#does this make ANY sense timeline wise??? Absolutely the fuck not

[landfilloftrash]

(balloon boy voice) ʰⁱ

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[ashtxeman]

do you have any wilbur hcs,,,,,,,

of course i do 😇 and honestly if some of these sound familiar to you they are influenced by rp's we've done - He has a mullet. Pre-portal he wanted one but didn't have the time to grow one, so at least having his mind rearranged gave him at least one thing he wanted. - Pre-portal he had a motorcycle and used to drive to work on it, also went on late-night drives on it (usually John would tag along). - Pure black blood but his insides are actually green, but do change colour to a black or red sometimes cause he's an anatomical mess. - ^ Adding to this and something I mentioned in a post before, if you shoot him or give him a wound etc, you'll probably see tentacles. It's a defense mechanism but also helps him heal faster. - Ate red apples pre-portal, then switched to green in post. - Usually has painted nails, either all black or the colours of the Lords. If he's feeling extra wacky he'll do black on one hand and Lord colours on the other. - 0 fashion sense just does whatever the fuck he wants. Wears denim because it's cool and he likes the texture. More on the stupid side but the denim he wears is immune to chafing and also waterproof so it gives him no extra weaknesses (I watched The Denim Warrior recently, can you tell?) - His basic abilities are teleportation and hallucinations but he obviously has better abilities like possession (doesn't take too much energy but it's more of a last resort because he doesn't like being in other people's bodies). His better abilities take up a fuck ton of energy so he rarely uses them (you'll see them most in his fights with Holloway), the most notable ones are summoning tentacles and shapeshifting. - ^ If he had direct aid from Wiggly, he would be able to summon tentacles from within someone. Very painful. - ^ Expansion on shapeshifting. He can't change into like animals and stuff, he's not that good, but think the Other Mother from Coraline. Weird limb stuff. - Probably loves pain more than he should. - Absolutely hates losing, his euphoria seeing John constantly fail at anything he does is immeasurable. - Upon entering the portal, he was subjected to all of his deaths + mental breaks across every timeline. Really fucked him up. - ^ Opposite to this he has watched all of John's deaths + mental breaks and he loves that. - Since the Black and White is so empty, he tends to hallucinate often being stuck with his own thoughts. He'll see figures in the distance of people he knows, or even himself, or he'll hear voices. If he has thoughts he doesn't like, he'll do anything to make them stop, but after a while the Lords tend to get wise to it and put in a counter-measure to prevent him from doing anything. - Jealous freak who absolutely wants John dead and hates his guts but also wants to kill anybody who dares to get romantically involved with him. - He has a Nightmare Time of his own. Only Holloway has seen it. - He resents humanity and everything it is, and by extension hates anything human about himself (I think I expanded on this on the confessions blog but honestly I should do more) - Has a forked tongue. - Wears cunty eyeliner. - Smells like rotting flesh and burnt out candles.

[katyspersonal]

Midra for the ask meme :3

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

Thaaaat guy! God, this makes me sad to think about.. in a good sense. And nostalgic. I want to erase SOTE from my memory just to experience the emotions I first had when I've found Abyssal Woods and this guy.

Favorite thing about them:

He is a NERD! He lives up to his title as 'sage'! His Manse is 90% library and other like 10% is actual living area fhdhds It is SO many books everywhere!

You KNOW that it was not simply a storage. He DID read every single book he had. I don't know, like... every room is full of book shelves and piles of books. It is impressive.

Not only that, but also the whole Manse has the narrative of messing with the Insight not meant for humans (or anyone, for that matter). There were records of forbidden knowledge everywhere, no wonder Inquisitors decided to burn it all down, for everyone's sake!

I love that he is really wise and educated, but ALSO a madman! And a more sympathetic kind of than, say, Micolash! He KNOWS he fucked up, and maybe he hoped he could've made Frenzied Flame work. He and his people suffered from religion-driven oppression long enough. Why would not he turn to the force that can take away "every sin and affliction"? Why not wish to "destroy all that divides and distinguishes"? This is a super good example of 'good intentions road to Hell' thing, and told so well through environment and buildup alone, too! god.

Least favorite thing about them:

This one actually makes me sad... It is hard to explain, but it is how 'limiting' his story is. Or rather, 'self-contained'.

When I first discovered the Woods, his manse and himself, I was ECSTATIC. You all probably remember my reaction, and how I could not shut up about both him and his lore! And Nanaya and his followers! I've had the Elden Ring loredigging of my LIFE. I remember how much emotions and joy of discovery I had like it was yesterday. I was super thrilled to figure out what happened, and wrote this ( x ) post. And then.....

Yeah, you see, it isn't anything new for Soulsborne games to have the player to find a character at the VERY end of their story. They are already dead when we arrive, we just make it official with our battle. However, most of the characters can be easily extracted from this fate in our imagination! You can imagine that they live anyway. You can slightly tweak the timeline events so it is not that bad. You can play with their past enough, you can pit them to interact with other characters with ease, you can play with AUs...

Midra feels different. He is very strongly 'locked' onto his fate. He is very contained within his manse, his story is limited to Inquisitors, Horsent servants and his family. And Frenzied Flame.. *sigh* "Saving" him from his fate is not something ordinary. Or, maybe, MY EYES ARE YET TO OPEN and I just haven't found the right way yet?

He feels just as isolated from the rest of the story and cast as Hornsent Inquisitors wanted him to be, and I can't explain why! I just.. dread the fact that there is not much for me left to discuss about him besides piecing together the story of him and his manse. All creativity is resorted to detalizing his past, but Frenzied Flame is not your ordinary Soulsborne death.. It is ultra super hyper extra uber nihilism. Once it touches you, you are merely winning extra time, body and mind, but not in the way Scarlet Rot does it. I'd need to dial toooooooOOOO far back to get him and Nanaya out of that and let them hang out with the rest of the cast! I guess I just need to "accept" it. I accepted Melina canonically annihilating herself, I can do this too, I guess. Just not yet. Separating him from Frenzied Flame just feels like amputating too much, you know? Yet that darn thing doesn't leave any hope or life... He is just too doomed even for Soulsborne characters standards, unless too much is reversed. I am very fixated on future and possibilities, in the way my mind works. @velvet-apricots is absolutely THE best person when it comes to detalizing his and Nanaya's past, it feels so alive!

Favorite line:

"I have endured... more than enough...". It is both really haunting AND got meme'd by me into infinity, sorry fdhfdhs It has the same energy as 'The night, and the hunt, were long...' except in a more fucked up context. Likewise, Midra is about to be released from torture of endless internal fight that everyone is doomed to loose, but it won't be sweet embrace of death just for him. It will be this for virtually everyone, if he is not stopped! And there is no way he doesn't know... Just imagine how much torment he went through, and for how long, to finally no longer be able to hold it back EVEN for the sake of every living being.

brOTP:

I do sometimes like to imagine him getting along with other nerds or sages/witches, as well as to dial back all the way into shared link between Midra's Manse and Shaman Village! He is intelligent just enough to be an easy target for crazy ideas, but also has a lot of heart... So, he is not on Sellen tier, but also not on Carians tier, but somewhere between. I think he and Nanaya should visit Ymir's palace somewhere in the timeline where Midra didn't mess with Frenzied Flame. :') Ymir is likewise a madman with both a big brain AND a big heart, but could have offered a softer perspective than fucking with the literal essence of non-existence.

Also, being friends with Madding Hand unironically works xD

Choice of Gravebird set is odd, but it connected in my brain that maybe he used to be a gravekeeper at Manse before! (Whether he used to wear something more modest or not is a question for another day fdhfdsh) I would expect someone like this be the second best person for Midra to talk to after Nanaya. Someone adjusted to very depressing and dark conversations, not being worn down by them nor trying to uplift Midra's spirit when he just wanted to rot a bit fdhfd Definitely see him as a favourite servant.

There is also the fact that he is the only one who survived Inquisitors barging in and executing everyone (except for Nanaya and technically Midra himself)! It is a question how, but prefer to imagine that he had the chance to leave and use the gift having lived, to try and put it behind him... but he did not, and chose to stay in the Abyssal Woods, he chose to make him living a problem of every Inquisitor he can hunt down. Because he just valued Midra and his service to him too much.

OTP:

He is literally married! xD There is no really anyone to ship him with besides Nanaya! I feel like any other person who gets considered would just be the third one in their bed at most fdhfhsd (doesn't sound bad actually but you see what I mean)

I have my vision of her reaction and attitude to the whole FF business, and at this rate they're dangerously close to having divorced energy. But even then, his loyalty and guilt before her is the ONE thing that has been keeping him from giving into FF, and I am sure she still loves him too no matter how hurt she was. I wrote a FULL ask meme about their ship ( x ) and I was surprised by how natural it was flowing? They are writing themselves and I don't know how or why!!! It is very hard to imagine them without one another. I kind of see their love as something that allowed both of their souls to truly bloom, otherwise they'd be more bitter, unfulfilled husks living regretful lives that'd feel like they were just wasted.

nOTP:

It is hard to imagine any other ship with him to BEGIN with, let alone something I would not like. xD But I feel like even if some crack ship (for example the crossover between Soulsborne games or a far-distanced AU) took off, I'd find it funny rather than frustrating! It'd just feel like a joke, so why get angry? (but like I said, in the end you just add third person in the bed, nothing more x) )

Random headcanon:

Midra does not like to admit it, but he can and will be somewhat selective regarding what he likes to learn! He might even disregard certain fields of "science" if they do not interest him or do not seem legit or in depth enough! Again, similarly to how Ymir declared the Moon "just the closest celestial object, nothing more". xD

Except, like I said, Midra would not like to be like this, and certainly not before people who are interested in the topic! He holds himself to a very high standard as a sage, and knows he must accumulate various knowledge and give change to everything. He must NOT be selective. Arguing with how his focus works though is hard, and Nanaya is the one who notices whether he is bored or even irritated with something! She knows that 'just be yourself dude your IQ is already like over 500 💀' won't work on him nor she'd try to do that! So she lets him to both complain and finds a way to make the topic that bores him more interesting to invest into! He could never be Gideon fdhsfdhs

Unpopular opinion:

Is this character popular enough to have UNpopular opinions? xD I suppose, maybe my vision of him and Lord of Frenzied Flame state? I basically see them as different characters. Even more separated than, say, Malenia vs Goddess of Rot or Godwyn vs Prince of Death! It is due to assimilative nature of Frenzied Flame... It is hard to explain. I see Lord of Frenzied Flame as something that needs a vessel to manifest, rather than being borne of this vessel! Tarnished as Lord of Frenzied Flame is like 95% the same being as Midra as Lord of Frenzied Flame imo. :p

Well, FF is the force opposite of disparity, so, sure. Though, Lor would copy manneurisms and visceral remains of its vessel while the world lasts! It would not dance so magnificently had Midra not secretly been a good dancer himself. Nobody just ever knew, not even himself sfhhd

Song I associate with them:

I'll have a couple!

For some reason, the 'I will survive' here was feeling to me more like a warning of sorts... so, after Midra, it clicked to me! It gives me this sense of dread he has knowing he is now an enemy of existence itself, sooner or later.

(Turn on subtitles on Youtube, it does have translation, just coded in subs!) Not quite Midra as himself! Rather, just unifying effect of Frenzied Flame itself... so, Lord of Frenzied Flame? But hey, when else I will have the chance to share this one?

Favorite picture of them:

I can't find a really cursed image of him that cracked me up, trust me I looked, so have this funi meme instead xD

( x )

[whinlatter]

thoughts about wolfstar? you're now the one i go to for any hp related thoughts

omg this is VERY nice of you but i'm pure flop on marauders thoughts, they're all extremely half-baked, so best left to others. here my half-baked wolfstar thoughts offered sheepishly and apologetically!

the thing is - i quite like the idea of wolfstar. to be honest i was sort of imagining a sort of wistful wolfstar vibe to how i wrote lupin in orchards in the aftermath of sirius' death. but i think the wolfstar i like is quite a specific version of it that's increasingly hard to find in fic searches so i don't often go looking for it (which is pure laziness on my part). my interest in canon coherent characterisation limits me here - i think there's such a strong case for wolfstar as a pairing written in ways that attend to the very clear dynamics (and timelines) that canon makes plausible (including in AUs, where actually characterisation matters more, not less, than in 'canon compliant' fics, because it's the reader's only anchor). there is an intensity and an intimacy to what sirius and remus share in the marauders and the significance of a boyhood spent together in their adult lives, a literal physical proximity of them living together as adults post azkaban as two men who have such complex feels towards themselves and especially to their bodies, including an overlapping self loathing, and they're both characters that can very plausibly read as queer-coded in rich and interesting ways. and then, of course, there's an inherent narrative shape to both of their canon arcs (the tragedy, delicious). these are just some of the dynamics in a potential romantic relationship between the two of them that can make for really rich and interesting potential to work with in fic writing.

the trouble i find with a lot of wolfstar, less as a matter of principle than what actually gets written more often than not, is that the stuff i personally find rewarding and interesting as a writer/reader is work that bears some relationship with the canon text (even if - especially if - it's to pull it apart and expose its flaws and complexities). a queer reading of the relationship between sirius and remus in canon is absolutely plausible and can be deeply compelling, and, as queering HP as a text remains a powerful fuck you to its author whose reaction to the ship was errrr quite homophobic, still really important.

but. challenging the text means having some sense of the characterisation of the essence of these characters as rendered in the text, and canon is clear about certain aspects of sirius and remus' characterisations that limits my enthusiasm for a lot of wolfstar that has sprung up in recent years (especially in and around ATYD, which i'll say more about in a minute). the truth is that canon strongly suggests that sirius cares much less about remus than he ever does about james (dropping @saintsenara's excellent manifesto for why unrequited prongsfoot is canon, also the rec for one of the best fics i read last year that @ashesandhackles put me onto, empire builders by shecrows, a gorgeous complex funny angsty prongsfoot fic that's not not canon compliant timeline-wise). it's also clear that the marauders as a friendship group functioned as a group of three boys all working towards james potter as the de facto leader, each with their own complicated feelings and levels of loyalty and devotion to james that undoubtedly shaped, and limited, how the other three felt towards each other (especially after james' death). the kind of wolfstar lore that's sprung up in the last few years, especially from marauderstok, of roadman remus the romeo of gryffindor tower that young sirius is wildly and hopelessly in love with, and is desperate to reunite with after azkaban, is a version of wolfstar that's sort of compelling as an original story but, for my taste, bears too little relationship to their core canon characterisation to be really up my street. a wolfstar with really fucked up power dynamics that plays with sirius' idolisation of james and remus having to play second fiddle? delicious. or even unrequited/onesided wolfstar from remus to sirius - yum. but the rest, i struggle with. by the time they've left school, remus thinks sirius is the spy and sirius thinks remus is the spy. that is not giving soulmates, in my mind. but as with most of these things, i'm very open to being proved wrong.

(with that said, though, i think the subculture and lore that's built around wolfstar is really astonishing and often extremely compelling, i think ATYD is obviously a huge accomplishment and deserves its flowers for launching such a phenomenon, and there's masses of quality writing and art and general creative talent coming out of wolfstar spaces that it's hard not to be continually impressed by. also some of those tiktok edits absolutely slap. that remus-centric animated noah kahan one. unreal)

[cacw]

fatws rewatch thoughts

bucky breaking zemo out of prison was unbelievably dumb. bucky had no real reason to break him out it could have been ANYONE but bucky and it would have worked better. i don't even dislike him being there really it just doesn't make any sense whichever way you look at it. zemo didn't contribute anything worthwhile to the story at all unless you wanna believe that sam and bucky are complete idiots and couldn't manage this themselves. i mean i wouldn't blame you considering that's what the writers themselves seem to think

bucky tells his therapist she's bad at her job (true) but then when sam tells him the exact same shit he eats it up (get better friends bruh). sam down at the VA would not be saying any of this bs man. i can't even believe this was written in. bucky did not have to go and give everyone closure. that is the absolute last thing he should be thinking about. what good does that bring? does that improve any one of these peoples' lives? why is THAT the thing that's supposed to make him feel better? what the hell is wrong with all of you

sam and bucky are both done so unbelievably dirty. how do you fuck up so bad with only 6 episodes

no one is nice to each other and almost every line and character interaction feels so mean spirited. it should have been focused on sam and bucky's relationship and trauma and learning to grow and move past it and be there for each other and Be Kind but it seems like the writers were just trying to wrap up sam and bucky's storyline together as fast as possible

sam obviously does not like bucky. which is fine. but he doesn't trust him and that's the issue i have with it... you've known this guy for years you're not close but he was close with your best friend. he was your best friend's best friend. you put your life on the line to help save this guy. you have fought the same battles. you should KNOW he's trustworthy by now. has this spellman guy ever watched a cap movie because my bet is on no

bucky is never given a chance to breathe. why is bucky not allowed to be upset over what happened to him? why is the only thing in his mind the things he did as the winter soldier? of course of course it's gonna be so hard and it's gonna tear him up inside and that will never go away, but what about the rest. what about the years of brainwashing and torture and constant endless abuse. it's like he's not allowed to really feel

bucky is the show's punching bag for all 6 episodes. he's belittled and made fun of for the winter soldier shit all the time even though timeline wise it's been 9 YEARS since he was active. but it's all anyone knows him as for some reason. why is sam joking about this in front of his family. why is everyone treating him like a wild dog. why is this supposed to be funny

that isn't even mentioning how ooc bucky himself is. freeing zemo/damaging his relationship with the wakandans/rushing into fights/etcetcetc. it never ends. he's powered down both physically and mentally and once again it's a case of Bad Characterization Outside of Cap Trilogy

sam is such a good person. he's incredible. and he could be so much more if the writers had ever given a damn about giving him any real substance at all. does that make sense... it's the same problem they've always had with bucky. they don't know what to do with these characters they're too afraid to commit to anything and they end up neglecting to make their characters Actual Characters

i don't really think i hate john walker as a character as much as i dislike the way he's written (which is a problem i have with every character in this show). he is a product of his environment. it can be interesting. but it's not interesting enough to warrant making bucky look like the resident dumbass in order to make john look more sympathetic in turn

episode 5 (the boat episode) is the only one that's worth anything at all and even then it doesn't get the relationship between sam and bucky right. it's as close as they got but it wasn't enough

everything about this show is so shallow. it's so contrived it feels so pointless in the end because it doesn't REALLY feel like we saw anyone grow. the more i think about this the more i think it should have JUST been about sam. this is supposed to be about him growing into his title but it doesn't feel like anyone actually gained anything from this experience at all

the power broker stuff was dumb

i don't even know where to start with karli

you need to do better feige

[warborn-tragedy]

Alright, second head canon post to christen the new blog with! Pixie and her mommy issues! This will be a longer post so I'm putting the details under the cut.

In short, it's an incredibly loaded and needlessly complicated dynamic and what I'm about to say mostly applies to the 'main' timeline, although there's aspects of it as a 'universal constant'.

Growing up, Pixie was always the 'good kid' out of her siblings. Her parents never had to worry about her, she was that straight-A student constantly participating in extracurriculars. In short, the "perfect kid", meeting all her parents expectations and then some.

And an important note about Pixie's mother- she was a well-respected F-18 pilot in the Marine Corps for most of her childhood so like. That did affect a lot of Hunter's expectations in the sense that she just wanted to see her daughter succeed and make something of herself.

Expectations that were pretty easily met when Pixie first enlisted in the Army Reserves to both help pay for college and jump start a career in the U.S. military. And this is absolutely critical foundation/context for everything else. Because Hunter was in full, unbridled open support of her daughter joining the military after high school. She recognized the benefits and well, Red had the exact sort of personality that was well-suited for leadership type roles, was the sort of person Hunter thought the military needed more of.

It wasn't until her 2009 deployment that things truly became complicated. Because of course getting captured and nearly killed is going to change some things familial-dynamics wise. Hunter and Pixie weren't any exception, and it boils down to a conflict of goals/motivations combined with mutual stubbornness. Pixie couldn't imagine herself doing anything but staying in the military, staying active duty, because she knew in her heart she couldn't last in the civilian world, not with her current state of mind. But her mother? Hunter didn't want her 'baby daughter' staying in the force after having a child and losing her arm. She didn't want to lose her the next time something happened. Yes, it's a somewhat selfish sentiment, especially when considering the fact Hunter would've done the exact damn thing if she was in Pixie's position.

Now. Is this a situation easily solved by a simple conversation? Sure is! But this is where the mutual stubbornness comes in. Because for all it's worth, Pixie is 100% her mother's daughter. She has her fire, her tenacity, her refusal to back down. Hunter cared too much and it prevented her from really listening to Pixie's insistence on why she needed to stay in, both for mental health reasons and her firm belief she wasn't ready to be a mother to her daughter.

Nowadays, Pixie and Hunter are minimal contact, or as close to it as they can get considering the fact that Hunter and Pixie's father are the primary caretakers for her daughter. Unfortunately, any conversations they have constantly, without fail, default to heated arguments over Pixie still being in the military and Hunter seemingly trying to "control" Pixie as an adult.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree and it's just a further catalyst for conflict, and still at the end of the day they're family and that does mean something. Adult relationships with older family members are just fucking complicated, and it's possible to be on poor terms with someone yet be reluctant to cut them off entirely. Because there is a sort of vague understanding that they still care about each other, even if it's shown in all the wrong ways.

[fredrickzoller]

How do you think they started hooking up? Due to Dieter internalised homophobia, I doubt he would makes moves towards a man who much more powerful than him in terms of career and rank. Maybe you wrote a story and I just didn’t read. Also I hope you aren’t tired of my questions, im on my “obsessed obsessed obsessed” phase of shipping rn loool

No, I love your questions, anon! I love getting to think about them all over again and I love hearing peoples' takes on them as well.

It took me a while because I can't really go into this without delving into the territory of non-con, and i have to be in the right headspace to like, dive into this. So, yeah, behind the cut because talk of non-con/sexual assault.

(Also, as a note, this is a very abridged version of everything because again I hope to expand upon it more in upcoming fics)

So in the timeline I have for Landstrom, they start hooking up in 1934 (as per "Tease Rough") shortly before the Night of the Long Knives. For those unfamiliar with the event, uh, quick and dirty is that basically Hitler wanted to purge anyone from his ranks he felt was undermining/against him/not conducive to his "vision" for Germany and that included his main homie, Ernst Roehm, who was as "out" as a gay man could be in 1930s Germany. (Like, secret-but-not-a-secret, you feel me?)

So like the point of this is, before Roehm was murdered, homosexuality within the SA and the SS was way more… I mean not "accepted" per se but it was just like, a blind eye was turned to it. Only after Roehm's death and Himmler taking over (the SA was dissolved and what was left was absorbed into the SS) did they start really cracking down on homosexuality within the organization, and then of course persecute citizens who "practiced" it.

In my hcs for Dieter, he joins the SS at a young age (18/19, so around its inception, which would make sense if he's already at major at 34) and at first he's thinking like, okay, discipline and purpose will help rid me whatever the fuck I got going on but then it's like oh. Wait. I can maybe find an advantage here.

For all his internalized homophobia, I think he is also quite audacious (as witnessed in how he interacts with Hugo and Archie, and he seems a bit flippant even with Goebbels, which is… lol probably not wise), and he knows he's attractive in a boyish way. So, yeah he doesn't necessarily proposition officers but he makes it very clear that he's available in exchange for however they might be able to assist him. He's young and reckless and arrogant. He does not think he will be caught or subject to punishment so long as he proves and ingratiates himself, in which case he will have protection (but you know, he's also not above selling people out if need be. I haven't a particular instance in mind but I can ABSOLUTELY imagine he'd play the victim if he were suspected of any of this, because of course he would. His whole life is about playing the victim wah poor me.)

But there's more to it - to him actively seeking out partners (including Hans).

And this is where the non-con/assault comes in. But my hc for him is that he's a victim of rape, his first "boyfriend" when he's 14 and his bf is 17 - and him putting himself out there to sleep with other superior officers to get ahead is yes, exactly what it says on the tin (getting ahead, whoring his way up the ranks) but also self-inflicted punishment, what he feels is deserved for what he "let" happen, and for this behavior he's letting rule him, unchecked. He does not like bottoming but he does it, accepts it, because he feels it's deserved - for this thing he doesn't really want to do (or, shouldn't want to do) but is doing anyway, this is his punishment. It's some fucked up shit that never really gets resolved (of course) and that Hans only sort of? pieces together because he only finds out certain details (about the boyfriend/the rape trauma etc).

As for who starts it, it's addressed in the 2nd chapter of "Preoccupied" that Dieter is the one to proposition Hans (very bluntly, might I add), and this is what draws Hans to him - just that he'd be so brazen about it. Of course, Dieter is a fucking moron and thinks that this means he has any sort of power over Hans, which we know is not true lmao. (Again, this is gone into, in Tease Rough, how Dieter thinks he's in charge and hasn't figured Hans out enough to realize it.)

Hans isn't the first man he tops with, but obviously Dieter is drawn to wanting to continue whatever the fuck they start, because he knows that will rarely, if ever, be an option. He doesn't have to relive the trauma each and every time, which, okay. Like good, I guess? In his mind, any way.

(Also, after Night of the Long Knives, Dieter definitely does not seek out other officers as partners, and lucky for him, many of the men he's been with [I say 'many' but I can't imagine it actually being more than a handful] he either does not see again or they are dealt with. Not all, but most.)

I just personally see Hans as being very turned on and intrigued by people who show that sort of audacity, because it's a nice challenge for him - very stimulating to try and figure out how to one-up them, in the end (tangentially, this is my hc for Hans and Bridget's tryst too, that he's drawn to her being able to keep up with him, banter-wise). I think Hans would be bored by someone who would just give in to his advances immediately, which I have him hinting at has been the case in the past with the few men he's hooked up with - that they submit to him quickly and he's just like yawwnnnn.

And part of the reason Dieter propositions him so confidentally is because he has a Source in re: to the fact that Hans enjoys being with other men.

And this Source will make an appearance in my next Landstrom fic. :)

[yukyunotabibito]

PINNED

TOA Canon [Town of Garreg Mach: Merchant]

PATH OF RADIANCE/RADIANT DAWN [Radiant Dawn NG+ Post Game]

His "original" mission to return the girl he found wandering about Goldoa's halls complete, the lure of a whole new continent to explore ignites his wanderlust, and he decides to stay for the time being. An added benefit is that he is able to watch over Kurthnaga while he is here without having to worry about the young king - though that had been part of his true intention to come all along. Content with how Kurthnaga is doing for now, Nasir sees fit to leave the walls of the main monastery and venture down into the town below as he believes he does not always have to keep a watchful eye on the boy every second. While scouting out the area, he meets an old merchant looking for someone to take over his shop as he has grown weary and wishes to move to the countryside to live with his children. Nasir obliges, as he already has experience in the field and the old man leaves his shop in Nasir's care. Time to get to work; huh?

ABOUT | INTERVIEW | Please kindly do not use small text! (Post) | Current Month's Plotting (post)

Due to the nature of Nasir in POR and his late game recruit in RD, as well as his tendency to just... talk. There will be spoilers for all of Tellius. You have been warned.

NOTES UNDER THE CUT

Thereoretically >three years post Radiant Dawn. It would be one, but his appearance at the academy is meant to align with Kurthnaga's timeline (wherein he was a year post RD and spent a year+ at the academy before returning briefly to Goloda, and then coming back to academy in March).

He lacks the ability to sit absolutely still at any time. If he's not taking the students out on some wander into the woods during class (don't worry, he knows where he's going), then he's pacing at the front of the classroom.

He has lots of fascinating tales about his many journeys to tell. Provided you can get him to open up and pry them out of him, of course.

On that note, Nasir is extremely secretive, especially with those that he does not yet trust or know. He will gladly talk to anybody, but if they start asking questions about who he is or where he comes from (even after returning to Goldoa, there are still certain things he would rather keep secret when he is away), he will take great lengths to not talk about himself or his past.

He is also extremely cryptic, and while he can talk a lot, he will just say thing sometimes that just... don't make sense. There is a high probability of him not elaborating even if the other muse tries to puzzle out what his words mean.

You fuck with Kurthnaga in any severe ways, and you will find a Nasir on your doorstep. With Dheginsea's death, his loyalty for his king extended to Kurthnaga. Even once he knows Dheginsea is at the academy and revived, he will remain loyal to both of them.

He can be rather harsh with his words, when he thinks the situation calls for it. He will not hold his tongue if he believes someone needs to be aware of their shortcomings and faults. He usually doesn't mean any harm, but can offend anyway due to how harsh he can be.

PATCH NOTES AS OF 7/10/2024:

He will still be keeping an eye on Kurthnaga, but will be less hovering than he was as a permanent fixture at the monastery.

Narratively wise, he has asked to maintain the office he had before moving down to the town. He is paying rent though, so think of it as simply renting out an office space.

He will still be acting as a teacher, though it's more like he's an outside instructor offering his wisdom rather than a tenured professor. Rest assured his lovely students, class will still be the same time as always. Do not be late.

[leffee]

I swear you can read my mind because I originally had wedges included lol then I erased it

nah I get it the muscular legs was more so what he sees and everyone else sees his noodle legs 😂

in some other timeline though I could see it with all the dancing he does

I would also love to hear your thoughts on how you see him body wise a bit more is it just noodle? Naturally skinny? Eating disorder? Abs?

Haha, yeeah, I just figured it would apply to any kind of shoes that would make him visibly taller. He just... sees them and immediately feels the need to wear them to have that sweet, sweet feeling of being taller.

Ok, then I agree completely xD. Yeah, I can absolutely see that then. Just Vinnie, having those moments when he's like "Look at my muscles/how tall I am!" and like, no, no buddy, not even close. It's not there all the time, and when it's there most of the time it's just a joke or unbased bragging, but I think he has some delusional moments when he genuinely believes he's taller/more muscular than he actually is (which is like none).

Yeah, in some other timeline I can see that too, it makes sense and all, I just don't like my favourite characters physically strong and/or muscular. Although, one headcanon I have regarding this, in a normal timline and universe and everything, is that, though not muscly, his legs are really strong and durable, resilience-wise. For example, him and Penny Ling are really fast runners because they just work on their legs so much it makes those limbs strong, so anything that mostly requires them to use their leg muscles (like jogging) goes really well for them.

And as for his body. Basically, he's as small as can be. Just a noodle. In many places, mostly on his ribs, you can see his bones. That, combined with his really pale complexion, makes him look like he's sick if you don't know any better. So generally, just a noodle. And it's all genes for him. Just like some people have tendency to get fat easier when not even eating that much, he has a tendency not to gain any weight, even when eating a lot. For now at least. Plus, he dances a lot, so in this context it's basically exercise which helps as well, helps keep him super skinny I mean. So even when his metabolism slows down he'd remain closely as he is. There's absolutely a universe where he has anorexia, but in the normal one it's all genes. I was thinking wether I'd rather have him have anorexia nervosa or bulimia nervosa, but I settled for anorexia, bulimia seems more like it would be Minka's thing, you know? But that's a whole other thing. However, in the normal universe, if anything, he's pissed, because he'd like not to be that skinny, he'd like to look more "manly". Not his main concern but it is something that he thinks about sometimes. Bonus, if I were to give him some sort of eating disorder in the normal universe, it would be eating things you're not supposed to - it's profesionally called Pica - and I'd give him eating stuff like wood, maybe glue, oh oh and blood, of course.

My fucked up beloved <3 He's sooo... creature.

[possessionisamyth]

First, I want to apologize because my first post was genuinely not intended as a cut to you, but rereading that last paragraph I wrote. Yeah, not my best. Apologies. Second, I respect you and your analysis too, and I appreciate that you're laying things out the way you are, but I am absolutely exhausted with every single one of Ada's behaviors being derived from who she's fucking. We're finally getting her as her own character and people are still doing this. It's been a staple of her character in the originals to base all her actions around how many times she's sucked and fucked Leon's dick. I can't look at her actions in this format, and I can't give the exception to Wesker either.

My whole blurb about Ada not working regularly for Wesker was just to have a blurb on him like I did with Luis, but I'll go further.

This is the first time we are seeing Wesker in the remakes, and I have no idea how much from the original timeline they're morphing into this timeline. Wesker sending a helicopter to save Ada after RE2 was a rail gun shooter, so I've been treating it about the same level as the changes made to RE2 in the The Darkside Chronicles which is background noise. The main interaction we have between Ada and Wesker is in RE4. The only time we see Wesker closely interact with a woman is in RE5 where he's extremely disgusted and visibly uncomfortable.

There's absolutely the argument for closeness since Ada does get away with a lot. There's also playful flirting people do that could equal closeness but lead can absolutely nowhere, and Ada being comfortable enough to do this is an equally acceptable answer. Ada could've done absolutely anything for this man with her skill set that would've made her a valuable asset in his eyes considering the jobs she can do. Yes, she fucked up in Raccoon, but Wesker is also usually a practical thinker. This was the world's first zombie viral outbreak of this scale. Everyone who was sent into this situation was going in blind with zero bioweapon experience including Ada. Yes, she failed, but literally no one that Umbrella sent into the infected city succeeded. This was a less than 0% success rate, and the fact that she was one of the extremely tiny amount of people to survive the incident means she now possessed a new and rare skill set for the time being. This can also have value. Why is the jump to "they fucked" always the first reasoning in the narrative for closeness. When the remake writers are trying to separate her from this with Leon, what's the point of shifting that to Wesker? What does this do for Ada after years of "her and Leon fucked" and nothing else for her? I don't think it does anything, and I don't think it's there.

I don't know what Wesker's doing on the island, but he's very impatient with Ada based on all these calls. Story wise they're probably trying to make this the equivalent of Hunnigan calling Leon to check on him, but this is the first job Hunnigan is doing with Leon, so this makes sense. Not the case with Wesker and Ada. Why does he have her on blast every thirty minutes? Probably to cover up all the unscrupulous shit he's doing, but it doesn't make it any less like baby-sitting. If he knows she can do the job, what is with the hovering?

Muller aside, I don't think this man fucks anyboby. Wesker is an actor who is rather hands off until his has to and he makes sure there's time allotted for it. The whole set-up with Barry in RE1 was Wesker stepping back and watching shit happen as planned until he had to snuff out the last few STARS members. He works alone presumably for the first time in Code Veronica, but it looks like he's enjoying using his new abilities so this was probably was a test run of them. If we're bringing in the rail gun shooters, he was letting Chris and Jill mostly clear the areas until he meets up with Sergei to tie off that loose end. In RE5, the boulder has finally rolled into the volcano because he's been the man pulling the strings at Tricell for so long that he's lost the plot. Everything about Wesker's character tells me that Jake is an artificial insemination baby no matter how much the mysterious Ms. Muller supposedly loved Albert.

Again, I am absolutely sorry that this post seemed like it was coming for you, but it wasn't and it wasn't my intention. But again, I did fuck up with that last paragraph and I will take responsibility. Truth is, I am in multiple resident evil discord servers, and I have to see cleon and aeon shippers yell at each other about this. Sometimes I get angry and frustrated, and I know as soon as I open my mouth I'm going to get hit with the "why are we arguing? stop fighting!" that may one day lead to me getting banned because I keep getting this shut down every time I make a statement that doesn't immediately agree with someone else's interpretation. I've given up, and I'm yelling here.

You've seen my annoying posts. You know I'm interested in the most impossible Leon ship that will never happen in a million years. This wasn't supposed to be a "you're a dirty shipper and I'm not" dialogue. I am just desperately, desperately trying to make sense of an Ada narrative that isn't based on what's recently gone into her vagina.

Here's some RE Separate Ways analysis that isn't about shipping because I like Ada. I'm happy her DLC actually focuses on her, but some of the takes I'm seeing are Insufferable. Main statements in bold for ease of reading and skipping purposes.

-Wesker and Ada haven't been working together consistently for the past 6 years. This dripless bitch is calling Ada every five minutes to babysit her. I don't think that's the relationship dynamic of someone you're regularly employed under, and when it is, Ada is not the type of character to tolerate that behavior for 6 years. We know Ada is a contract worker. We can understand she's worked for Wesker on and off, but she's a freelance agent period. She must've done enough jobs for Wesker that he feels the need to check on her and have this constant reporting in to make sure she stays on task since he's clearly used to her not always following his orders. He 100% hired her for this assignment because he knew the situation and compared to the other options, she had the highest survival chances. Which, he was right. High risk, high reward.

Sometimes Wesker's babysitting works: Ada holding Luis at gunpoint when he tries to negotiate saving Leon and Ashley. Sometimes he knows when to step away: "Keep your dog." All of it is in the effort to get what he wants. Look, he let her live. He worked with S.T.A.R.S for years and wanted them all dead. If he worked with Ada regularly and she pulled this shit with the amber, he would've had that helicopter blown out of the sky. There's always some restraint with personal distance, especially with a guy who thinks so highly of himself.

-Luis is a drama queen. In the regular game, Luis acts cool and under control to the best of his abilities around Leon and Ashley. It's a part of his newly found hero-complex even though he does still know when to ask for help: "save me prince charming!" In the DLC, we see the real side of Luis. The one who's scared, and dramatic, and knows when he's not shooting with a loaded gun so to speak. When Ada tells him to leave her to fight, he does. He wants to help, but his respect for her abilities sends him fleeing like she orders him to. Also, like every scientist, he has zero self-preservation! He ran into a fire that clearly would kill him to get medicine. And the exchange afterwards? "No! Now you'll all die!" "Make some more medicine." "Oh..yeah...I can do that. I do have that ability."

The flamenco dance. "Are you mad at me???🥺 You're mad at me!😭" This man understands Ada can kill him without blinking, but still can't keep his composure around her. This is such a fun dynamic to explore in fic for expansion stories and "Luis lives" au's. The DLC gives him breaks to freak out and panic, whereas the main game holds the "cool persona" moments after Leon saves him. Even his dying words to Ada. This man is bleeding to death and still can't shut up. I love him.

Okay, that's all I gotta say about the loser men. Now for the star of the DLC. Ada. :)

-Ada "Sans Undertale go into my eyes" Wong. The methods Ada uses in the DLC are fun and appropriate. It's not invasive and in your face unlike another agent, but more subtle. She can track footprints, fingerprints, gauge the safe distance required for her grappling hook, and she knows when she needs to fight and whens he needs to run. Her practicality has always been the cleanest of the entire cast due to her being a spy, but this time we actually get to see this trait utilized through her tools.

-Ada is silly and quips her own jokes to get through it. Something I'm not seeing anyone talk about including the aeon people who are claiming anything they can get, is this specific humor parallel between Leon and Ada in the remake. Both of them have gone through the horrors of Raccoon City. Both of them went right back into very difficult military in function style work which always has a body count. I talked about Leon's humor coping mechanism here [X], but to hear Ada do the same thing? I feel like they went under the radar because they don't sound as stupid as Leon's quips, but they are still so stupid. "Nighty night." "Lights out." "Bring me a real challenge next time." "Now look at the mess you've made." "You think that gun will be enough?" She and Leon even share the same "Next," line!

If I had 80GB to spare on the game, I'd see just how many more I could get out of her. Like, these are dumb as hell. She's found a method to cope with the horrors she's witnessing that just so happens to coincide with Leon's. I'm not saying this as a marker of whatever romance you've tossed them in or even to diss any other romances. What I am saying is that they have a similar type of mental illness resulting from trauma, and they ended up using the exact same coping method despite never seeing each other.

Ada fans who hate Leon! This opens a door for you when it comes to character analysis and how Ada deals with her PTSD and/or depression! Run through it RIGHT NOW!

-Ada's infection pulls a lot more weight than it seems. I've seen some people say Ada's parasite should've been removed the same as Leon's and Ashley's. (Which is an extremely unsubtle argument to get them all in the same room for your shipping nonsense.) However, something I noticed with the DLC were the parallels to the troubles in RE2. The Black Robe/U-3/Pesenta monster is the first time where we get to see Ada dealing with a stalking enemy. Due to RE4 being so much more plot-lined streamed to maintain the flow of gameplay, these events were not allowed to be random, but the narrative purpose remains. Ada gets to have a stalking enemy in her DLC like Claire and Leon did in RE2 with the addition of a hubris check.

The hubris check? Well, Ada has never been infected until this DLC. In the original games, she can step back and watch people die because she doesn't know what it feels like. Now she knows what it feels like. The lack of control. The pain. The slow turning. Her job has had her flirting with death for years, but not in a way she can't fiddle with the odds. A parasite is not something a person can distract with words. The action to steal the amber is backed up via personal experience not just a morality code slapped on. The addition of Wesker's correction to "billions of causalities" means she's included in that number and just cements her incentive to flee. She's not doing this for Leon. She's not doing this for Luis. She's doing this for herself, and if it so happens to help other people then it is what it is. After being on both sides of the coin when it comes to viruses, she can no longer function as entirely impartial to the work she's doing.

-Ada doesn't ask for permission but asks for forgiveness. Don't take this phrasing literally. She doesn't ask Wesker to forgive her. What this means is that she'll do something before asking, and if it upsets people then she'll course correct. Her job is not the kind of job where she needs to take orders for every action she implements which is why Wesker calling every five minutes was annoying as hell. In the OG RE4 she kind of argues with Wesker for Leon to live for "his usefulness", but it's swiftly shut down until it's convenient to Wesker for Leon to live. This forces her to sneak around and betray Wesker multiple times to save Leon secretly, and the concept rightfully gets thrown into the garbage for the remake DLC.

The scene in the bedroom where Wesker tells Ada not to become a liability after taking her blood? Ada doesn't fight to get her shit back. Some people said this was flirting. Wrong. This is Ada seeking forgiveness after the fuck up of passing out in the middle of an active field by letting Wesker walk off with an infection sample. She then makes sure not to fuck up a second time in the same way, and she doesn't. She learns the signs of her parasite so in case she does pass out again, she'll be somewhere much less conspicuous. She listens for the changes in her environment and the feelings in her body and prepares herself for what's next.

-Ada saves Leon and Ashley for Luis' sake. I stated earlier that Ada's action to take the amber was for her own sake but ends up helping others. This is the exact situation going on when Luis talks about getting the suppressant. She needs the suppressant in order to do her job and kill the black robe so she can heal. It just so happens that Leon and Ashley need the suppressant for survival reasons too. They are an afterthought until Luis dies.

We watch Ada question Wesker and his plans all throughout this DLC, and she comes to her own conclusions after her experience working with him. She could've gotten the amber back and let the whole place blow into smithereens like Wesker intended. Who cares about the president's daughter? Who cares about another dead federal agent? Luis did. He cared so much he died for it, and just like that other clown in Raccoon City (aka her), she got emotionally attached. If there was anything she could've done for Luis to make his death mean something, it was this act.

-Ada sells Leon's jacket. This isn't analysis, but I thought this was funny as hell. ACAB! No exceptions! Freeze your tiddies off, Leon! I don't give a shit!

-Ada's new outfit is still better than her old one. It's still not the best they could've given her. I'm also not speaking from a fashion point of view when I say this. In the OG RE4 we see Leon in a jacket which is forcibly removed to show off his pecs to the ladies, but it clearly marks a colder time of year. OG RE4 Ada has arms out, legs out, and tits out because a hoe never gets cold. The sweater dress for the remake re-establishes that it's colder here because even Luis doesn't lose his jacket. Ashley doesn't lose her jacket either until they yoink it off her for ritual reasons. I still hate that the thigh high boots have that heel and would prefer the flats, but that's going to be in the complaint paragraph below.

-Capcom sexism at play once again. I don't give a shit about rigs and motion capture or whatever, her walk cycle was 2 adjustments from being full Bayonetta, and I hate it. The ass shots? Disrespectful. Her heels didn't have to be that high. Never heard of a kitten heel? They exist. The people who worked on RE3 Remake and worked on this DLC sure love to make a woman vomit don't they? Why the fuck was she so clean the entire game? She was being thrown around and tossed in the dirt a lot, but this woman's skin is shinier than a waxed apple. Either she has some wet wipes on hand, or god forbid women get filthy. Absolutely zero reason she shouldn't have been looking as rough as Leon by the time she gets on the helicopter! No reason at all!

That's all they wrote! I love Ada. I loved this DLC, and I loved the dynamics going on here even though I hated every time Wesker was on screen or opened his mouth at all.

As much as I would love to expand this post and go further into the changed Ada and Leon relationship, I frankly hate all the takes I've been seeing so much on either side of the Aeon debate. I hate the ongoing conversation around it so much that I don't know if I want to discuss this at all. The Aeon should've gotten this if not for Luis and Ashley side and the Aeon is dead side going back and forth with each other? All of you put on your clown noses! None of you are looking at this situation objectively to see where the lines cross and where they run alongside each other, and frankly I'm tired! I could clear this whole table off so both of you can get exactly what you want based on what you're not actually interpreting from this media, but I won't! Kill each other!

[treemotan]

Long post ahead because I have a lot of thoughts/ideas and ADHD makes me chronically unable to get to the fucking point.

So after thinking about it, if I were to change one thing about The Quarry, it would ABSOLUTELY be the backstory going on with Eliza and Silas and the overall setup to the events of the game. Because as it stands, even if it's probably meant to be a reference to The Wolfman, not only is the whole Harum Scarum plotline pretty fucking racist against the Roma people (who are consistently used and stereotyped in media even in the modern age and is my main gripe), but it also REALLY doesn't make a whole lot of sense given the timeline of the game.

Like, it's meant to be taking place in 2020/2021 somewhere in the U.S., with the fire and Silas's escape taking place six years prior. When the fresh hell was the last time a "Traveling Freakshow" actually toured around the country? I highly doubt Eliza would've gotten away with locking her disabled (because friendly reminder most people with albinism are at least partially blind due to the lack of pigment in their eyes) son in a cage and exploiting his condition by showing him off as an oddity in 2014/2015 without the police and CPS immediately getting called on her ass and the whole thing getting shut down. Like I get law enforcement is often pretty useless, but probability-wise eventually SOMEONE would've looked into it. It doesn't make much sense in a modern context and feels really shoehorned in, in addition to being pretty insensitive.

So my vision of a rewrite. I feel like rather than grapple with potential negative stereotypes, we should remove any sort of "ethnic flavor" to Eliza and Silas in addition to the whole "travelling freakshow" plotline, in favor of having them be residents of North Kill at the time. If we wanted to retain an air of mystery about them and keep a lot of Eliza's "spooky" aesthetics, perhaps they only recently moved in. Eliza herself maybe is recognized as an occultist or is a practicing witch of some form, which combined with her loner tendencies and temperament probably doesn't make her particularly popular in this small, rural town. Maybe runs a taxidermy shop out of her home for an actual living; adds to the "spooky" and also makes sense in an area where hunting is probably popular.

Silas himself is probably "officially" homeschooled, and seldom-seen by most of the populace except for perhaps the rare occasion he accompanied his mother out of the house (and clung to her like a lifeline the entire time, with Eliza herself keeping an iron grip on him in turn), or is glimpsed peeking out his bedroom window, or staring down customers of the taxidermy shop from around the corner or the top of the stairs, but never really talking to anyone. And never really allowed to, for that matter, nor does he ever seem allowed to play with any of the other kids in town either. Even though he very much seems to long for companionship. And occasionally, the observant individual may be able to see blood on the kid, by his mouth or nails, for example. And unknown to the other folks in North Kill, on the night of the full moon, is locked away in a cage in the middle of the woods near the home to prevent him from harming anyone when he changes.

Essentially, what I'm going for is that Eliza isolates her son, either out of possessiveness or fear that he might harm or bite someone, even accidentally. Certainly abusive through these actions - but in a way that I feel leaves a lot of interpretation up to the viewers as to how sympathetic she actually is because while it's certainly doing no favors for Silas in terms of social and emotional development and fulfillment, and ultimately leaving him VERY dependent on his mother, it can very much be seen as attempts to reduce harm on Eliza's part. And on the flip side, how much of it is genuinely wanting to keep people from getting hurt versus a desire to have control over her son. And overall makes for a much more compelling narrative.

At any rate, I feel like it also gives room for Kaylee and Caleb to observe Silas and his situation, maybe even get some kind of bond going if we wanted to make things even sadder. We know that Kaylee was very outgoing and kind - I could see her attempting to reach out to what she saw as a shy, scared little boy. Maybe she'd sit down and try to talk to him when his Mama's attention was diverted, or when she accompanied her grandpa and uncle Bobby to Eliza's to have their latest trophy preserved and mounted. On that note, hell, maybe Eliza softened a little and begrudgingly allowed the Hackett girl to entertain her boy; it made Silas happy, and she seemed to have a way with him.

All of this of course leading up to a presumably 12-14 year old Kaylee and Caleb discovering a caged Silas in the woods. Night has not yet fallen; Eliza makes sure to lock him up WELL before sunset so she herself is not at risk. Kaylee asks Caleb to run to Eliza's and keep her distracted while she frees Silas and gets him away so they can go to the Sheriff. Caleb starts the fire, which is probably NOT what Kaylee meant by a distraction, and meets up with her and Silas after the latter's been freed. Night is falling while the fire blazes out of control, having spread to the woods and possibly to a couple other buildings in town (claiming the lives of most of the North Kill sheriff's office), Silas transforms and bites Caleb before fleeing into the wilderness, and the story progresses as normal.

Anyways that's how I'd rewrite it. It's a lot more realistic I think and adds a lot of weight to Eliza's grudge towards the Hacketts, since they'd probably interact with her for business and if Silas was fond of Kaylee ahead of time. Since maybe Eliza would see it as a betrayal in this context. Also puts Kaylee and Caleb's shortsighted plan into the context of dumbass preteens making a very bad decision in the panic of seeing their pseudo-baby brother (since Silas was maybe what, 6 or 7?) locked up in a cage like an animal.

Anyways shutting up now hope y'all liked my brain worms.

[0zzysaurus]

Jellicles as Dinosaurs*

(*More accurately, the prehistoric animal each Jellicle would be) (NOTE: Pretty much none of these animals would've occupied the same timeline/environment/circumstances as each other, but this is just for fun - and yes, I know it doesn't make sense to have carnivores and herbivores in the same herd, but just assume the carnivores find other sources of food at any oases the herd comes across on their migration)

Alonzo: Achilloraptor - Big raptor that used to run with Macavity but now protects the herd. Is subservient to Munkustrap.

Asparagus Jr: Polacanthus - Doesn't do all that much, follows the herd pretty contently.

Bombalurina: Dinofelis - Sleeker than other saber-cats. Capable hunter that has a coalition with Demeter.

Bustopher Jones: Muttaburrasaurus - Big, hungry, a bit lumbery but can run pretty fast when he decides to skedaddle.

Cassandra: Ornithomimus - Sleek, quick, a little neurotic. Runs ahead to scout out future paths.

Coricopat and Tantomile: Parasaurolophus - Mysterious, have a really iconic look together with their head crests, they do a lot of stargazing.

Demeter: Smilodon - Less sleek as Bomba, but just as powerful, if not even more so.

Electra: Sinonyx - Little bitey creature. Weaves around the herd and tries not to get stepped on.

Etcetera: Mesonyx - Another little bitey creature. Chases Electra and plays with her a lot.

Exotica: Saurolophus - Dignified, does a lot of lounging in the shade with the other older girls.

George: Andrewsarchus - BIG bitey creature. Is tentatively given permission to follow the herd, but doesn't often show intentions of predation on them. Likes to play with the raptors and thinks he is one.

Grizabella: Gobihadros - Old lady who's doing her best. Falls behind a lot and has scars from Macavity.

Gus: Placereas - Fucking ancient. Old as shit. How is he even keeping up with everyone else?

Jellylorum: Oviraptor - A very good carer and broodmother.

Jemima: Leaellynasaura - Smal but smart and perceptive, quick on her feet.

Jennyanydots: Maiasaura - An equally dedicated caregiver, just a bit larger.

Macavity: Allosaurus - Biggest predator around, constantly following the herd.

Mr Mistoffelees: Ornitholestes - Devious, clever, spends most of his time on the edges of the herd nipping at rodents.

Mungojerrie: Carnotaurus - Big lad, sometimes runs with the herd, but also sometimes runs with Macavity. Munk doesn't really trust him but he's never attacked a herd member before.

Munkustrap: Mantellisaurus - Will absolutely slice you up with his thumb spikes if you try to get close to his herd. Makes accommodations for peaceful predators who want to join during drought migrations.

Old Deuteronomy: Gigantopithecus - Wise old monkey man, doesn't lead the herd but somehow appears at every oasis they visit.

Plato: Deinonychus - The biggest of the younger raptors. Totally didn't fall in love with an iguanodont during the migration.

Pouncival: Velociraptor - The smallest of the younger raptors. Looks up to Alonzo and Mungojerrie. Isn't great at hunting.

Rum Tum Tugger: Megantereon - Saber-cat with the biggest sabers. Powerful but prefers to not do any of the hard work. Follows Bomba's coalition around and mooches off their kills.

Rumpleteazer: Majungasaurus - Hangs around with Jerrie since they're both abelisaurids. They squabble a lot and Teazer has to vouch for Jerrie's promises not to hunt the herd.

Skimbleshanks: Megaloceros - Scottish Irish Elk. Noble, keeps an eye out for the herd, but doesn't mingle often.

Tumblebrutus: Dromaeosaurus - The mid-sized member of the younger raptors. Is pretty boistrous and nips at other herd members sometimes. A little dubious, could grow up to be a serious threat.

Victoria: Uteodon - Smaller iguanodont. May or may not have fallen in love with a raptor.

[tired-bisexual-brainrot]

how do you think the duffers will approach byler with the time jump and how does that compare to what you would like it to be? also are there any scenes you would really like for there to be in season 5? eg. them in the upside down together, a mike basement scene…

hope you’re doing well :))

am i the only person who doesn’t want a huge time jump, some people are like “well what if it jumps several years” which idk that seems like it wouldn’t make sense timeline wise but maybe that’s just me

ideally it’d be halloween, or christmas, but i want the spooky fall stranger things vibes again like in s2! ofc i want the rain fight confession and kiss scene, but i’d also love it if mike was just attached to will at the hip, like that boy is not letting will go anywhere alone. also, they better give will a gun istg

i’d like to see a “crazy together” callback scene, and i want mike to get vecna’d, or like seriously injured and then will just loses his control and snaps and just fucking does his absolute worst to vecna i think will deserves it after everything vecna’s done to him and made him lose. also them being trapped in the upside down together would be great to see, especially if will has a gun and mike is gay panicking the whole time

thank you anon, i hope you’re doing good as well <3

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ���oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​