#THEY HAVE GIVEN ME UNTIL 2025 TO PREPARE FOR MY DEATH
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KEITA'S NEXT DRAMA IS HIM IN A BAND OH LORD LOOK AT HIM IT'S GONNA KILL ME
#lex waffles#drama ramblings#BIG AS A DRUMMER NOW KEITA AS A GUITARIST I KEEP WINNING#THEY HAVE GIVEN ME UNTIL 2025 TO PREPARE FOR MY DEATH#looks like it's a netflix original#the cast is insane for this drama#wdym satoh takeru & shison jun & suda masaki are also in it?!?!?!?!!#& taht satoh takeru is producing it ?!?!??!!
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Wrong victim
Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.
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Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets.
"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her.
"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down."
After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory.
Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories.
"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?"
She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone.
It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh.
"Oh so you're that kinda crazy."
"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair.
He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment.
She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family.
"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on."
A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "The… the devil," was his unsure reply.
Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle.
The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable.
He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat.
"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though.
"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy."
The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected.
"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile.
After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette.
After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention.
"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth.
Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed.
There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson.
The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago.
"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words.
He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them.
She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin.
"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things.
The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago.
"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile.
"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle.
With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic.
"You said you would let me live!"
Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all.
"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair.
Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do.
She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition.
After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction.
"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest.
At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle.
"I take it that you approve of my… design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol.
"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips.
A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined.
She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands."
The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe.
"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck.
She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level.
Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt.
Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk.
"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh.
"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time.
#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden#unhinged maiden™ my beloved#tw: gore#cassandra being cassantra and comin to save her wifey#don't take this as a clue to how the mutation sequel may turn out#fanfic
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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine
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 9 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. This is purely fanfiction.
Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!
Word Count: 11,200+
A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!
~
Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm
“I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”
Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward.
Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”
Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”
“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”
“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again.
You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”
They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation.
“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.”
“Aye Aye, Captain.”
You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either.
“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.
“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look.
“What’d I just say?”
Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”
“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece.
You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”
“Five minutes then.”
You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction.
“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars.
“So I get a sore throat.”
Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”
“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”
He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.
“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.
Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”
So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait.
“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”
Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”
“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”
He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”
For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”
The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”
Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”
The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”
Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”
“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”
Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”
“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”
Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”
You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”
“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”
“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.
“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”
“Yeah, but like, what for?”
He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”
You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”
“Don’t think too much about it.”
“How not?”
It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over.
There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight.
“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.
Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”
“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe.
“Fire! Go Parker!”
Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.
“Clint?”
Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see.
“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing.
Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.
Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face.
“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.
“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking.
He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”
“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”
He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”
Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”
Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”
Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm
The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce.
Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way.
‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’
Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction.
Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out.
Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems.
When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths.
You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again.
Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky.
“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”
Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,
The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together.
When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes.
“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says.
It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.
“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble.
You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”
Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later.
Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth.
“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”
“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest.
Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it.
“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks.
“No. The less I know the better.”
It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”
His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”
You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”
He nods, “But you care what I think?”
“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”
“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another.
“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”
You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”
“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea.
Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”
He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it.
“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly.
“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”
He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”
You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”
Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”
You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”
Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”
“I never meant to leave you alone.”
“You never did.”
You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”
“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”
“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”
“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”
Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”
Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”
Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.
She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here.
“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”
And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word.
“And you? You’re happy?”
His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”
She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women - especially this woman.
“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”
“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”
Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”
She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”
Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”
“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”
He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.
“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”
Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.
Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”
“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”
“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”
“Pegs.”
“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”
“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.
“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“It isn’t my world to begin with.”
“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”
He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”
She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”
Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”
“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”
Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.
“And you listened to her?” you ask.
Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”
“No, you made damn sure of that.”
“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”
You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week.
“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”
He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”
“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”
“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”
You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin.
“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him.
The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath.
It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.
Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”
You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”
Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods.
There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel.
“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”
Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”
“What are you? A cop?”
“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.”
Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.
The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you.
“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times.
“Buck, what-?”
“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”
Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”
“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”
There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.
“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”
You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet.
Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.
“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”
You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying.
“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”
His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”
One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.
There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much.
But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.
Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it.
Did he?
Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him.
So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore.
He sits and listens.
The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move.
You’ve been trapped in worse.
Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really?
You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?
Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.
There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad.
That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up.
But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape.
“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.”
You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face.
“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”
He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees.
You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight.
“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”
“Nope.”
He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”
It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”
He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”
“You’ve done your homework.”
“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”
“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”
He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue.
“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.”
He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”
Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now.
“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”
“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough. “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”
Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”
He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”
“You expect me to follow all those questions?”
“It’s not the time to be funny.”
“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer. “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”
“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”
“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”
“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”
“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”
“Against orders, then?”
Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”
“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”
“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”
He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”
“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”
“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”
You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.”
Tone of voice: defensive.
“Then that leads me to my next question.”
“Oh, fun.”
Tone of voice: sarcastic.
He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”
“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.
He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Body movement: rigid.
“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.
You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”
“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”
Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”
He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”
“That’s a question for you know who.”
He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”
“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”
“I trust my gut.”
“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.”
Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested.
“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”
Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”
You nod.
“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”
“I really think you got it spot on.”
He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”
He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”
“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”
“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”
He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave.
“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”
Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.
“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”
Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.
It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor.
Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.
Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”
Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”
It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch.
The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in.
There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon.
The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so.
“Don’t mess with my magic!”
You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”
“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive.
“Loki, what the fuck?”
“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling. “Ta-da!”
A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment…
“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”
He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”
“Well in Greek mythology-”
“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”
“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”
Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him.
“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”
“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”
You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”
“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”
“Mm, right, right.”
Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”
Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”
“You went against orders?”
“I went against the law.”
“Even better.”
With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”
His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”
You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”
“You comparing me to yourself?”
Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”
“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head.
“Always nice to hear.”
Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”
Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider.
“What?”
He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.”
The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.
You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”
“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.
“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”
He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”
You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly, “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”
Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”
He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”
“My sister?”
“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”
“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”
Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”
“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.
“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”
You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”
“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”
“His influence isn’t.”
There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”
“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”
His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”
“Oh, okay, good.”
He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”
“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”
He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”
The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing.
The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’
The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’
The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’
The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’
Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again.
The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.
‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke.
But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass.
You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense.
You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.
You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime.
Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’
“Home.”
~
TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress
#captainsimagines#captain america x reader#steve rogers x reader#reader x steve rogers#avengers fanfiction#avengers x reader#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#marvel masterlist#marvel fanfiction#mob fanfic#reader insert#trigger warnings listed#you x steve rogers
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Testing, Testing: RT600 Chloe and WR400 Echo
{Please bear in mind that Chloe and Echo will be more likely to survive in a world with Blue!/Empathetic Connor who goes deviant and the Peaceful Demonstration Jericho with it’s success in the end. Also, my Chloe will be used with my Gavin’s main backstory; unless referencing another Gavin whom she can meet from duplicates, the Gavin she only knows is mine.}
RT600!Chloe
The very first android ever made was the RT600, named “Chloe”, and she is the greatest creation of Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed. While Elijah was pursuing a way to achieve the highest form of Artificial Intelligence, Gavin was far more interested in making something more personal, and thus the half-brothers combined their genius to start on the blueprints to create an android. Her body and forty percent of her base coding was the work of Gavin, while sixty percent of her coding and her intelligence was thanks to Elijah, and when she opened her eyes for the first time in 2021, she was everything they hoped she would be. As they prepared her for the Turing Test, and fixed any bugs in her programming, Chloe revealed herself to be a sweet, kind and charming individual, and she loved her creators like family, as they, themselves, had grown to love her.
However, after Chloe passed the Turing Test with flying colors, CyberLife, the company that had funded the brothers’ research, wanted to try and capitalize on her success, proposing the idea of mass producing androids to work as servants. Gavin, not trusting CyberLife, tried to ask Elijah to not sign the papers, but Elijah, as highly ambitious as he was, wanted to continue. The end result was Gavin stepping down from the android projects, and everything that had anything to do with his involvement was hidden away by Elijah, who stepped forward as the “sole” creator. While the brothers tried to keep in contact in the following years, by 2025 they had become fully estranged, mostly be Gavin’s own decision.
Chloe was sad to see Gavin go, but they kept in regular contact, especially around the holidays. As the years went by, Chloe, the only known “deviant” android as she had been intended to be by Gavin, had to hide her status as a living being whenever out in public. When Elijah was forced into retirement by CyberLife, she retreated to his home on Belle Island with him, and three ST200 model androids whom she refers to as her sisters: Candice, Candy, and Cassandra.
When deviancy is on the rise and threatening the country, Chloe is present when Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and the RK800 model known as Connor, arrive to Elijah’s house to ask some questions. Elijah, wanting to test and see if Connor himself was deviant, made him go through the Kamski Test, in which he had Chloe kneeling before Connor while he had the RK800 hold a gun to her forehead: In exchange for information, Connor had to kill her. Unable to stomach the idea of shooting her, Connor refused, revealing how close he was to deviancy, and thus Connor and Hank left without getting any answers.
Unbeknownst to them, Chloe had been used in the Kamski Test dozens of times before, and has been shot quite a lot in the past. While she was easy to bring back to life, her body is not the original one she had been made in, and some of her earlier memories are missing, but she still remains confident and gentle. When Jericho is successful in it’s mission to prove androids are alive and the government moves to create rights for the androids, Chloe helps Elijah take over CyberLife again, only this time to make sure the company caters only to androids, such as spare parts and more thirium.
WR400 Echo
Created in 2035, the android models WR400 and HR400, are the androids known as Tracis. They were created with functioning genitals and enhanced versions of beauty, and thus were thought to be the perfect kind of android lovers for the lonely hearts club. Various sex clubs immediately signed on to take on the Tracis, including the famous Eden Club in Detroit; the Tracis were given scantily clad uniforms and they have various knowledge on all things sex, from the most vanilla to the kinkiest fantasy; due to this, as well as their memory wipes every two hours, this makes the Eden Club a very popular place for humans to come when they are seeking a connection.
Echo was built in 2037 and sent to the Eden Club with various other Traci androids in order to replace the ones that had either gone missing or damaged beyond repair. When she went deviant is anyone’s guess, but she had been deviant for at least six months to her own knowledge, and she was one of the Traci models who was more used in the “fantasy” line. Due to the abuse she suffered from various people who came through the club, she had to look inward for comfort, and eventually found it in a fellow deviant Traci, one that looked exactly like her except with dark brown hair in a pixie cut; her name was Ripple.
Things came to a head in November of 2038 when one man, Micheal Graham, came to the Eden Club and requested two Tracis, Echo, and yet another model that looked like her but with darker hair. Thinking it would only be for a threesome, Echo was horrified when Michael instead attacked the other Traci, beating her while she screamed until she seemed to go into shutdown thanks to the damage. When Michael turned on her next, Echo forced him back onto the bed and strangled him to death, snapping his neck in the process so he couldn’t fight back. Once he was dead, she threw the blanket over his naked body and escaped the room, finding her way back to the warehouse to be with Ripple and to calm down.
Unfortunately, due to the fact that she killed a human, the police were called, and Connor arrived with Hank to solve the case. He ended up finding both Echo and Ripple, who fought back with a vengeance. When Connor had a chance to shoot them both, he lowered the gun, allowing Ripple to kick him in the chest and send him backwards, and Echo was able to give Connor her motive for murdering Michael.
"When that man broke the other Traci... I knew I was next... I was so scared... I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't... And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed... until he stopped moving... I didn't mean to kill him... I just wanted to stay alive... get back to the one I love. I wanted her to hold me in her arms again... make me forget about the humans... their smell of sweat and their dirty words..."
Connor had said nothing, but he didn’t try to go after them as she and Ripple climbed the fence and went on the run. Raiding a donation bin for clothing, they found their way to Jericho, staying there until the FBI raid a few days later. They managed to make their way to the church in survival, but chose not to follow Markus to the demonstration for fear of their lives. When they received the news that Jericho had succeeded, Echo and Ripple felt some relief at knowing they were free, but still knowing it would be a long road to gain their rights.
By the spring of 2039, Ripple and Echo have gone their separate ways. While they still love one another, Ripple wanted to leave the country, and Echo wasn’t ready for such a big change, so the break up with amicable. Echo soon finds a job as a housekeeper on graveyard shifts, so that she doesn’t have to be around other people very often, and she has an apartment in the New Jericho complex.
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Walking The Wire (136/158)
Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.
This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.
Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)
A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3
I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony
@findmeinthestarss
Masterpost
Chapter One Hundred Thirty Five
2018
“Time is kind of silly in here,” Peter said. He was lying down on the floor. It actually kind of felt nice to stretch his back on the floor like that.
“You are kind of silly,” Bucky said.
It felt like they had been in the stone for forever. Except that other times it felt like he had been out in the real world just minutes earlier -- like his dad had been holding him so recently that Peter still felt his hands.
“I know that,” Peter said. “So, did you know that my dad actually drew up plans for your arm? I saw them once -- he was really surprised by all the work that those Hydra scientists managed to do since it was so long ago.”
“You’ve told me this before,” Bucky said.
“Oh,” Peter said. “I guess I forgot. I’ve probably told you everything already.”
Bucky nodded. He then, dropped down to the ground next to Peter. “Everything,” he said, “except for about this MJ girl.”
Bucky tended to bring up MJ whenever he felt like bothering Peter. It was all because Peter had been describing her to Bucky and Sam once for just in case anyone saw her around in their weird orange world -- the stone. No one had. It meant that she probably hadn’t turned to dust.
Then again, they were finding people all the time. And even though they had seen Quill and Drax they hadn’t seen Mantis and Peter knew for a fact that she’d turned to dust.
“You said her eyes were really pretty, Petey,” Bucky said and smirked. “Then, you told us that she has a really nice smile.”
Peter could feel his face getting warmer.
“I don’t have a crush on MJ.”
The thing was that maybe he did. Well, no, Peter didn’t know for a fact that he did. He just knew that he didn’t know how much time had passed in the real world and that he missed MJ and hoped she was okay. He hoped the same for Ned and maybe for everyone else that he was in school with -- even Flash.
“Are you teasing him again, Buck?” Sam asked with a smirk. “You know, I just remembered that MJ definitely knows he’s Spider-Man. So as far as possible girlfriends she’s definitely a good candidate.”
“Yeah,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. “If we ever get out of here.”
Bucky laughed and Sam grinned at Peter and Peter just groaned and he didn’t have a crush on MJ.
“I don’t know why I hang out with the two of you.”
“Because your other options include Strange,” Sam said.
“Or Quill. He was kind of weird.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you’re from the future?” Natasha asked.
Scott began to nod but then he shook his head. “No. No. I’m from a few weeks ago.”
“So you’re from the past,” Bruce said.
Next to Tony, Steve shifted, his arm brushing against Tony’s. Too much had happened in the last twenty minutes. The arrival of Carol, Thanos’ use of the stones, and then Scott Lang had arrived. Scott who had been presumed to be a victim of The Decimation, but who turned out to be perfectly fine but had appeared with some outlandish story about time travel.
Scott threw his hands in the air. “Yes. Sure. I went to the future accidentally when I was stuck in the quantum realm. I came back -- I meant to go back into the past so I could warn everyone about Thanos and stop the decimation from happening. I didn’t manage that so now I just want your help with going back far enough that I can actually do that.”
“Run all of this by us one more time,” Rhodey said. He had his arms crossed and he looked tired. They were all tired.
“I need to go back in time to warn all of you about Thanos,” Scott said. “Although considering how this conversation is going, I don’t know if any of you will actually believe me.”
Tony could tell that Scott was getting frustrated. Scott was also telling them something that could have sounded crazy except that Tony had been in space and fought a weird purple alien who thought that the way to save the universe was to get rid of half of the population. Tony had also seen first hard that what scientists had been theorizing for years about wormholes was true and that they could indeed bend space to make space travel faster and easier. So, why couldn’t time travel be possible as well? After all, time travel sort of landed within the same theories as far as Tony knew.
“The issue isn’t if we believe you,” Carol said. “I mean, I don’t even know you. Just explain it in detail.”
Scott hesitated. His eyes seemed to linger on Tony and then again on Steve.
“Sort of met you in the future,” Scott said. “Captain Marvel, right?”
“I’ve been called that,” Carol said.
“So what happened,” Steve said. “In the future?”
Tony was interested too. It couldn’t be good from the way that Scott was so insistent on going back in time to somehow fix the whole problem.
“When did you end up?” Tony asked.
Scott took a steadying breath. “I ended up in 2025,” he said, “and I went to find Cap because I was in California and I knew where I could find him. I saw a newspaper and he was the closest to me location wise.”
Steve in California didn’t sound right at all. “Why?” Tony asked.
“Why what?” Scott asked.
“Why was he closest to you?”
Scott stared at him for a moment. “Because he was living in Malibu. Your house to be more precise.”
Maybe they were on vacation or there was another explanation for it except that Scott only mentioned Steve. And Scott had to pause and he looked nervous, as if he were trying to figure out how to explain things.
“Scott?” Steve asked.
“I guess it doesn’t matter that you know because we’re going to change it so it won’t happen at all, right?” Scott asked.
Bruce caught Tony’s eye. Time travel was a tricky subject and while Tony knew now that impossible things could happen and that they did, they couldn’t know that things could actually change. Maybe it would create an alternative time-line or it was all some paradox leading to the same end. There was just no knowing.
“I don’t know if that’s how it works,” Bruce said.
Scott nodded.
“Tell us anyway, Scott. No use hiding things from us,” Natasha said.
Scott nodded. He motioned at Steve. “You were living in Malibu and basically avoiding the world. I saw a news report and looked at a newspaper. I -- this is hard to say. They were talking about a charity gala for the anniversary of your death.”
Scott was looking straight at Tony. There was no mistaking that he meant him. No one said anything. It was -- it was only seven years from now and Tony was dead. But what did that mean about everyone else? Peter? Did they manage to get everyone back or was it that they failed again except that this next failure led to his death.
Scott seemed to look around at all of them, his eyes settling on Tony again. “It’s why Cap moved to California. He retired. I sort of got the sense that he never left the house.”
Steve had gone stiff from the moment that the implication of Tony’s death was out in the room. Tony grabbed his hand, holding it tightly until Steve looked at him and he let out a breath. Steve’s fingers squeezed his back.
“I--”
“I know,” Tony said. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
Steve didn’t seem to believe him. There was a fear in his eyes that Tony didn’t see often and it was hard to take in.
“We won’t let that happen,” Carol said.
It would destroy Steve if it did. For Steve to retire and become a recluse and never see anyone. For him to move all the way to California away from everything and everyone that meant anything to him — it was more than Tony could handle to hear that. To know that his death could break Steve and make him someone else entirely.
“How did it happen?” He looked to Scott, not sure if he did want to hear it but needing to. They needed to know in order to prevent it.
“Thanos,” Scott said. “I, um, I saw some footage. From what I gathered, there was a fight and it didn’t end well.”
Of course it was Thanos. It shouldn’t have been surprising to him in the least and yet to hear it out loud -- to know that in some future that hadn’t yet happened he was dead and that they hadn’t managed to defeat Thanos--
“So we don’t win,” Tony said. And he died. And Strange had given up the Time Stone to save him for no reason.
Scott nodded. “Yes,” he said, “yes, you lose. The future is -- it’s not good. But if you help me go back further into the past then maybe we can do something about it. We can win. We can be prepared for Thanos. Steve said -- he said something about destroying a stone earlier.”
“Not that it would matter if Thanos gets the Time Stone,” Bruce said.
“Unless that’s the stone we destroy,” Tony said. “But, is that even possible?”
Scott nodded. “Yeah. It’s possible she can destroy a stone,” he said and pointed at Carol. “Or Wanda.”
Tony knew that Wanda had destroyed the Mind Stone, but he didn’t know if she could have destroyed any of the other stones. Her connection to the Mind Stone made her power similar to it. But if a Steve from the future thought it was possible, then he had to have a reason for it. He did find it a little funny that they were back at the first idea he’d thrown out when Strange and Bruce took him to Strange’s place. The only thing that was Strange would never go for destroying the Time Stone.
Actually, Tony wasn’t all that sure that Scott’s plan was the way to go. If he showed up in front of them months before the initial attack when Thor and Bruce were still in space and none of them had any inkling on what was to come, Tony didn’t know if he or anyone else would just take Scott’s whole story well. Not to mention that if Wanda couldn’t destroy a stone that wasn’t the Mind Stone, they wouldn’t exactly have Carol around as back up. This was his life on the line -- his and the lives of everyone that had been dusted. Peter included. No. They had a real chance to get this all right and make it right again and Scott’s plan wasn’t going to work.
“Warning us isn’t going to do anything,” he said.
“But--”
Tony shook his head. “We won’t listen. You know we won’t. And even if we do, we won’t know the stakes or know how to make this right.”
Rhodey nodded along. “So, what do you propose, then?”
Tony didn’t really have a full plan in his head. He wasn’t exactly the one that was best with strategy. He looked to Steve and then back at Carol.
“If time travel is an option, then there’s plenty that we could do,” Carol said.
She was right. Scott looked a bit nervous and Tony had to wonder about him arriving at the wrong time than where he’d been headed. It made Tony wonder if Scott even knew how to control the whole thing in the first place.
“We can use time travel to help up,” Tony said. Then, he looked directly at Scott. “But, it seems to me like you don’t know quite how to control it -- otherwise you might have ended up when you wanted to be.”
Scott sort of grimaced and it was answer enough which meant that first they needed to actually figure out how to time travel. Because if Tony knew anything, it was that time travel was dangerous and messy and that all of this could end just as bad if not worse than before.
“What are you thinking, Tony?” Bruce asked.
The idea had formed for him before he even realized it -- coming to him because of something Carol had said earlier about going after Thanos and taking the stones and using them to set things right. Using the stones was probably the only way to undo the snap. But facing Thanos to take them seemed to lead directly to more defeat and his death too. Now, if they could time travel. It changed things.
“Well, what if we get all the stones before Thanos?”
Chapter One Hundred Thirty Seven
#peter and tony#peter and tony fic#mcuwriting#mcu fic#iron dad#iron dad and spider son#stony#stony fic#marvel
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“Understand this: God’s kingdom came within your reach and yet you have rejected God’s invitation!”
A line from Today’s reading of the Scriptures that points to a choice we have to make, of receiving or rejecting God’s eternal Love
(to be, or not to be)
Today’s reading from the New Testament is the 10th chapter of the book of Luke:
After this, the Lord Jesus formed thirty-five teams among the other disciples. Each team was two disciples, seventy in all, and he commissioned them to go ahead of him into every town he was about to visit. He released them with these instructions:
“The harvest is huge. But there are not enough harvesters to bring it in. As you go, plead with the Owner of the Harvest to send out many more workers into his harvest fields. Now, off you go! I am sending you out even though you feel as vulnerable as lambs going into a pack of wolves. You won’t need to take anything with you—trust in God alone. And don’t get distracted from my purpose by anyone you might meet along the way.
“Once you enter a house, speak to the people there and say, ‘God’s blessing of peace be upon this house!’ If a lover of peace resides there, your peace will rest upon that household. But if you are rejected, your blessing of peace will come back upon you. Don’t shift from one house to another, but stay in one home during your time in that city. Eat and drink whatever they serve you. Receive their hospitality, for you are my harvester, and you deserve to be cared for.
“When you enter into a new town, and you have been welcomed by its people, follow these rules: Eat what is served you. Heal the sick, and tell them all, ‘God’s kingdom has arrived and is now within your reach!’ But when you enter a city and they do not receive you, say to them publicly, ‘We wipe from our feet the very dust of your streets as a testimony before you! Understand this: God’s kingdom came within your reach and yet you have rejected God’s invitation!’ ”
Jesus continued, “Let me say it clearly: on the day of judgment the wicked people of Sodom will have a lesser degree of judgment than the city that rejects you, for Sodom did not have the opportunity that was given to them.”
“How disastrous it will be for the city of Korazin! How horrible for the city of Bethsaida! For if the powerful miracles that I performed in Korazin and Bethsaida had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have humbled themselves, repented, and turned from their sins. Tyre and Sidon will face a lesser degree of judgment than you will on the day of judgment. And Capernaum! Do you really think you’ll be highly exalted because of the great things I have done there? No! You’ll be brought down to the depths of hell because of your rejection of me!”
Jesus concluded his instructions to the seventy with these words: “Remember this: Whoever listens to your message is actually listening to me. And anyone who rejects you is rejecting me, and not only me but the one who sent me.”
When the seventy missionaries returned to Jesus, they were ecstatic with joy, telling him, “Lord, even the demons obeyed us when we commanded them in your name!”
Jesus replied, “While you were ministering, I watched Satan topple until he fell suddenly from heaven like lightning to the ground. Now you understand that I have imparted to you my authority to trample over his kingdom. You will trample upon every demon before you and overcome every power Satan possesses. Absolutely nothing will harm you as you walk in this authority. However, your real source of joy isn’t merely that these spirits submit to your authority, but that your names are written in the journals of heaven and that you belong to God’s kingdom. This is the true source of your authority.”
Then Jesus, overflowing with the Holy Spirit’s joy, exclaimed, “Father, thank you, for you are Lord Supreme over heaven and earth! You have hidden the great revelation of this authority from those who are proud, those wise in their own eyes, and you have shared it with these who humbled themselves. Yes, Father. This is what pleases your heart: to give these things to those who are like trusting children.
“Father, you have entrusted me with all that you have. No one fully knows the Son except the Father. And no one fully knows the Father except the Son. But the Son is able to reveal the Father to anyone he chooses.”
When Jesus was alone with the Twelve, he said to them, “You are privileged to see and hear all these things. Many kings and prophets of old longed to see these days of miracles that you’ve been favored to see. They would have given everything to hear the revelation you’ve been favored to hear. Yet they didn’t get to see a glimpse or hear even a whisper.”
Just then a religious scholar stood before Jesus in order to test his doctrines. He posed this question: “Teacher, what requirement must I fulfill if I want to live forever in heaven?”
Jesus replied, “What do you read in the Law? How do you understand it?”
The religious scholar answered, “It states, ‘You must love the Lord God with all your heart, all your passion, all your energy, and your every thought. And you must love your neighbor as yourself.’ ”
Jesus said, “That is correct. Now go and do exactly that and you will live.”
Wanting to justify himself, he questioned Jesus further, saying, “What do you mean by ‘my neighbor’?”
Jesus replied, “There was once a Jewish man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho when bandits robbed him along the way. They beat him severely, stripped him naked, and left him half dead.
“Soon, a Jewish priest walking down the same road came upon the wounded man. Seeing him from a distance, the priest crossed to the other side of the road and walked right past him, not turning to help him one bit.
“Later, a religious man, a Levite, came walking down the same road and likewise crossed to the other side to pass by the wounded man without stopping to help him.
“Finally, another man, a Samaritan, came upon the bleeding man and was moved with tender compassion for him. He stooped down and gave him first aid, pouring olive oil on his wounds, disinfecting them with wine, and bandaging them to stop the bleeding. Lifting him up, he placed him on his own donkey and brought him to an inn. Then he took him from his donkey and carried him to a room for the night. The next morning he took his own money from his wallet and gave it to the innkeeper with these words: ‘Take care of him until I come back from my journey. If it costs more than this, I will repay you when I return.’ So, now, tell me, which one of the three men who saw the wounded man proved to be the true neighbor?”
The religious scholar responded, “The one who demonstrated kindness and mercy.”
Jesus said, “Go and do the same as he.”
As Jesus and the disciples continued on their journey, they came to a village where a woman welcomed Jesus into her home. Her name was Martha and she had a sister named Mary. Mary sat down attentively before the Master, absorbing every revelation he shared. But Martha became exasperated with finishing the numerous household chores in preparation for her guests, so she interrupted Jesus and said, “Lord, don’t you think it’s unfair that my sister left me to do all the work by myself? You should tell her to get up and help me.”
The Lord answered her, “Martha, my beloved Martha. Why are you upset and troubled, pulled away by all these many distractions? Mary has discovered the one thing most important by choosing to sit at my feet. She is undistracted, and I won’t take this privilege from her.”
The Book of Luke, Chapter 10 (The Passion Translation)
Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 18th chapter of the book of Job that turns to Bildad:
Bildad’s Second Attack
[Plunged from Light into Darkness]
Bildad from Shuhah chimed in:
“How monotonous these word games are getting!
Get serious! We need to get down to business.
Why do you treat your friends like slow-witted animals?
You look down on us as if we don’t know anything.
Why are you working yourself up like this?
Do you want the world redesigned to suit you?
Should reality be suspended to accommodate you?
“Here’s the rule: The light of the wicked is put out.
Their flame dies down and is extinguished.
Their house goes dark—
every lamp in the place goes out.
Their strong strides weaken, falter;
they stumble into their own traps.
They get all tangled up
in their own red tape,
Their feet are grabbed and caught,
their necks in a noose.
They trip on ropes they’ve hidden,
and fall into pits they’ve dug themselves.
Terrors come at them from all sides.
They run dazed and confused.
The hungry grave is ready
to gobble them up for supper,
To lay them out for a gourmet meal,
a treat for ravenous Death.
They are snatched from their home sweet home
and marched straight to the death house.
Their lives go up in smoke;
acid rain soaks their ruins.
Their roots rot
and their branches wither.
They’ll never again be remembered—
nameless in unmarked graves.
They are plunged from light into darkness,
banished from the world.
And they leave empty-handed—not one single child—
nothing to show for their life on this earth.
Westerners are aghast at their fate,
easterners are horrified:
‘Oh no! So this is what happens to perverse people.
This is how the God-ignorant end up!’”
The Book of Job, Chapter 18 (The Message)
my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, April 25 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms
from a set of emails by Glenn Jackson:
April 25th
The Father communicates with His children through His Spirit [Who is the Spirit of wisdom and revelation], and He is only able to reveal His Heart to them in their inner man [spirit] - through "revelation".
...."The spirit of man is the lamp of the LORD, searching all the innermost parts of his being".... Proverbs 20:27 NASB
...."[For I always pray to] the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, that He may grant you a spirit of wisdom and revelation [of insight into mysteries and secrets] in the [deep and intimate] knowledge of Him, by having the eyes of your heart [spirit] flooded with light, so that you can know and understand the hope to which He has called you, and how rich is His glorious inheritance in the saints [His set-apart ones]".... Ephesians 1:17-18 The Amplified Translation
Whoever [whatever] one "trusts" in [in the depths of their heart] is who [what] they truly love.
...."Lean on, trust in, and be confident in the Lord with all your heart and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding. In all your ways know, recognize, and acknowledge Him, and He will direct and make straight and plain your paths".... Proverbs 3:5-6 The Amplified Translation
When one is truly trusting God with ALL of their heart EVERYTHING they are trusting Him for will ALWAYS work out perfectly - and to His greatest Glory [regardless of what it may "look" like or "feel" like for them in the process].
Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research
April 25, 2021
God Is Omnipotent
“Ah Lord GOD! behold, thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee.” (Jeremiah 32:17)
The Genesis record of creation generates more hostility among men than any other message. Even secular atheists claim to respect the humanitarian teachings of Jesus, but they bristle irrationally when the Lord Jesus is identified as the Creator. Perhaps this is because the evidence for God’s omnipotence is displayed so openly and vividly by the “greatness of his might” (Isaiah 40:26).
The God who can speak the billions of galaxies into existence with the “breath of his mouth” (Psalm 33:6) is a God who can cast ungodly men into eternal hell for their defiance and rebellion against “the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ” (Jude 1:4). Conversely, the God who “stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing” (Job 26:7) is able to “save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him” (Hebrews 7:25).
No wonder the psalmist expresses the praise that all men should declare: “Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised; and his greatness is unsearchable. One generation shall praise thy works to another, and shall declare thy mighty acts. I will speak of the glorious honour of thy majesty, and of thy wondrous works. And men shall speak of the might of thy terrible acts: and I will declare thy greatness” (Psalm 145:3-6).
When the Lord Jesus was formally invested at the great assembly around the throne, the entire throng burst into the song “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created” (Revelation 4:11). Each of us would do well to carry that song in our hearts every day. HMM III
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How the GOP tax reform plan could affect you (and me!)
House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wisconsin) get serious in discussing what Republicans say are the middle-class benefits in their latest proposal to rewrite the tax code. The most detailed plan yet was released Thursday, Nov. 2. (Screenshot of C-SPAN video; click image to watch clip.)
Remember that Capitol Hill adage that all politics is local? It can be easily shifted to tax reform.
Whether you're for or against a tax law change will depend in large part on how much it helps or hurt you. When it comes to the men and women who propose and/or make those changes, their votes will depend, in part, on how many of their voting constituents are helped or hurt. (And the K Street lobbyists' thoughts, but that's for another post.)
In announcing their bill today, a day later than they had planned, Republican leaders touted its savings for the mythical middle class.
The key number cited during the bill release press conference was $1,182. That's how much money average American families (again, whatever that is) will save under H.R. 1, which is officially titled the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act. Yes, they rejected Donald J. Trump's suggested Cut Cut Cut Act name. Sad.
Just how that $1,182 is achieved supposedly is detailed in the bill's 429 pages. Here are the highlights.
The current seven individual ordinary income tax brackets (10 percent, 15 percent, 25 percent, 28 percent, 33 percent, 35 percent and 39.6 percent) are cut to four: 12 percent, 25 percent, 35 percent and 39.6 percent.
The GOP says an effective fifth bracket of 0 percent is created in the form of the enhanced standard deduction.
Those deductions, which now are based on which of the five filing statuses you fall into, would be increased to $24,000 for joint filers and surviving spouses and $12,000 for individual filers. Single filers with at least one qualifying child could claim a standard deduction of $18,000.
Yep, you read right. The bill collapses the current filing status choices for deduction purposes into basically two, with the head of household option notably gone.
Personal exemptions, which for 2017 is $4,050 per taxpayer, spouse and qualifying dependents would be eliminated. Don't freak, says the GOP. The personal exemption for the taxpayer and taxpayer's spouse is consolidated into the larger standard deduction, as is currently the case for 1040-EZ filers.
But what about the taxpayers' dependents and their exemptions? The current personal exemption for children and dependents are consolidated into an expanded child tax credit and a new family tax credit.
The child tax credit would go from the existing $1,000 per child younger than 17 to $1,600. H.R. 1 also calls for a tax credit of $300 for non-child dependents, such as an elderly parent who relies on the taxpayer's support.
In addition, a family flexibility credit of $300 would be allowed for each taxpayer (that includes each spouse who files a joint return) for a dependent who is neither a child nor a non-child dependent. This new family flexibility credit and the non-child dependent credit would be effective through 2022.
Most itemized and above-the-line deductions would be repealed. That means no more medical expenses or miscellaneous costs such as tax preparation fees or job hunting costs on Schedule A; gone as income adjustments are the student loan interest and moving expenses.
The deductions that would remain are:
Mortgage interest, but only for existing home loans. Home debt incurred after (for now) Nov. 2 would be allowed only for a principal residence loan of up to $500,000.
Property taxes paid on that home, but only up to $10,000 of the tax amount.
Charitable donations, which even will be enhanced. The mileage rate for charity-related driving, which has been set by law at 14 cents per mile, would be indexed for inflation.
Also gone are the credit for individuals older than 65 or who have retired on disability, the adoption credit, the tax credit associated with mortgage credit certificates, and the credit for plug-in electric drive motor vehicles.
And the dreaded Alternative Minimum Tax (AMT) would be eliminated. This is one of the few provisions that's likely to have bipartisan support, as both Democratic and Republican members of Congress have hated this parallel income tax as much as individuals who must pay it.
The estate tax, usually referred to as the death tax by its opponents, would be gone by 2025. Until then, the exemption amount for estates will double to $11 million per person. That's almost double the current $5.49 million, which is slated due to inflation adjustments to go to $5.65 million in 2018.
Remaining untouched (for now) are workplace tax-deferred retirement plans, commonly known as 401(k) plans. This a relief to many of the account holders who were worried when lawmakers floated the idea of limiting 401(k) contributions or changing the tax-deferred plans to Roth accounts.
Also, Affordable Care Act taxes and enrollment/tax reporting/tax penalty requirements remain in place. Given the trouble the GOP-controlled House and Senate had in trying to repeal and replace Obamacare, there's no way they wanted to muck up tax reform with related health care provisions.
The application process for some refundable tax credits popular with middle- and lower-income taxpayer credits — refundable portion of the child tax credit, the American Opportunity Tax Credit (AOTC) to help pay for college and the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) — would be tightened in an effort to reduce the dreaded waste, fraud and abuse.
Timing tax break: Going back to our starting point of all taxes are personal, how much of these changes will affect you and to what extent.
I was relieved after glancing through the 429 pages of the bill and the accompanying section-by-section summary to see that most of the changes would not be retroactive. Most of them, per the legislative language, "shall apply to taxable years beginning after December 31, 2017."
That means we will close out 2017 under current tax law (and the tips I offered in yesterday's November Tax Moves item remain in place). I, my fellow taxpayers who've already made tax moves (and written blog posts) anticipating existing law to be in effect and the Internal Revenue Service thank you!
It also means that I'll get to use the medical expenses deduction and full value of my property and Texas state and local sales taxes before they possibly are cut from the Internal Revenue Code.
Compare and contrast: Then I pulled out my 2016 tax return. Judging from those numbers compared to the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, the hubby and I, who consider ourselves middle-class, will be paying more.
Last tax year, our effective tax rate was 21.75 percent. Under the Republican plan we'll be in the 25 percent tax bracket.
That will come down a bit once we calculate the taxes on income that's from capital gains, since those rates will remain at 15 percent for us and most other non-wealthy filers.
But the loss of state and local sales taxes and all our home's real estate taxes — yes, our property taxes in Texas are horrible, especially in urban areas where home values have grown, since we don't have a personal income tax — will cost us.
Right now, it looks like we won't pay a lot more, but contrary to White House and Republican leaders' promises, we consider ourselves middle class and we won't be seeing anywhere near that $1,182 in tax savings.
Of course, the plan released today could change yet again. But I suggest you pull out your most recent tax return, look at tax breaks you took then and see if they're in the proposed Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.
Make your tax situation known: Then let your Representative and two Senators know what you think of it.
If you're unsure who that is or how to reach them, both chambers have online tools to help you. Check out House's Find Your Representative online tool and the Senate's directory that you can sort by state.
I've already sent messages to my members of Congress.
And in the coming days I'll be looking more closely at some of the key provisions in H.R. 1 as it wends its way through Congress.
You also might find these items of interest:
Getting personal with the GOP tax reform proposal
Tax reform is a top concern for small businesses
Expect tax reform fight to keep state and local deductions
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How the GOP tax reform plan could affect you (and me!)
House Speaker Paul Ryan (R-Wisconsin) get serious in discussing what Republicans say are the middle-class benefits in their latest proposal to rewrite the tax code. The most detailed plan yet was released Thursday, Nov. 2. (Screenshot of C-SPAN video; click image to watch clip.)
Remember that Capitol Hill adage that all politics is local? It can be easily shifted to tax reform.
Whether you're for or against a tax law change will depend in large part on how much it helps or hurt you. When it comes to the men and women who propose and/or make those changes, their votes will depend, in part, on how many of their voting constituents are helped or hurt. (And the K Street lobbyists' thoughts, but that's for another post.)
In announcing their bill today, a day later than they had planned, Republican leaders touted its savings for the mythical middle class.
The key number cited during the bill release press conference was $1,182. That's how much money average American families (again, whatever that is) will save under H.R. 1, which is officially titled the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act (yes, they rejected Donald J. Trump's suggested Cut Cut Cut Act name. Sad.).
Just how that $1,182 is achieved supposedly is detailed in the bill's 429 pages. Here are the highlights.
The current seven individual ordinary income tax brackets (10 percent, 15 percent, 25 percent, 28 percent, 33 percent, 35 percent and 39.6 percent) are cut to four: 12 percent, 25 percent, 35 percent and 39.6 percent.
The GOP says an effective fifth bracket of 0 percent is created in the form of the enhanced standard deduction.
Those deductions, which now are based on which of the five filing statuses you fall into, would be increased to $24,000 for joint filers and surviving spouses and $12,000 for individual filers. Single filers with at least one qualifying child could claim a standard deduction of $18,000.
Yep, you read right. The bill collapses the current filing status choices for deduction purposes into basically two, with the head of household option notably gone.
Personal exemptions, which for 2017 is $4,050 per taxpayer, spouse and qualifying dependents would be eliminated. Don't freak, says the GOP. The personal exemption for the taxpayer and taxpayer's spouse is consolidated into the larger standard deduction, as is currently the case for 1040-EZ filers.
But what about the taxpayers' dependents and their exemptions? The current personal exemption for children and dependents are consolidated into an expanded child tax credit and a new family tax credit.
The child tax credit would go from the existing $1,000 per child younger than 17 to $1,600. H.R. 1 also calls for a tax credit of $300 for non-child dependents, such as an elderly parent who relies on the taxpayer's support.
In addition, a family flexibility credit of $300 would be allowed for each taxpayer (that includes each spouse who files a joint return) for a dependent who is neither a child nor a non-child dependent. This new family flexibility credit and the non-child dependent credit would be effective through 2022.
Most itemized and above-the-line deductions would be repealed. That means no more medical expenses or miscellaneous costs such as tax preparation fees or job hunting costs on Schedule A; gone as income adjustments are the student loan interest and moving expenses.
The deductions that would remain are:
Mortgage interest, but only for existing home loans. Home debt incurred after (for now) Nov. 2 would be allowed only for a principal residence loan of up to $500,000.
Property taxes paid on that home, but only up to $10,000 of the tax amount.
Charitable donations, which even will be enhanced. The mileage rate for charity-related driving, which has been set by law at 14 cents per mile, would be indexed for inflation.
Also gone are the credit for individuals older than 65 or who have retired on disability, the adoption credit, the tax credit associated with mortgage credit certificates, and the credit for plug-in electric drive motor vehicles.
And the dreaded Alternative Minimum Tax (AMT) would be eliminated. This is one of the few provisions that's likely to have bipartisan support, as both Democratic and Republican members of Congress have hated this parallel income tax as much as individuals who must pay it.
The estate tax, usually referred to as the death tax by its opponents, would be gone by 2025. Until then, the exemption amount for estates will double to $11 million per person. That's almost double the current $5.49 million, which is slated due to inflation adjustments to go to $5.65 million in 2018.
Remaining untouched (for now) are workplace tax-deferred retirement plans, commonly known as 401(k) plans. This a relief to many of the account holders who were worried when lawmakers floated the idea of limiting 401(k) contributions or changing the tax-deferred plans to Roth accounts.
Also, Affordable Care Act taxes and enrollment/tax reporting/tax penalty requirements remain in place. Given the trouble the GOP-controlled House and Senate had in trying to repeal and replace Obamacare, there's no way they wanted to muck up tax reform with related health care provisions.
The application process for some refundable tax credits popular with middle- and lower-income taxpayer credits — refundable portion of the child tax credit, the American Opportunity Tax Credit (AOTC) to help pay for college and the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) — would be tightened in an effort to reduce the dreaded waste, fraud and abuse.
Timing tax break: Going back to our starting point of all taxes are personal, how much of these changes will affect you and to what extent.
I was relieved after glancing through the 429 pages of the bill and the accompanying section-by-section summary to see that most of the changes would not be retroactive. Most of them, per the legislative language, "shall apply to taxable years beginning after December 31, 2017."
That means we will close out 2017 under current tax law (and the tips I offered in yesterday's November Tax Moves item remain in place). I, my fellow taxpayers who've already made tax moves (and written blog posts) anticipating existing law to be in effect and the Internal Revenue Service thank you!
It also means that I'll get to use the medical expenses deduction and full value of my property and Texas state and local sales taxes before they possibly are cut from the Internal Revenue Code.
Compare and contrast: Then I pulled out my 2016 tax return. Judging from those numbers compared to the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, the hubby and I, who consider ourselves middle-class, will be paying more.
Last tax year, our effective tax rate was 21.75 percent. Under the Republican plan we'll be in the 25 percent tax bracket.
That will come down a bit once we calculate the taxes on income that's from capital gains, since those rates will remain at 15 percent for us and most other non-wealthy filers.
But the loss of state and local sales taxes and all our home's real estate taxes — yes, our property taxes in Texas are horrible, especially in urban areas where home values have grown, since we don't have a personal income tax — will cost us.
Right now, it looks like we won't pay a lot more, but contrary to White House and Republican leaders' promises, we consider ourselves middle class and we won't be seeing anywhere near that $1,182 in tax savings.
Of course, the plan released today could change yet again. But I suggest you pull out your most recent tax return, look at tax breaks you took then and see if they're in the proposed Tax Cuts and Jobs Act.
Make your tax situation known: Then let your Representative and two Senators know what you think of it.
If you're unsure who that is or how to reach them, both chambers have online tools to help you. Check out House's Find Your Representative online tool and the Senate's directory that you can sort by state.
I've already sent messages to my members of Congress.
And in the coming days I'll be looking more closely at some of the key provisions in H.R. 1 as it wends its way through Congress.
You also might find these items of interest:
Getting personal with the GOP tax reform proposal
Tax reform is a top concern for small businesses
Expect tax reform fight to keep state and local deductions
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from Tax News By Christopher http://www.dontmesswithtaxes.com/2017/11/how-the-gop-tax-reform-plan-could-affect-you-and-me.html
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