live is? A game of hope and lies and deceit, just for some god out there?

If it is, when you die, you’ll tell them that you were never playing. You’ll tell whatever god who’s watching to go fuck themselves. Find someone else to play with.

“Steve,” you whisper, because you need to say it as many times as you can before you can’t anymore. “Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“I’m here. I’m right here waiting for you.”

You laugh into your next words, cheeks soaking with tears as you raise your eyes to the moon. “I’m glad that it’s you.” 

The missiles dig into your armor — legs, chest, arms in that order — and explode. You are a dying star, the last brilliant flash of light and beauty and the magnificence of the universe before you are extinguished. 

On the other side of Washington, Steve watches the orange cloud of fire and smoke consume the air around it hungrily as a lone figure drops into the water.

.

“Zola’s algorithm… is a program for choosing I.N.S.I.G.H.T.’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city.” Sitwell swallows visibly and Steve’s nails dig into his palms as he stares at the pathetic man. “Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future. It’s why we killed Y/N Stark.” Blood drips down Steve’s fingers as he grabs Sitwell’s collar, hauling him to his feet.

“What did you say?”

“We… it was a confirmed hit.” Sitwell’s confession rings in Steve’s ears and he lifts him up higher, wanting him to choke.

“You say her name one more time, no one’s gonna stop you when you’re thrown off the building.” He lets the man drop to a pile on the ground. The blood from his palms mark where he’d grabbed the traitor and Steve resists the urge to kick him. Instead, he asks how Zola’s algorithm can predict the future whilst thinking of every way imaginable on how he can destroy H.Y.D.R.A., one agent at a time.

.

“Y/N wouldn’t want some priest,” Steve says, playing with Sam’s cellphone. He’d given it to him after what happened in Washington, but Steve’s never grabbed the strength to play the voicemail sent to the number not long after your last call together. The anger he had has sapped away until all that’s left is the space you used to fill with your laugh and smile. He never even got to tell you how he felt about you— “Maybe something quiet. Her stuff burned, something like that.”

“How the hell would you know what she wanted?” Tony whispers. His rage is simmering so close to the surface, so close to his breaking point, that Steve looks up. They’re gathered in the Avengers Tower, all of them for once, and Tony slams his hand on the table, head bowed. 

“Tony,” Bruce begins but he ignores him, pushing off the table and walking back towards the window of the penthouse, staring off to the skyline. “I’m sorry. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve told her not to go.”

“You couldn’t have known S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised,” Natasha adds, although her eyes are red rimmed and there’s something croaky in her voice. Steve’s heard her cry. He knows. “None of us knew.” Tony whips around.

“You were supposed to protect her!” His words make Steve flinch more than the volume he screams it at. Steve’s blood rushes to his head in his shame, and a familiar bruise blooms in his throat. “I trusted you. You promised me you’d protect her.”

“I promised I’d try, Tony,” he whispers. “And I couldn’t. Neither could you. If you were in my position, you wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve, with my suit. I could have saved her if I was in your position, because I would have had the suit!” Tipping over a wine glass and letting it smash to the floor, all but Tony flinch when he walks over the shards of broken glass. “You don’t have any idea what I could’ve done.” 

Steve falls silent. He turns on the phone screen, turns it off again, and flips it over to feel the edges where the screen protector has cracked.

“Tony,” Thor begins, speaking for the first time since he’s arrived. His dark blue eyes are storms on seas and the air around him blurs with energy. The air tastes like lightning. “Look at me.”

“I could’ve saved her,” Tony repeats.

“Look at me.” Dark eyes meet storm blue. “You could not have gone across the city, bring her out of the water, and take her to a hospital alive. Even if you did find her, she would have bled out or succumbed to her injuries.” His voice lowers as Tony’s head drops forward, tears racing down his nose and cheeks. “We all saw the suit.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Tony whispers. He jolts himself out of Thor’s grasp and walks back to the window. “She could’ve made it out. Someone could’ve saved her.”

“Tony,” Natasha calls softly, “we need to—“

“‘We’,” the man repeats incredulously. He gives them all a sneer. Tony’s bitter smile could make hell freeze over and Steve pockets the phone, standing. “I’m sorry, there’s a ‘we’ in this situation? Who’s her brother here?”

“Tony, that isn’t fair—”

“There is no ‘we’. You all think she’s dead, but we never got a body. That’s what isn’t fair about this. You’re supposed to be her friends, her family, and you’ve just given up on her! She could still be out there. She could still be kicking and you’ve all given up on her!” Swiping a hand out to the window, he stares at them, waiting for them to agree. When they don’t, his head bows as his hands ball into fists. With a sigh, all the strength leaves him and Tony’s shoulders slump. When he looks up again, his eyes are shining wet, dark earth after a storm.

“Tony,” Steve says his name faintly, then clears his throat. Standing up, he waits for the response and gets none. He begins his way to the man who personifies all stages of grief. His throat bruised from holding in tears, he just calls his name again until Tony looks at him. “We got the suit.” Tony’s entire body crumples and he leans against the bar, eyes narrowing on the marble swirls. “She may have been your sister, but she wasn’t invincible.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s dead!” Steve sees the swing before it makes contact and he ducks underneath, bringing Tony into a crushing hug. “She’s not dead. She’s my baby sister, she’s not dead.” Steve doesn’t say anything, but the man seems to wilt in his arms as another hand touches his shoulder. Bruce sends a tight-lipped smile before slipping between the two and hugging Tony tight. The blond pulls away.

“Thor, get the suit,” Steve whispers, turning to the god. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, nodding and uncrossing his arms to go retrieve the cargo they’d received a week ago. Maria Hill had it delivered in an unsuspecting box outside of Stark Towers, with a touch ID that only Tony Stark could bypass. Inside, the melted, burnt, broken remains of what is left of your mechanic suit. Half a gauntlet, blasted metal, shrapnel and bloodstains. That’s all they have left of you.

Tony takes out your helmet. There are ashy streaks where the explosion had damaged the metal, and there’s a huge crack up the left side of the mask until where the eye used to be. A hole is punched through, the wires poking out, and blood where something had dragged over your mask.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., connect A.N.A. to the servers.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” A new voice echoes throughout the penthouse, a subdued female who sounds like she’s seen better days. Steve catches Tony’s weakening smile. “Is there anything you need?”

“You have the recording for… for her last day?” Bruce asks quietly.

“Mr. Stark?” A.N.A. seems to wait on Tony for confirmation and he nods.

“Go.”

The helmet lights up and Tony places it on the bar counter before heading down to the couch with the rest of them. Natasha rubs his arm, leaning on her other elbow and hiding her mouth behind a tight fist. Thor closes his eyes, listening as intently as he can. Bruce paces back and forth and Steve just waits on Tony.

When they reach your agony, your screams, your relentless sobbing for death as you sink into the Potomac, Tony tells A.N.A. to turn it off. There’ll be two funerals, they decide. The public memorial and one just for them.

.

“You dealt with my sister’s potty mouth and you yell at me about language?” Tony asks over the comms. Steve groans on the other end, and he’s surprised by how easily he can mention you. It doesn’t hurt as much. “I literally can’t get over it.”

“It just slipped out, Tony,” he replies.

“Well, I bumped into a forcefield, so I had a reason.” Tony’s senses are on high alert. The Enhanced is MIA and his eyes scan the area. 

“Keep your eyes on the prize, Tony. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can head home and debate about it.”

Tony pushes on the secret door, letting out a silent ‘yay’ when it gives, sliding into motion.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage.”

Walking down the staircase, Tony’s nerves shoot. Something about this place seems off. The staircase expands as he gets to the end, leading through a dark hallway lit by the occasional lamp that looks like it hasn’t had its oil changed since the 80’s. Grimacing, Tony continues on his way. It’s enough light to let him see ahead and if he needs the suit, it’s just seconds away. The hallway opens up to reveal a huge underground laboratory, and Tony’s eyes widen, gaze drifting up as he takes in the magnitude of this room. It’s a huge construct, with metal catwalks and staircases. A Leviathan is hoisted in the air by wires and he blinks.

“Guys, I got Strucker.”

“Yeah, I’ve got… something bigger.” There are benches full of forgotten projects or ones half-done. An Iron Legion robot lays on one of them, illuminated by pale yellow.

Shit. He wants to get out of here and back to the team, but it’s too late now and he has a job to do. His eyes drift over the robot again, seeing if he’d know what they needed it for. Experimentation? Curiosity?

Parts. He can see it in the delicate way it was taken apart, by someone who knows their way around this kind of stuff. This isn’t some ten year old who’d torn it apart for the sake of curiosity. No, this is surgery.

Tearing his eyes away, he turns to look at the triple row of benches under what looks to be operating room lights. Something gold and red glimmers underneath the light but he can’t risk getting unfocused.

The blue glow of Loki’s sceptre reminds him of why he’s here, and he goes to it. Electricity crackles around it, tools and half-made but quality gadgets used to stabilize it. There are monitors reading the levels it’s giving out, fluctuating as Tony steps closer.

“Thor, I got eyes on the prize.”

“Tony?” Turning around at the sound of a voice — the voice, your voice — Tony’s eyes widen as the Leviathan jerks into motion. Letting out a scream, he flinches away, his mind reeling back to that wormhole in 2012. Panic seizes him, his lungs constricting and his heart beating in time with the pulse in his head as he turns to watch it go, flying above the rock steps occupied by some bodies.

Bodies he recognizes.

Bruce’s Hulk body twitches as the last of his fight leaves him. Spears come out and go into him at all angles and he lets out a painful whimper. Natasha’s broken arms and legs stretch and twist in awkward angles as if she’d fallen to her death and every single bone in her is shattered. A pool of blood spreads beneath her head and her eyes stare sightlessly at him. The rock ledge is slick with red, flowing down in a tiny trickle towards Clint. For a moment, Tony thinks he’s alive, and he nearly calls out his name.

Then his head dips and lolls, and Tony knows. Thor’s neck is gashed to the bone, but his blood has dried and Tony’s breath catches in his throat. The few things that can kill Thor aren’t even possible on Earth, and Tony takes a step towards him just as his gaze drops. Steve Rogers lays there, bruised and battered with a shield snapped in half.

Half of him knows this is a vision but the other half is trying to rationalize it. Whatever is messing with his head: transmittable by air, powerful enough to warp his reality, and potent enough to capitalize on pre-existing emotions. Tony jots all this down in his mind as he desperately tries to pull himself out.

Not real, not real, not—

“You could have saved us.”

“Ant? Is it really you?” Spinning around, he comes face to face with you. You look more than a little worse for wear, and he touches your face, unbelieving. Searching your face, he just sighs and kisses your forehead. “Tony, oh my god.” Letting out something between a sob and a chuckle, he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. Your hands cup his face and you cry out, hugging him tightly.

“Y/N, you’re okay.” He takes hold of you by the shoulders, taking in your features as his fingers brush over your cheekbones. 

“Hey, Tony,” you whisper. The skin peels away underneath your eye in the shape of the crack of your mask as he touches your face, peeling like wet tissue and he lets out a shout, pushing back. The flap of skin continues to fall, tearing away your face and blood flows down the gash as your eye closes. Scarlet tears flow your cheeks. “Tony, it’s me.”

“Y/N, no….” You reach for him still, trying to understand why and Tony can only back away. You’re dressed in tattered clothes, all bloody and burned — the clothes you died in and there’s a gaping hole where your abdomen should be.

“Tony?”

“It isn’t you.” The ugly pulsing burn on your side is black and white, your arm mangled beyond repair. “Stop…”

“Tony, what’s wrong?” You run to him when he trips over the steps of the rocks and you pull him up. Blood runs down your neck, drying dark and thick. Your eye opens again. With a pitch black pupil, only a green synthetic outline stares back at him.

“You’re not real!” Flinging your arms off, he stalks past you and searches for the sceptre. “You’re dead. I buried your empty casket.” He takes in his surroundings, his back to the pile of dead heroes. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’ll make his mind realize it isn’t real. If he finds the sceptre, he’s out of here. It’s the sceptre messing with his mind. That’s it. Find the sceptre.

You stumble after him but he ignores you too. His heart tears in half as he ignores it and tells himself that you’re dead. He forces himself to think of that cloudy day and that empty casket. They buried your suit and your favourite books for you to read in whatever afterlife. It’s been a year. You’re dead. 

A vibrating hum catches his attention and he freezes. Closing his eyes, he tries to hone in on the sound.

“Tony, please! Look at me...” A hand clutches at his shirt and he whips around, prepares to scream for his mind to shut up. The words die before he can speak. There the sceptre is, with the monitors and stabilizers and everything. No dead bodies, no blood on his hands. But the hand is still there. A sobbing pile is at his feet and a pale hand grasps his shirt, and his breath catches when the sobbing pile cries out his name. His stomach twisted, bile crawls up his throat when he sinks to his knees, collapsing before it. His hands shake and he feels his heart steadily climb towards the spectrum of beating so fast he isn’t sure he has a heart anymore. His blood mutes his frantic thoughts, and he, lightheaded and dizzy, pulls the hands off of him. They’re shaking but he isn’t sure if it’s him or… or you.

“Tony, please look at me. Tony? Tony, it’s not a vision, right? I’m, I’m not seeing things, again? Tony?” Your voice under your breath mutters these heartbreaking things that Tony lets out a breathless laugh of pain, and he tilts your chin up to see you. It can’t be you. You, with the exploded armour and bloodstains. You, who’d died by S.H.I.E.L.D. It can’t be you. A shaky hand reaches for your chin, and he feels the hot tears dripping off your skin as he angles your head to the light. Your eyes are wide and sunken compared to the rest of your face and your lips are dried and cracked. Your hands are calloused, dirty, your fingernails chipped, your skin raw and red and blistering. It can’t be you.

But it is.

“Yeah, Y/N, it’s me.” Your eyes widen and you stare at him as if you’ve just noticed him for the first time, and you let out a loud sob, covering your hand with your mouth as he lunges into you, holding you as tight as he can. You’re so real and warm and you’re hugging him back even harder if that’s even possible as he sniffs back his tears.

If this is a dream, Tony doesn’t want to wake up.

“Tony? Tony, you found me. I told them you would, but obviously they ignored it, because you’d never stop until you did.” Tony’s heart races back to the other end of the spectrum. The not-beating side. The side riddled with guilt and grief and pain that he thought he’d moved past but here, in your earnest view, it all comes rushing back. “They, they kept me here to work on the staff, but… you found me.” You bury your face in his neck and he kisses the spot before your ear, looking at the staff with wet eyes. Blinking, he lets the tears that fall, fall freely. “I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice. It’s been so long. Tony.”

You break down into tears as you melt into his arms, slouching all over him. He holds you up in his embrace and your knees drag over the floor as you wrap your legs around him. He pulls back and sits on his bottom, holding you in his lap like he did when you were a kid after a nightmare. You latch onto him like a koala, and he sighs, eyes closing.

“I’ve got you, sis.” Running a hand over your hair, he realizes with a pang how thin you are. You’re all bones and not a lot of meat, and your spindly fingers are grasping onto him so hard that it hurts. But pain’s good. Means it’s more likely to be real. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you outta here. I’ve got you.”

The comm links are active as Tony buries his face in your greasy hair. You smell awful, but underneath it, you smell like you. 

“Guys, we’ve got a plus one.”

.

“Hold my hand, Steve.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He nods, as if expecting your answer and you sit across from him. Reaching over, the man holds your hand across the conference room table. Tony situates himself in the corner, and you already know what’s coming. You just need to gauge Steve’s reaction when it’s presented. 

As images of every global instance of destruction flickers across the screen, you feel something within you twist harder. Washington, D.C. Steve’s grip intensifies, nearly crushing your hand until you give him a gentle squeeze in reminder.

You open the first page of the Sokovia Accords. His thumb traces soothing circles over your skin while you flip through the pages. Your cybernetic eye scans each one, gleaning the important info for you to review later before you hand it off. 

Since your return to civilization, you’ve updated and replaced the tech H.Y.D.R.A. used to keep you alive and functioning with improvements that are far more befitting of you. For one thing, your cybernetic eye they used to replace the one they gouged out has a link to the earpiece, allowing you near 24/7 access to A.N.A. For another, you’ve improved mesh camouflage. After all, the scarring around your metal abdomen is kinda unsightly for undercover operations. 

Still, this isn’t how you wanted to go back into the Avengers. After Tony’s BARF showcase at MIT and the announcement of the September Foundation Grant, you had felt the shift in Tony’s energy. From generous and giving, to guilty and heartbroken, you knew something had happened when he went to the bathroom. Still, he probably didn’t want to talk about it.

So you took the jet back to New York for an emergency Security Council meeting with Secretary Thaddeus Ross. 

Tony watches as you hand the Accords to Steve. Sam refuses to look at it, and Steve only lifts the cover to humour you. You know him. 

When Secretary Ross leaves, the rest of the Avengers follow suit soon after, but not before your brother kisses your hair and rubs your head. They all head out to see the Secretary off and then meet in one of the many lounges in the facility. All of them except Steve.

Steve pulls his hand back to open the thick book, and you swivel the chair to face him fully. He reads the first page and you watch as his expression tightens, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed.

“Steve,” you whisper and he looks up at you. Instantly, everything relaxes. His shoulders slide down and he even manages a small smile.

“I don’t like it so far,” he tells you. “Sacrificing our right to choose is too dangerous.” He lifts the Accords half way, scans the pages, and then lets it drop again. He rubs his hand over his face, looking older and tired.

“Well, we can set up safeguards, can’t we? Once all the publicity dies down.” You reach for his hand, and he takes hold of it again. The warmth of him soothes your nerves and he instantly begins rubbing your knuckles. Habit, you suppose.

“But what if this panel doesn’t send us where we need to go? What if they send us where we aren’t needed? Y/N, we can’t be run by some panel who doesn’t even know us.”

“I know. You know I know what happens when corruption begins to spread. I’m sure we’ll be able to have some say over this.”

“Agendas change.”

“And what if our agendas change, too?” you ask quietly. Steve’s head snaps up and you lean forward, squeezing his palm. “I’m not saying you or Tony. I know you try your best. I’m saying when we’re all gone, what happens if the Avengers are run by people who don’t have the same ideals?”

“That’s a far off possibility.”

“But it’s still a possibility.” You stand, smoothing your hands over your pants and adjusting your vest. You realize somewhere that you’re dressed exactly like your brother, but you ignore it. The two of you can’t help but be fashion icons. Walking around the table, you sit on the surface next to his hand. “I don’t like it either, so I’m not going to sign.” Not yet. “But, Tony wants to. So we’re gonna have to talk it over with the team.”

Steve leans back into his chair to look at you. “I can’t sign this, Y/N.”

“I know.” You pull him up to his feet and smile as he brushes hair away from your face. “I know, baby.” You pull him into a hug and he sighs, nuzzling into your neck. Pulling back, he sighs again and brushes his thumb over your lips as his gaze searches your face. He takes you in like he’ll never see you beside him again and you do the same, just trying to burn his face into your memory. 

“These Accords might ruin us.”

“Not if you don’t let it.”

“Tony wants to sign.” Steve lets his head drop and the hands you have on your shoulders press down. Your thumbs dig circles into his muscles.

“Not if we convince him not to.” You send him a smile and he cups your face. “We’re really lucky, Steve. Really lucky. We got a second chance. This past year has been hell for the both of us, but we got our chance.”

“At what cost is it to keep us together? I can’t just pretend I agree with this. If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t just ignore it.”

“I know, baby. Tony knows it too.” Your hands run down his chest and your fingers tangle together. “This is our family. Just, remember that.”

“I know.” Leaning over, he kisses your cheek, although you yearn for it somewhere else, and pulls away to go to the lounge with the Accords. You sit there on the table, alone, watching him go, with that feeling in your heart just like the one in 2012.

Just like the one in Washington.

.

“Take one more step, and I’ll be sending your brains to Wilson.”

Steve freezes. The words, tossed so poisonously against his back, make him stop and he swallows through his bruised throat. He doesn’t want to look at you. He can’t look at you after what he’d done. Rhodey shattered, Tony somewhere trying to fix the mess he made. But he couldn’t regret choosing Bucky. Still, he just wanted to make sure you were okay but you’d woken up and grabbed your gun as quick as you could, standing despite the ringing that must’ve been going on in your head.

“You don’t walk away when I’m talking to you, Captain.” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Without the shield, he almost feels naked under your piercing glare. He knows that if looks could kill, it wouldn’t have mattered if he had vibranium between you two. “You know what you mean to me.” The gun cocks and he hears the safety switch off. Your finger rests over the trigger.

“Secretary Ross charged me with finding you. Tony asked me to bring you in peacefully,” you whispers. Your unsaid words hang in the air instead. Not more than Bucky. Never more than Bucky. Bucky who killed my parents.

Bucky who didn’t know what he was doing.

But he killed them.

And Steve knew.

After Secretary Ross assigned you with bringing back the fugitives, you’d refused at first. 

“I don’t work for organizations like yours,” you said.

“Y/N, if you don’t go, we don’t know how many people will get hurt when they get in his way,” Tony said. 

“I’m only going for you,” you said.

You knew Steve wouldn’t let his team rot on the Raft for so long. It was only a matter of time before he came to rescue them, and that was where you came in. You know his mind, and it almost kills you, knowing that in every circumstance, he would’ve always chosen Bucky over you. 

Steve was always the better hand-to-hand combatant between the two of you, but Natasha had taught you some new moves before she’d gone and disappeared without a trace, too. You had him pinned underneath you, and a part of you knows that he’d only let you win because he didn’t want to hurt you. Before, it used to be funny. You used to spar, and you’d pin him down, or he’d scoop you up in a hug. Before, it used to be fun and flirty, and you two would make smoothies after. At least, before everything that had happened.

No such kindness is in you now.

It wasn’t in Sam either. The man had knocked you out with a fire extinguisher, leading to their escape.

Until now.

Steve had dragged you to the little skipper he’d used to sneak onto the Raft, scared out of his mind for the concussion you now sported. But it didn’t matter. Despite the dots nearly blacking out your vision, you know if you pull, it’d hit Steve and come out between the eyes.

“Rhodey’s paralyzed,” you grit out, your jaw clenched so hard you’re sure your teeth will break, “because of you. How could you do this to him? To Tony? Especially after what happened last year? Tony… Tony’s heartbroken. You know that? He’s heartbroken.”

So are you. Steve knows how to read between your lines, even if some of ‘em are metal instead of flesh.

“Then, are you gonna do it?” Steve asks quietly. Golden light streams into the dark room, illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his hair, and you wonder if everyone else is asleep. That’s the only reason you can think of that’ll make him see you now. He’s always held these secrets. It’s a fucking shame you’re one of them.

It’s a fucking shame he hid the most important one from you. It almost makes you wonder if he ever felt anything for you at all. Life has been shitting on you.

Squinting your eyes, you try to ignore the blossoming pain in your head as you shake your thoughts away. He doesn’t even look at you. Coward.

“I want to,” you tell him, finger just barely pushing the trigger. You know how much pressure it takes to fire a gun “I really, really want to.” You half-laugh, half-cry, because of the pain in your heart and head. Who’s the coward now? “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know.” Steve turns to you then, his normally-bright blue eyes hooded by the shadows of the rocking ship. You put the gun down, and it’s almost as if all the strength leaves you then, too. “I never wanted you to pick between Tony and I.”

“Why, because I’d pick Tony?” You sit back down on your bed again, and Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. Walking over, he angles his head to the spot beside you and you nod, reaching over to turn on the lamp. “Well, you’d pick Bucky so, I guess it’s even.”

“Y/N,” he begins but you hold up a hand as your eyes close. 

“Save it, Rogers. It doesn’t matter.” Your teeth clench together and the muscles in your jaw twitches as your eyebrows push down. All you’re trying to do is not cry at the thought of leaving him here on this ship. Taking a shaky breath, you blow it out as Steve puts a hand on yours. Your fingers slot together and you lean towards him until your head is on your shoulder. He tilts his head to press his cheek into your hair and your fingers play together as your other hand brushes over his calloused skin, broken along his knuckles where he’d punch your brother. “None of it matters.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Something wet slides into your hair and you feel it drip down your skin. Placing your hand atop his, you swallow and tell yourself to get it together.

“The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you,” you tell him because there might never be a chance to tell him again. “Your best friend killed my parents. You beat up my brother and he’s back in New York, bruised and battered and heartbroken, and I’m here.” You raise your head and he turns to look at you. Searching his eyes, you find nothing but grief. He pulls away his hand. “I’m here, instead of there with him.” You laugh because it’s all so stupid and ridiculous. “I’m really here, fraternizing with the enemy.”

This is never how you imagined you would tell Steve you loved him. Never. The first time you tell him you love him is the day it’s over. Fucking poetic, isn’t it. 

“I’m fraternizing with the enemy,” you repeat. Steve’s your enemy. Steve. Your stupid dork is now the enemy of 117 countries and you. The realization slams into you like things you can’t name. Your eyes flicker close and a few tears slip out but you manage to suck the rest in. Steve lets out an exhausted sigh and it feels like you’re both bone-tired this days.

“Y/N, I never wanted this for you. I just wanted to keep you safe.” His hand rises up to touch your face but then he seems to think better of it and lets it drop again. You miss the warm, rough feel of him already and he’s not even gone yet. “If the U.N. did what H.Y.D.R.A. did—”

“I know. I…” You sigh, looking down at the slight space between the two of you. How easy it would be to close it if it were a different time. “It was never a choice between you and Tony. It was a choice between Tony and what I believed in, and I believe in you, Steve. I believe that organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D., like the World Security Council, like some U.N. security panel, can’t be trusted.”

“Then, why? You know what organizations can do. You know that agendas change.”

“We’ve already lost so much. We’ve had too many casualties.” You cup his face, smile bitterly, try to make a joke out of it that you know won’t land. “I was one of them.”

“You can’t say that,” Steve says, turning his face away and you swallow the knot in your throat. 

“Why not? It’s true.” The most horrible thing you’ve ever seen lays within Steve’s eyes in that moment but you move on. “The Accords are still gonna pass whether you’re there or not. It’s a matter of safety, now,” you whisper and his gaze darts to you. His eyes ask a silent question and you dread the answer. “I’m gonna sign. I need to do my job, Steve, even if it means working for some higher power. There’s no other way.”

“So you’ve picked a side.” The distance between you is immeasurably wide, and you wonder how such a huge distance can be fit in such a tiny space.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’ve picked a side.” Steve’s face twitches and you take in his sculpted lips and cheeks, his blue eyes that reflect the lamplight and warm golden hair. “Steve, all that matters is we know what we are.” 2012 feels so long ago but it makes you feel younger when Steve tries to smile. Then, he looks down and you have a feeling he can’t even look at you.

At first, you think it’s because you disgust him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought such a thing, but then you realize. He’s terrified of watching you fall out of love with him.

How much you want to tell him that it isn’t possible. But you don’t. You can’t say a thing.

“But you’ve chosen a side,” he replies quietly, almost accusatory if you didn’t know him better. You close your eyes for a moment at his words, and then you turn away. The light is blinding in the hallway, but it’s better than looking at the heartache in Steve’s face. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stand and take the gun.

“You chose yours first.”

Tags: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala​ @dulharpa

[writinginstardust]

Do Anything | Part 4

Pairing: Tyler Jones x reader

Warnings: some violence

A/N: Last part guys. You ready for the happy (ish) ending? I have a real weak spot for angsty reunions and kisses and confessions fuelled by almost losing the person you love so I hope to god I managed to do that justice here. Need to thank @writingbychelle for all the help and motivation she gave me while writing this fic. I wrote most of part 2 as well as all of part 3 and 4 in one day and I don’t think I could have managed pretty much any of it without her x

Word Count: 1653

*

I knew Tyler meant for me to go to the control deck where Cat and Fin were probably waiting but I couldn’t just leave him. I did do as he asked and stayed on the ship though, hovering by the airlock door and watching everything unfold. It felt so wrong not to go and help but I was in no condition to be anything but a hindrance right now. We’d all seen just how little use I’d be already. So I watched. Heart hammering as things got messy and the squad put their lives in danger yet again.

Auri was a sight to behold. She’d clearly been training a lot in the last month or so and was in total control of her frightening level of power. That would be why everyone had seemed so quietly confident. With Auri doing what she was, we really could get out of this alive. All of us this time.

As I watched, she turned 20 agents - TDF and GIA alike - into little more than piles of mush, barely pausing before pulling the weapons of half the force from their hands and turning them on their former owners. The disruptor fire that followed was deafening, the TDF and the squad firing on each other at once. After throwing a few more swaths of troops backwards, Auri made a run for it and it was honestly frightening.

Her eye was still glowing as she directed her power to do something, what I couldn’t tell though, and raced towards me, face like a raging storm. I almost pitied the agents that had come up against her. Almost. But not really. They could all rot in hell.

The ship came alive beneath me as Auri reached the airlock and collapsed on the ground beside me, quickly turning to face the opening again. It was only then that I realised what she was doing as her power slipped away from her trip. She was holding back the disruptor blasts and keeping the ships grounded. All of them at once. Great Maker she was strong.

Tyler, Scarlett, Zila, and Kal piled into the airlock and Cat took off, not waiting to get it closed much like last time. It closed automatically at a certain altitude anyway. It slid shut and the decompression cycle ran. The moment it was done and the inner door slid open, Kal took off running with Auri in his arms, Tyler and Zila not far behind.

Scarlett helped me to my feet and threw my arm over her shoulder, half dragging me as we ran through the halls to the control deck. The chaos continued, more of an organised chaos this time though. Auri was situated at an auxiliary station, staring intently out of the window, eye still glowing fiercely. Was she ever going to run out of power? Tyler was helping Cat maneuver through the mass of ships firing on us, all the while frantically punching coordinates into the Nav systems. Kal and Zila were trying to return fire and actually hit something.

I slumped into the chair beside Auri that Scarlett led me over to. She helped me buckle up as I tried to figure out what it was Auri was doing now. My answer came soon enough when the battle cruiser I’d been captive on for the past month was torn in half. I gaped as Scarlett moved on and strapped Auri in too before heading to her own seat, I could kiss her right now. Now I’d never have to see that place again. Part of me wished that I could have destroyed it myself somehow but what mattered was that it was gone and with it, just about everyone who had hurt me.

“Everyone in?” Tyler asked, voice strained. A chorus of affirmations. “Cat, Auri, you ready?” They both nodded. “Alright. Punch it!”

The ship rocketed forward and I was pressed back into my seat. This ship had never moved so quickly, no ship I’d ever heard of had. I looked over to Auri. Her teeth were gritted, nails digging into the arms of her seat, blood trickling from her nose. She was doing this. And from the looks of it, she was also ripping apart half the ships around us.

We raced to the nearest foldgate. I knew this area. It should have taken at least 5 minutes. It didn’t even take 1.

The girls didn’t let up, Cat helping out by pushing the engines to the limits as we entered the fold. Colour faded away but Auri continued to shine like a beacon as she pushed us forward. My vision started to blur, the g-force becoming too much when added to the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins and the weak state of my body. It all faded away to nothing.

*

I woke up in pain in a bright room on a threadbare mattress. Panic surfaced instinctively. I was back in the cell, they’d come for me any moment. That week long reprieve was over. There was a hand gripping my own tightly and I instinctively jerked away, squeezing my eyes shut again and trying - and failing - to keep my breathing even.

“Shh, (Y/N), it’s okay. You’re okay.” That voice. I knew that voice. My heart started racing for a different reason.

“Tyler?” My voice sounded terrible and weak to my ears but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah. It’s me.” I heard him shift and felt the mattress dip beside me. I hesitantly opened my eyes again, worried that when I did, he wouldn’t really be there. He was. I let out a choked sob and threw myself into his arms, my body screaming in protest. Everything flooded back. Finally leaving the battle cruiser, getting to the spaceport, seeing Tyler, Auri destroying everything, speeding away into the fold. Then it went blank. I had no idea where we were now.

“Is everyone…”

“They’re fine. No one’s hurt.”

“You shouldn’t’ve...Shouldn't have come. You could have been killed.” As I said it, I started crying harder. He’d come for me. He’d come. For me.

“So could you.”

“Tyler-”

“(Y/N). There is nothing in this galaxy or any other that could have stopped me. I will always come for you.”

“You’re an idiot,” I whispered into his shoulder as I held him closer.

“I’m not the one who volunteered to stay behind on an enemy ship.”

“I remember very clearly that you did.” He chuckled a little at that. “I’m glad it wasn’t you. I couldn’t bear it if it was you.”

“It should have been me.” I felt a tear drop onto my neck as his arms tightened around me and I gasped out in pain. He pulled back immediately, concern written in the lines of his face. I pulled him back though, not caring how much it hurt. Not being pressed against him for a second hurt more and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, arms winding back around my waist.

“Don’t be. I’d do it all again if I had to.” His arms tightened again but he didn’t pull away when I hissed out a breath this time.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again. Promise me you won’t.” I hesitated for a moment. “Please.” And his voice was so broken I found myself agreeing.

“I promise.” I just hoped we never had to test that promise. I didn’t want to break it but I wouldn’t hesitate if it kept Tyler safe. I would do anything to keep him safe. “I love you,” I whispered as an afterthought. I suspected he might somehow have known I said it before but I needed him to hear it for sure. And I wanted to do it properly. Now the heat of the moment and the panic of imminent death was gone. Now there was nothing but the two of us, alone in a room on some far-off planet. There was space and time and no adrenaline to diminish the meaning behind the words.

“I love you too,” he replied. Such a simple declaration, but it was everything. The words settled in my heart and spread to every part of me. They changed everything but nothing at all.

He pulled back just enough to lean down and kiss me. It wasn’t the first time but I’d felt all the other kisses through pain and panic. Now though, now there was just him and the warm, steady press of his lips against mine.

I could tell he was holding back, trying not to hurt me, but I didn’t care if he did. I wasn’t going to break. I needed to feel everything. Threading my fingers through his hair, I deepened the kiss and with only a little hesitation he started kissing me with the raw desperation of that first kiss. It was what I needed right now. There would be a time for softness and gentle touches later. And it wasn’t as if I couldn’t feel the love he was pouring into it. It was in every flick of his tongue, every touch of his hands, every beat of his pounding heart. My own actions were filled with it too.

In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t it. We still had the fight of our lives ahead of us, one we didn’t even know for sure we could win, and even if we did, everything it took would haunt us forever and we wouldn’t be the same people by the end of it. We already weren’t. But the end of everything wasn’t going anywhere. It could wait for us. The universe owed us that much. And one day, hopefully, it would owe us so much more. It was only fair we had this for now, I thought. And for once the universe seemed to agree.

*

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Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Aurora Cycle: @aurising