#war flashbacks to answering asks like this all the time lMAO.
Note
Hi <3 No obligation to answer, I know dw lore is really convoluted and there's a lot of expanded universe material, but you've mentioned a few times that you think the War Chief is the Master. I'm also a War Chief/Master truther because I think that makes the contents of The War Games more fun and interesting (& also could count as another time the Master got the Doctor killed <3 romance <3) but I wanted to know if you had more reasons/examples from canon that supports that idea
anon i’d be delighted to talk abt the war chief!!! he’s My Guy <3 and (dare i say it?) possibly even one of my favorite incarnations of the master. i’ve got lots of quotes for you under the cut, but to give a short summary of So Why Do People Think the War Chief is the Master, Anyway?:
the war chief was introduced in the war games, written by malcolm hulke and terrance dicks. (dicks, it should be mentioned, was also co-creator of the master, with barry letts.) when hulke & dicks novelized the serials colony in space, terror of the autons, and the war games, they dropped several hints that the war chief and the master were the same man. so, the creators of the characters were the first to suggest a connection between them.
but, i hear you cry, didn’t dicks go on to write timewyrm: exodus, which shows us a future incarnation of the war chief that isn’t the master? yes, because the official editorial line for the vmas & vnas was that the war chief & the master were two distinct characters. this caused more than one writer that personally believed them to be the same to write otherwise professionally. however, i think dicks still dropped hints linking the two despite this editorial limitation.
and what about magnus, the guy who’s well-known in current fandom as the “academy era” version of the war chief? conceived of by gary russell, magnus was originally written as a young incarnation of the master, not the war chief. in flashback, goth opera and invasion of the cat-people, the character of magnus is a young master. so why did russell retcon his own character in divided loyalties to be the war chief instead? he did so out of respect for david mcintee, who had recently written a different backstory for the master in the dark path, using the name koschei. despite divided loyalties’ portrayal of magnus and koschei as separate characters, it actually in large part serves to conflate the two further, due to said retconning.
in faction paradox lore, the war king is a version of the master (i don’t need to make a post on that, do i?) that also was once the war chief.
and now we’re really getting murky canon-wise, but craig hinton’s rejected pda time’s champion (ultimately completed & published after his death, by chris mckeon) explicitly depicts the war chief as an incarnation as the master, as well as reasserting that magnus was the name the master used at the academy.
even with all this Evidence, i’m like you, anon — i just think it’s Fun. i mean, just look at the guy lmao. if you can’t see the way that future incarnations are riffing off him, idk what to tell you. and ultimately, it just makes the most sense to me. three & delgado’s first meeting doesn’t really strike me as a First Time Seeing You Since You Left kind of affair, but the way two & the war chief react to seeing each other? and the conversation they have abt it…? yeah. love it.
the ‘70s target novelizations
doctor who and the doomsday weapon (aka colony in space) was the first novelization to feature the master, and was written by malcolm hulke in 1974. it begins with a scene that doesn’t occur in the tv story, where a senile old time lord tells his apprentice about the theft of two tardises by a pair of time lords now calling themselves the doctor & the master:
“There have been two stolen, you know.”
The younger Time Lord didn’t know. “By our enemies?” he asked.
“No. By Time Lords. They both became bored with this place. It was too peaceful for them, not enough happening.” The old Keeper smiled to himself, as though remembering with some glee all the fuss when two TARDISes were stolen. “One of them nowadays calls himself ‘the Doctor.’ The other says he is ‘the Master.’”
if there have been only two tardises stolen (at this point), then where does that leave the other renegades we've seen on tv? well, the answer to that is that the target novelizations were meant to be self-contained, without prior knowledge of the show needed or past episodes taken into account. it’s easier and cleaner to present the doctor & the master as the only two renegades. except the older time lord continues, and a little further on says:
“There were tens of thousands of humans from the planet Earth, stranded on another planet where they thought they were re-fighting all the wars of Earth’s terrible history. The Doctor” — he interrupted himself — “I told you about him, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said the young Time Lord, now used to the old Keeper forgetting what he had already said. “You mentioned the Doctor and the Master.”
“No, it wasn’t the Master,” said the old Keeper in his confused way. “The Master never does anything good for anyone. He’s thoroughly evil. Now what was I saying?”
despite the self-contained nature of the novelizations, the events of the war games (which had yet to be novelized, when this was written) have occurred and are specifically brought up in relation to the doctor & the master. what does ‘it wasn't the master’ mean? the keeper’s confusion leaves it open to interpretation, but the fact that it’s brought up at all is quite a hint.
terrance dicks then wrote doctor who and the terror of the autons in 1975. additional info is added to the scene between the doctor and the time lord who comes to warn him about the master’s arrival on earth:
“As a matter of fact, I’ve come to bring you a warning. An old friend of yours has arrived on Earth.”
“One of our people? Who is it?”
The Time Lord pronounced a string of mellifluous syllables — one of the strange Time Lord names that are never disclosed to outsiders. Then he added, “These days he calls himself the Master.”
he uses the master’s gallifreyan name first, as if the doctor doesn’t know the name he’s now going by yet. then, we’re given a description of the master, including:
Already he had been behind several Interplanetary Wars, always disappearing from the scene before he could be caught. If ever he were caught, his fate would be far worse than the Doctor’s exile. Once captured by the Time Lords, the Master’s life-stream would be thrown into reverse. Not only would he no longer exist, he would never have existed. It was the severest punishment in the Time Lords’ power.
which brings to mind the war games, as the punishment described here is exactly what the time lords did to the war lord & what they would have done to the war chief, if he hadn’t died/escaped. and, speaking of that escape, the doctor asks:
“Is his TARDIS still working?”
“I’m afraid so. He got away before it could be de-energised.”
“Then he was luckier than I,” said the Doctor sadly. He had never really got used to his exile.
unlike the doctor, who was unable to get away from the time lords at the end of the war games, the master was ‘luckier.’ this could, of course, mean a more general escape from the time lords by the master, but i’d say all the hints here are pointing in the same direction.
in 1979, malcolm hulke wrote doctor who and the war games. the first conversation between the doctor and the war chief is slightly changed, and again it’s reiterated that there have only been two tardises stolen. first, the war chief teases the doctor about who he must be:
The War Chief took the Doctor into his private office just off the war room and told his bodyguards to leave.
“Now,” he said, “a traveller in a time-space machine. There is only one person you can be.”
“I had every right to leave,” said the Doctor.
“And to steal a TARDIS?” The War Chief smiled. “Not that I am criticising you. I left our people too. We are two of a kind.”
and later, he summarizes that their empire (their empire <3) will be secure because, again, they’re the only two with stolen tardises:
“Now I understand,” said the Doctor. “It’s my TARDIS that you want. But surely you have one of your own?”
The War Chief smiled. “No more mine than yours is really yours! We are both thieves, Doctor. Yes, I do have a TARDIS hidden away. But are not two better than one? While I rest and enjoy the spoils of victory, you can patrol our empire. And I shall do the same for you.”
“Our empire?”
“We shall rule the galaxy without fear of opposition,’ the War Chief said confidently. “For we shall be the only two who can travel through both space and time.”
this (very romantic imo) proposal is also, of course, very reminiscent of delgado’s ‘half-share in the universe’ proposal to three.
timewyrm: exodus by terrance dicks
in 1991, terrance dicks wrote a vna, timewyrm: exodus. in this novel, the war chief appears as a botched two-bodied regeneration after his death at the end of the war games, called dr. kriegslieter. no mention of the master is made. as i said before, i think this is down to virgin’s editorial policy, and i think there are hints connecting the two nonetheless. like when the doctor realizes who kriegslieter is:
And behind them, aiding them, manipulating them, giving them the time technology they needed, the Time Lord renegade who called himself the War Chief.
Or, in German, der kriegslieter.
“Well, he couldn’t have spelled it out for me much more plainly,” muttered the Doctor.
like, c’mon. it’s just classic master shenanigans to have your alias be an extremely obvious translation of your name. and then there's also kriegslieter’s plan, which is to steal the doctor's body to use as his own (complete with sexual innuendo):
“Once I have wrested from it the secret of the TARDIS, your mind will be of no further interest to me. But your body…”
“Please,” said the Doctor, looking embarrassed. “Ladies present.”
“We are both Time Lords, Doctor, our brains and our bodies are compatible. Regeneration therapy is far beyond the War Lord’s scientists, but even they can manage a simple brain transplant.”
Kriegslieter studied the Doctor with detached, clinical interest. “To be honest, it isn’t the body I would have chosen but it’s infinitely superior to the one I have. When all this is over Doctor, I shall be you — and you, or whatever shattered gibbering remnant of you is left, will be me. Appropriate, don’t you think? A crippled mind in a crippled body…”
how many times have we seen the master do that? maybe only once when this book was written (in the keeper of traken, of course) but at least three more times since then, by my count. in addition ‘we are both time lords’ is an echo of both two & the war chief's conversation and three & delgado’s (in the mind of evil, the claws of axos, and colony in space).
kriegslieter also calls seven ‘my dear doctor’ throughout, which is not a quirk of speech that the war chief has been ever shown to have. i can't claim it's unique to the master, but i think there's a certain history there. (did you know ainley says it five times in one 50 min long serial?)
magnus, as the master
as said before, the character of magnus was introduced in comic flashback, which appeared in the doctor who magazine winter special for 1992 and was commissioned and edited by gary russell (& written by warwick gray). it depicts seven and benny viewing a scene from the doctor’s past, where two old friends, thete and magnus, are at odds.
magnus was, at the time of this comic's creation, meant to be the master. there is no connection to the war chief in this story. which is why when goth opera, written by paul cornell, is published in 1994, magnus is the name used for the young master when listing out the doctor's school friends:
“That was when I was young and wild, Doctor. My contemporaries and I grew up to take our responsibilities seriously.”
“Ah…” The Doctor nodded. “Unlike my year. I begin to see.”
“Yes.” Ruath warmed to her subject, sipping from the goblet. Her eyes never left the Doctor’s. “Mortimus, the Rani, that idiot Magnus. And you, Doctor. All graduates of Borusa’s Academy for scoundrels.”
and, in 1995, when gary russell wrote invasion of the cat-people, he again used magnus as a name for the young master, referencing the master running out of lives far more quickly than the doctor by the time of the deadly assassin:
Polly smiled. “I’m glad you’re completely recovered, Doctor. You had us worried, you know.”
“Regeneration’s a tricky thing,” he said. “And it was my first one. Always the trickiest. They’re supposed to get better as they go on, so long as you don’t flitter them. Always used to say to my academy chum Magnus, ‘Magnus,’ I’d say, ‘Magnus, don’t throw old bodies away like you would a suit. They don’t grow on trees.’ Or something like that. Never listened though.”
when gary russell wrote divided loyalties in 1999, he followed mcintee’s lead in using koschei as the name for a young master, and instead retconned magnus a younger war chief, showing the two of them interacting during the doctor’s academy days — the final nail in the coffin of our lil theory, right? well, all i’m going to say to that is that all the academy era stuff we see is actually a nightmare the fifth doctor is having. so who’s to say he didn't dream his best friend as two different people? (he forgot which one of them killed a guy with a rock, after all...)
the war chief king
in the book of the war, the 2002 faction paradox ‘encyclopedia’ edited by lawrence miles, the entry on the war king states:
His personal assistant notes that his office is brimming with official business, but devoid of decoration. The only concession he makes to sentimentality are the components of a hypercube, twelve white squares stacked neatly on his desk. Its significance is unclear, but it’s thought to be the War King’s last remaining link with his unfortunate past.
the very first use of a hypercube was, of course, at the end of the war games, when the second doctor called the time lords in. if that's not concrete enough for you, the war king spells it out even more clearly in the 2021 audio sabbath and the king:
THE WAR KING: I have failed to introduce myself. I am— ah, but as we have just seen: names have power. I do not think I shall grace you with one of my true names, Sabbath, no, not yet. Let’s see. The Deathless? Oh, let us not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Chief and Master, Minister and Magistrate, President and King… I have been many things.
time’s champion
and finally we have time’s champion, originally written in the '80s(?) by craig hinton, completed and published by chris mckeon in 2008. first, we have mel stumbling upon a corridor of portraits in the tardis:
Her first impression was that the Doctor was at the end of a long, thin corridor. And then she realised what the corridor was. An art gallery, the length hung with paintings, from the doorway to the far distance.
As she started padding silently along the corridor, she looked at the paintings, and saw they were all portraits. Portraits painted in a variety of styles, from photo-realistic to impressionist, and everything in between. And she recognised some of the subjects.
[…]
Moving on, Mel had hoped for something a little less depressing, but it wasn’t to be. The atmosphere had changed again: it was still cold, but a sterile light was now bathing the area. Then she realised why: the sterility, the coldness — trademarks of the Time Lords. This must be the Doctor’s own people.
Pride of place was given to the Master — or rather the Masters: the familiar, music-hall villain in his velvet penguin suit had been captured in all his melodramatic glory, but there was also a suave, older man, his eyes radiating a fierce, evil intelligence wrapped in charm, next to which was positioned the portrait of a young, satanically handsome man with long, sharp sideburns and a thin, beard-length moustache, whose hand vainly clutched at a strange medallion hanging around his neck, as if clinging to the only power in his possession. And then there was an image of the cadaver, that rotting corpse that Mel knew was all that remained of the Doctor’s oldest friend and oldest enemy, animated by nothing but pure malice and spite.
the description of the ‘satanically handsome man’ is obviously the war chief. and then, the doctor remembers events from his past:
The night time vanished into the shadows of light, as new images, all familiar, threw themselves past the Doctor’s eyes: his tedious years at the Academy, his rise in the Time Lord hierarchy, his flight from Gallifrey, the early years of his exile, the planet of the War Games and his reunion with the Master, the lost years of imposed servitude to the Time Lords, all his memories and so many more impressed their way across the Doctor’s vision, even up to the moment of the present day. Then, abruptly, the vision ended. The Keeper began to speak again.
his reunion with the master occurs during the war games and precedes his exile (which is when his meeting with delgado’s master occurs). and magnus is once again used as a name for the young master:
The Doctor and Benton managed to glimpse him as he raced past. He was young, with a curving moustache and a dark, haughty face accustomed to obedience but now shadowed and twisted by fear. He ran onwards without even pausing to acknowledge their presence. He seemed desperate to outrun something. Moments later, a group of well-armed and uniformed men rounded the corridor and also hurried past the Doctor’s party, following the fleeing man in their wake.
Steadying himself against the cool stone wall at his side, the Doctor watched the squad pass, recognising them as members of the Chancellery Guard, but clothed in armour and dress from the long departed era of his days in the Academy. The Doctor paused, wondering where he had seen that face before.
“Magnus?” the Doctor whispered.
Benton stepped over to the Doctor.
“Who was that bloke those boys were chasing after, Doc? He looked a bit like the Master.”
The Doctor gazed into the distance.
“That he did, and for good reason.”
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello isa!!! can i ask 42 and 43 for the meme?
Hello Kyo!! Absolutely!
42. favourite book(s)
In no particular order and hopefully switched up a bit from how I often answer this question:
Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield
This book made me CRAZY INSANE clawing the walls. Story of a lesbian marriage that's dissolving after the primary narrator's wife returns from an exploratory submarine mission during which her vessel sank to the bottom of the ocean and stayed there for three months. Told in snippets of the present from one wife and flashbacks of being trapped in the submarine from the other. Just so so so fucking good.
2. Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir
Okay, like, obviously all of tumblr has heard about the Locked Tomb series, and I probably wouldn't recommend reading this without reading the first book first, but this book, the second installment, is imo far and away the best. Told in really compelling second-person narration (the reason for which is revealed near the end of the story) with lots of eerie dream logic and also features a sensitive depiction of schizophrenia that's a perfect blend of mundane daily grind after dealing with it for one's whole life and still genuinely frightening for the main character to experience when new symptoms develop. And it's a scary lesbian space opera about imperialism and nuclear war and bone magic. So there's that.
3. Milk Fed by Melissa Broder
This one got really mixed reviews, and I see why, but personally I really enjoyed it — I sat down in a bookstore to skim through it and didn't stand up again until I had read the entire thing, lmao. Bisexual Reform Jewish woman with a severe lifelong eating disorder has a brief and tumultuous affair with a fat Orthodox woman whom she may or may not have willed into existence, which results in her dealing (certainly imperfectly) with her own fucked-up body image through the lens of intense desire for another woman. There are weird Kabbalistic dreams and smatterings of mommy kink throughout.
4. The Immortal King Rao by Vauhini Vara
FREAKISHLY prophetic spec fic by a longtime tech journalist basically asking what would have happened if Apple and Instagram had been invented as a single huge tech conglomerate (called Coconut) by a Dalit immigrant to the United States, King Rao. Narrated by his daughter, Athena, to whom he has left his recorded consciousness after his death. Vara started writing this book in like 2009 and published it in 2022 and it's so insane the shit she predicted. The sections that take place in India are also really good; the author is Dalit and interviewed her family members in India who grew up on coconut farms similar to those featured in the book.
5. Fair Play by Tove Jansson
Really bittersweet, subtle, odd little telling though short story about a pair of middle-aged women artists who have been in love for a long time and live together on a small Scandinavian island in the 1980s. Partially autobiographical and based on the author's romance with Tuulikki Pietilä. I read this a lot when I was first embarking on my relationship with my fiancée back in 2018.
43. favourite song ever
Really hard one!!! I am going to tentatively lay this honor at the feet of SPECIFICALLY the 1985 version of Bobby Jean by Bruce Springsteen off Live/1975—85. Oh how I howl along to that shit.
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
12 and 18 please!
You picked such great questions!! Thanks Kelsey 😊 and I do apologize for my lengthy answers!
12. Is there a trope you haven't written yet but really want to?
While I'm not a big fan of enemies to lovers, I really want to write something that's enemies to......enemies who have hate sex xD Given the fandoms I'm in I think I'd have to write an AU to make that happen...
Lmao I was sitting here trying to think of plausible idea and THIS is what my brain comes up with:
Ginny accidentally gets sent back in time to the Marauder's era, where somehow she joins the first order of the phoenix, and her presence changes events so that the McKinnons were never killed. so years later when the war is "over" and people have started living their lives again, Ginny Weasley is the star chaser for the underdogs of the league, the Holyhead Harpies, and Marlene McKinnon is the keeper for the undefeated Montrose Magpies. and they fucking HATE each other, because nothing is more important to either of them than quidditch -- not how fit they think the other woman is, not how often they're told how similar they are -- so when Ginny led the Harpies to a HUMONGOUS upset by beating the undefeated Magpies, scoring an embarrassing twenty goals on Marlene, and Marlene refused to shake hands at the end of the match, then went on to talk trash about Ginny in an interview, their feud was pretty much solidified.
So when they're both a few drinks in at the league's annual holiday party and find themselves alone on a balcony in the chilly winter air, they're both ready for a fight. Because that's the only thing to do when you're alone with you're despised rival...right?
18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.
Dude...you have no idea how much time I have spent trying to decide what to pick for this.
I do apologize because I am going to pick a pretty intense scene, but, I have to say that I'm really proud of the scene in chapter 11 of Dead to Me when Lily has a flashback while in therapy. It's I think the third scene in the chapter, for reference. My long DVD commentary is below the cut! tw: parent death, childhood abuse
I was really proud of all the therapy scenes throughout that chapter, because to me you can clearly witness the progression of Lily's comfort as the sessions go on. In this scene, our second time witnessing one of their sessions, Andromeda directly asks Lily about her nightmares. Throughout the chapter, Lily disassociates during therapy by looking out the window at the pine trees in the distance. She does this here rather than answering Andromeda's questions, and passively lets her mind drift into the memory of first seeing her father on his deathbed.
This flashback is one of the many times I pepper in hints of Lily's neurodivergence -- as they enter the hospital she copes by keeping her eyes on the floor; first she sets a rule she can follow, but gets self-conscious; so she shifts to the less noticeable game of counting the patterns in the floor design, but is unsettled when it's inconsistent. She is overwhelmed by a pungent perfume in the elevator, and lets her mind wander to a daydream of it killing her, then coldly thinks that would be a good way to get her out of the situation. All of these details are based on experiences like my own, so they feel very real to me, and are meant to anchor us in the weight of this moment Lily's walking into.
There's a lot I could say about the moments by her dad's bedside. But the thing I hope sticks out to readers is the storm of dissonant feelings Lily experiences. That it isn't a simple feeling of relief that he's dying, or cold hatred of him that leaves no room for empathy. Any child of an abusive parent can tell you that it's fucking hard to hold onto the anger. The easier emotions are guilt, confusion, and the shameful yearning for the parent despite everything -- how much easier it is to hate yourself for these feelings than it is to hate the parent for causing them. And so you get the lines, "she wanted to gut herself for feeling any sort of sorry for him" and "she wanted to snap him beneath her fingers, wanted to hold him in her arms. The thought struck her that her father would never hold her again. Her body swam with grief and relief in equal measure."
That last one in particular kind of destroyed me when I saw what I'd written. I felt it in my body, that horrendous grief Lily felt in realizing that her father was not going to hold her again -- and I think immediately, a childlike fear overwhelming her, because wait, no, death can't take him yet, what if he might change? followed quickly by, again, that self-hatred for even remotely wishing that he'd hold her, and suddenly the awareness that, oh my god, soon I will never have to feel his touch again, never have to worry. But even then, there's a whisper of guilt -- how can she be glad he's dying, what kind of monster would she be if she looked at this suffering person and was glad? So it's even in recognizing that nuance of her experience that I am proud of myself.
Lastly, the end of the scene. We are brought full circle back to the topic of her nightmares, as Lily remembers what happened in her dreams later that night. I think this was the first time she realized that his death would do nothing to erase his presence. So when her mind returns to the therapy session and Andromeda's questions about her nightmares, Lily so deeply believes that there is no point in talking about them. If the source of your nightmares is your lived experience, what difference would it make to be rid of them, anyway? So she stays disassociated and we are left with the last line in the scene: 'Lily didn’t look away from the pine tree. “I don’t remember,” she told Andromeda.'
#if you want to laugh only read the first response xD if you want to be very sad feel free to continue to the second (':#my writing#charlie mail#kelsey tag#hp#dead to me#tw child abuse#tw child trauma#tw parent death#ask meme#lily evans#ginny weasley#marlene mckinnon
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
top five favorite songs (or artists/albums, whatever you wanna gush about!)
Oh Lydia.. you have no idea what you have unleashed by asking me to gush about music 😹💕 Music is truly one of my nr.1 interests of all time! 🫶
So me answering this got way out of hand... Therefore, here a (somewhat) brief summary:
Top 5 songs of last week:
The grudge by Olivia Rodrigo -> “your flowers filled with vitriol” is a line that goes so hard istg! (the whole song is a banger tho)
Midnight by Ed Sheeran
Making the bed by Olivia Rodrigo
Stick Season by Noah Kahan
That’s on me by Ed Sheeran
Top 5 fave artists atm (artist -> fave album -> fave song on it)
The Amazing Devil -> Ruin -> Drinking Song for the socially anxious
Taylor Swift -> evermore -> cowboy like me
Sleeping at last -> Enneagram -> Nine (my own type lmao)
Bo Burnham -> Inside -> Goodbye
Ed Sheeran -> (currently) Autumn Variations -> Spring
Way too extensive elaboration under the cut (bc once I start talking about music it’s very hard to stop)
So out of the 5 arrtists I mention, I also have fave albums and on those albums at least 5 songs so… I don’t expect anyone to actually read through all that, no worries 😹💕 (I was also about to include fave lyrics, but then I was reminded of several irl deadlines so… another time maybe…hopefully... cause I love talking about lyrics so much!)
(fave songs in order of their track nr. On the album, not their actual rank; fave bolded)
1.) The Amazing Devil
Love Run -> King, Shower Day, Elsa’s Song, Two Minutes, Not Yet/Love Run
The Horror and the Wild -> The Rockrose & the Thistle, Welly Boots, Farewell Wanderlust, Fair, That Unwanted Animal
Ruin -> The Calling, Drinking Song, Chords, The Old Witch Sleep, Ruin, Inkpot Gods
2.) Taylor Swift (okay, I am just doing top 5 albums for her, cause otherwise we’ll be sitting here all day)
Evermore -> champagne problems, ivy, cowboy like me, marjorie, right where you left me
Red -> The Lucky One, Better Man, Nothing New, Forever Winter, ATW 10 min
Reputation -> I did smth bad, King of my Heart, Dancing with our hands tied, Call it what you want, New Years Day
Folklore -> the 1, my tears ricochet, seven, peace, the lakes
Midnights -> Maroon, Sweet Nothing, The Great War, WCS, You’re losing me
3.) Sleeping at last
Space -> Sun, Earth, Mars, Neptune, Pluto
Enneagram -> 1, 2, 3, 8, 9
4.) Bo Burnham
Words words words -> WWW, Oh Bo, What’s Funny, Rant, Art is Dead
What -> left brain right brain (yt amv flashbacks istg…) , from god’s perspective, Nerds, Channel 5 News, Hell of a Ride
Make Happy -> straight white man, country song, lower your expectations, kys, can’t handle this (+ r u happy – bc oof…)
Inside (deluxe) -> problematic, welcome to the internet, that funny feeling, all eyes on me, goodbye + five years
5.) Ed Sheeran (also just 5, bc I am ignoring that = exists)
Plus -> it’s been too long since listened to this one, so I only remember “Little Bird” and “The A Team”
X -> Don’t, Photograph, Tenerife Sea, Thinking Out Loud, I see Fire
Divide -> Shape of you (idc that it’s overplayed!! I still unironically like this song!), Happier, What do I know?, Supermarket Flowers, Save Myself
Substract -> Eyes Closed, End of Youth, Curtains, Vega, Stoned
Autumn Variations -> England, Midnight, Spring, Punchline, When will I be alright
#Anyone who listens to my music ramblings or even asks me about them will automatically become one of my bffs#sorry <3#I could talk about each of these choices for hours but this post was already getting way too long 🙈🩵#I feel like some of these song choices are revealing way too uch about myself but oh well...#ask game#ask#lumiereandcogsworth 🩵#thank you so so much for asking 🫶💕
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
HELLOOO WAVES WAVESSS I READ CHAPYER 1 OF ROSES LETS GOOO I am also very Eepy bc I just came back from work so I don't have that big of an ask bUTTTT this chapter was great holyshit I'm so excited to read spruce and snowflakes analysises like holyshit there is so much food, all of the little hidden meanings in everyone's words?? Like bro. Bro. I feel like every single word was consciously decided and well thought out. Every little thing is important and that is one of my FAV things in fics. I feel like there's gonna be a lot of foreshadowing in this fic. Also oooh :00 Tommy's playing a bigger part than I was expecting, I am now so?? Curious? Omgggg
God I am eating up these vibes so much Bee I love this so much already actually like this is SO lovely, reminds me a lot of the high fantasy novels I used to read which are my fav vibes ever :)) def like late summer reading eueueu this is gonna be fun to reread I can already tell omgomgomg
Why do I feel like Wilbur being blinded by the sun is going to play a bigger part in the story . You've mentioned it twice now I am Staring
Uhm I'm worried by Wilburs sheer amount of confidence about Niki being chosen. Makes me think maybe, just maybe, he is wrong
oh man I already love tntduo in this I am so excited rahhsss
LETS GOOOO SANDDUO TIME BAKRBAKDBKABDKSBDJBDKDBE
I love Phil
Also . Is Wilbur. Is he saying. Is he saying Phil is THE most powerful man . I am eyeing him. I am eyeing him so hard
"Of course I trust him" what if I cry .
Ranboo once again a spy LMAOFJFKGKGK I feel like everyone's gonna get war flashbacks to stars dhfjfkfk
Ooohhh mannn the tension is already high oohhh mannn I am so scared for this fic /pos
I'm so excited actually like . So excited. I am also incredibly tired so this is shorter than my normal asks FHFJ but just know that I am actually. Like. Holy shit I love this so much already Bee idk how to express this I'm so excited omhogmgogmg
This fic is already so cool. Like. Aaaaaaaaaaa
Okay I'll end this before I repeat myself for the thousandth time BUT JUST KNOW I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS. A LOT OF FEARS
Also I'm not going to be surprised if this ends up being my fav long fic from you. Like I am so biased towards medieval vibes but I also just?? Idk I'm really enjoying this first chapter and all of the levels of complexity that's involved. I just think this fic is going to be very, very fun :))
now that i've finished rose ch 2 i'm scrolling way back in my asks to answer some rose asks so hi icy :)
oh yeah writing rose so far is very much like writing stars in the sense that i have to be so careful about every word i use. I think things over so much and the dialogue especially has to be so carefully balanced. tbh it kind of makes it maddening to write but it's worth it it's worth it
I tried to keep tommy's level involvement a bit of a secret until I posted the first chapter, but yeah, he's actually a major player in this. I can't wait for you guys to meet him next chapter rose!tommy is going Through It
soooo glad you like the vibes I'm having so much fun with it so far. I can't wait to get more immersed in the atmosphere of everything
the sun can blind you when you look at it from a certain angle idk maybe I just thought it was a fun description and there's nothing else there :)))
rose!tntduo are SO fun you guys don't even know
if two people have a gun, who is the most powerful person? the one who pulls the trigger or the one who tells them where to point and when to shoot?
rose!sandduo makes me eat the walls phil trusts his son and loves him so much but also ohhhh their dynamic is so complicated
LMAO LOOK i didn't make ranboo a spy on purpose to reference stars it just sorta worked out that way c!ranboo is just a little hypocrite like that
i'm so glad you're enjoying it so far!! it's definitely going to be a brain shift going from glass to this and I'm already feeling the struggle but once I switch over I know I'm gonna get so into it I'm so excited to dive into this world and to hear everyones thoughts
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
marion?? do i see KANDREIL on the wip list??? what have i missed???? and i ALSO see izzyfic and i also see that you have answered asks for both of these, and i cannot WAIT for them to be actualised because they just sound so bloody good. anyway, i really need to know about that wolfstar roadtrip fic because it sounds familiar from... about a year ago and i need to know if we're talking about the same one.
— geets
!!!!!!!!!! GEETS BACK FROM THE DEAD HELLO
what have you missed: i got into aftg and am unhealthily obsessed i guess? lmao i have no idea what i am doing but I AM DOING IT, i appreciate the support xxx
for my shame we are definitely still talking about the same one from over a year ago 😭😭😭 tbh it's probably still about the same word count that it was last time you heard about it LOL it’s gone through many changes though, and i think i’ve finally settled on a format and voice that feels right, but who knows? i’ll change my mind about it soon, probably
the premise is still the same!! remus and sirius are going on a very pine-flavoured post war roadtrip of britain! stops include: stonehenge, north wales, liverpool, the yorkshire moors and edinburgh 🥰, other fun things featured: trans remus, multiple pov war flashbacks, only one bed, a full moon (+animagus shenanigans), jegulily, skinny dipping, a super affectionate sirius and peter redemption (what!!!!)
i’ll leave you a teeny tiny snip under the cut! (unedited, sirius’ pov war flashback, set one year-ish before the roadtrip itself:)
✨ask me about one of my wips✨
James, as per usual, is by far the loudest in the room, wracking sobs rushing through his body relentlessly, without giving him the time to catch his breath in between. Sirius wouldn’t be able to cry right now, if he wanted to, but physical display of James’ feelings is as comforting as ever. The five of them are still here. Voldemort is gone. This is all they’d worked for. This is what they lost so much — so many — for.
Right beside Sirius, is Remus. Silent, not even his breath loud enough for Sirius’ ears to ear. But he’s right there, left arm pressed against Sirius’ own, his long fingers brushing against Sirius’ wand hand. His body radiates a warmth that seems to hush Sirius’ heart until the beats match Remus’, until Sirius vision feels less blurry and he feels less like he might be sick.
Before he can analyse even more of the room in a desperate attempt to grab at the fraying hems of his sanity, Dumbledore emerges, a tired smile on his face.
He congratulates them, shiny earnest eyes behind his moon-shaped glass lenses. He tells them this victory was only possible thanks to their bravery, especially Regulus’. That he’d been wondering for a while if Horcruxes were how Voldemort had kept himself alive while he gathered his forces.
Sirius shudders as Dumbledore places a hand on Regulus’ shoulder — no doubt finding skin instead of the wool that should be there, Regulus’ jumper torn to bits by spells from the Battle. He must clench is hand because suddenly Remus’ is around his own, steadying him, and Sirius releases his wand, letting it clatter to the floor.
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh daddy azazel will you ever come back once more and feed us peasants with your milk from your teets
*looks at camera like i’m in the office*
77 notes
·
View notes
Note
bestie what if jungkook finally finds out that jin’s friends with y/n 😭😭😭 he’d live in embarrassment for like eight business days
cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D
jungkook wants to crawl in a ditch for bADLY misjudging a situation he should’ve foreseen in the first place
yoongi has never been this dedicated to curing his hangover
well actually, nO ONE was really forcing him to pick you and taehyung up anyway
you didn't even ask!!! you could 10/10 just call for an uber to bring back taehyung to his place
maybe, just maybe, it's your fault that when yoongi asked you where you were when he's just woken up from a long night of partying, you mentioned "i'm with taehyung" and hospital and go home in the same sentence so that's why he went to overdrive
did he process what you said correctly?? probably not <3
that's the whole reason why yoongi had wasted sIX eggs this morning!!
he read somewhere in passing and watched song-hwa from hospital playlist enough to know that drinking eggs apparently helps you with your hangover and some other things
first, he wasted tHREE eggs because apparently, you're not supposed to drink the eggs !!! whisked !!! because it "defeats" the whole purpose
but it's still an egg whether you whisk it and no one's sane enough to drink raw eggs unprovoked
yoongi nailed it on the second try and he might have gagged a few times but the important thing is, his hangover is all-cured from the stress of digesting raw eggs :D so now he can safely drive at a borderline dangerous speed to pick you and tae up
"hey kiddo."
you peer your head up to see yoongi looking down at you, ruffling your hair in greeting
you've been held up here for less than five hours anyway, and it's not that yOU look tired,,, it's just that maybe you could use a little more sleep
lol you got yoongi thinking for a second that you're the injured on
"hey champ," yoongi acknowledges taehyung who's smiling from his bed, getting a forehead flick from his senior to which he rolls his eyes to
taehyung's... dressed up already in his normal clothes?
he already has his shoe on too so yoongi doesn't quite get why the two of you still aren't standing up
"you're lucky you just got a flick," you add helpfully, yawning in remembrance, "he punched my arm when i fell down the stairs at the dorm."
and wHY is this conversation all pointing to him now??
"because the both of you did stupid things that landed you in the ER!"
"i was just trying to see if i can go down the stairs three steps at a time!!"
"i just wanted to embrace y/n!!!"
very stoopid decisions if you ask him
yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to another, still a little lost because he's already here, and the two of you are all-ready to go, and he's not really a fan of the smell of the hospital —
oh wait
"has the bill already been settled?" he asks in curiosity, fishing out his wallet from his pocket
"mhmm. already did," tae answers instantly, nudging yoongi to put his wallet back where it came from
uhm wait maybe it's the eggs that are talking but uh
..... if the bill's already paid-
"then why are we all just sitting here?"
taehyung opens his mouth but he cLOSES it shut the moment it all clicks in his head, belatedly looking at you whose face screams conflict
yoongi's eyes turn to you on instinct, narrowing his eyes because you're choosing not to meet his eyes
"we're uh, we're waiting for jungkook to come back from the restroom."
...
.....
.......
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
yoongi's quiet, almost like he's calculating the variables in his mind
his mind's working harder rn that it did on his finals last week
"so jungkook is here?"
he gets war flashbacks every time he hears his name
he just shudders at the thought of him and he doesn't mean it positively lmao
"y-yeah! did i not tell you that at the call? he helped me get taehyung here," you scratch your nape in explanation, not accounting for the fact that yoongi still vERY much loathes jungkook when you called him
tae's not actually sure if he's helping you when he opens his mouth but he's trying his best <3
"yup! his shoulders were my crutch for like, three blocks. he also bought us food from the cafeteria while we were waiting to have my leg cast!!"
he glances at the fancy paper bags from the cafeteria downstairs, even some take-outs in there that makes it look all-stuffed
how in the living hELL is yoongi suppposed to feel about all of this :|
"i'm back! should i call an uber now? sorry, i bought these tiny hand sanitizers because they were having a sale at the pharmacy. y/n what scent do you-..."
jungkook happily chirps as he rummages through the bag he was given, preparing to scoop all the different scents to present them to you when he jUST had to look down at a familiar pair of shoes
as in the same black converse that he had the relief of looking at when someone was particularly asking him if he ever had a knuckle sandwich
"h-hi yoongi."
yoongi narrows his eyes at the kid who just squeaked, mouth puffed-up in disbelief that he looks like he's hiding a hamster in there
"bye jungkook."
yoongi uses tae as an excuse to shoo jungkook off as fast as possible but that kinda bites him in the ass
taehyung's going through a learning curve with his crutches and yoongi's making him wALK faster!!!! he still needs a little-
oh wait a minute :-)
"jungkook! help me walk to yoongi's car."
no
there is nO way that even taehyung's conspiring against him now
first jin and now taehyung????
tae solidifies his point by winking at yoongi, leaving you alone with him as you carry the paper bags of cafeteria take-outs
he's not exactly sure if he's helping you out at this situation, but once again, he's just trying his best and having fun alright!!! he likes to be included in these types of things hee-hee
yoongi has no choice now but to aLSO drive jungkook home, and the thought just makes him grumble from thinking about it
he'll have to disinfect his seats ://
"i haven't fully forgiven him if that's what you're thinking about," you chime in with his thoughts, looping your arm around his to help quell the visible stress in his mind
"it's your life," he puffs out because he doesn't want to meddle with you, consciously trying not to be overbearing when it comes to your choices
"i know. i just want you to know that your closest friend has the pride and the brains to not forgive an asshole, a goddamn junior, who said really mean things to her," you add thoughtfully and transparently, making yoongi break into a smile
ok that's got the heaviness in his chest a little lighter
"we should probably talk to each other one of these days."
you haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with yoongi for quite some time now because there weren't really any pressing issues of the sort to make the two of you talk face-to-face, but now it's probably needed
"we should."
:D
jungkook has never feared for his life in a car ride tHIS much before
and he's even wearing his seatbelt!!!!
you're sitting at the front seat and he's with taehyung at the back, the latter dozing off because yoongi indulged his request for sleep music with soft rain on the background (it doesn't make yoongi sleepy) in an attempt to make him feel better about his leg
the one-hour loop's working wonders because you're passed out on the front seat too
normally, this would also make jungkook sleepy
but how the fuck can he sLEEP when yoongi looks at him through the rear-view mirror like an apex predator??????
kook could take the easier route of pretending to sleep so he could get to avoid yoongi's gaze
but then if he pretends to sleep, yoongi would clearly see how his eyeballs are still very much trembling even when his eyes are shut and he's the furthest thing from being relaxed
don't get him started on stoplights too!!! that was just pure torture because jungkook was conflicted to whether or not he should look at him rIGHT back
taehyung and jungkook live in the same building anyway so that's more convenient because he actually wouldn't know how to act if he had to drop j-name (he honestly can't digest saying his name) separately
now that that's all over, jungkook feels oddly fulfilled in a way...?
fulfilled in a sense that even if partially, he managed to earn your forgiveness
he feels like he could sleep a little more peacefully knowing that he atleast did something right this time!!!
which is for the exact reason, he's gonna gUSH about this to mr. kim from student affairs!!!
it's uh the weekend and he walked to campus because he thinks that admin works even on weekends (mad respect)
it's noticeably a lot more empty compared to weekdays and it's just filled with freshmen with their hectic class schedules and some students who are just fulfilling units to graduate early
jungkook walks straight to student affairs and it instantly looks empty, the only familiar face in there being namjoon
as in mr. kim namjoon who's wearing a windbreaker rn and whose hair is dEFINITELY blonde than the last time (two days ago) that jungkook saw him
he's not here to work isn't he
wait is he here to rob the place ???!?#?!?
"and what are you doing here?"
namjoon is as confused as jungkook, his mouth opening and closing in dumbfoundedness
"o-oh! is mr. kim here? w-wait, you are here. i mean mr. kim seokjin, sorry. did he-"
"nope," namjoon shakes his head, putting his bucket hat back on to leave jungkook all by himself
namjoon from work and namjoon every other time besides work are TWO different entities
"we just came here to collect our paychecks. you missed jin by ten minutes."
oh well
his momentum's not entirely ruined!! jungkook just has to cram thinking of a recipe to put in your lunchbox by tomorrow and jin is his tried and tested saving grace
technically, jungkook already saw you this morning because of the whole taehyung in a cast thing, but he feels as if that the take-outs from the cafeteria aren't gonna cut it
he still needs to step up his game of course :D
so that's why jungkook forcibly enlisted jimin's help to make fish and chips for dinner and put them in two lunchboxes
one for you and one for yoongi!! he didn't skimp on the fish nor the chips and made sure they're still toasty and in peak-flavor when he delivers it to your dorm
is he intruding? is this a bad time? he didn't exactly know how to process when yoongi told him that he wouldn't stop him from making it up to you
he just iSN'T sure if delivering homemade lunchboxes at 7 in the evening to your dorm is optimal
oh good!! the door's opening :D
"good evening!! i uhm-"
... what
.......... WHAT
what the fuck is going on
seokjin is suprised to see that the guy at the door isn't from the delivery place he ordered from two minutes ago
... he may be disappointed
but what he is amused about is the way jungkook looks beyond confused and intimidated
jin's in a sleep shirt and some boxers and jungkook doesn't kNOW what to feel about all the variables present that he's trying to connect
"you look like you're hiding a goldfish in your mouth."
seokjin remarks and yawns when a fraction of a minute passes and jungkook's still frozen in his spot, his eyes darting to what the kid's holding
"oh c'mon! one for y/n and one for yoongi? you trying to make it up to him too? and none for me?" jin jives him further, leaning against the doorframe with a sleepy smirk on his lips, "i practically live here, and i gave you the tonkatsu recipe, and i'm the one who doesn't get a lunchbox?"
he eventually saw this coming lmao
jin knew that someway somehow, jungkook would come to know that hE's your close friend throughout the whole time
that he's been the sort of middleman all this time but nah he's on your team of course <3
that all this whining he's done to him has all been in the name of you and seokjin had to sit through ALLLL of that with his fists clenched underneath the table to calm himself down
"oh my god," jungkook's literally WEAK in the knees as it all connects in his mind, the gravity of this scenario kicking down on him
he really iS such a fucking asshole
how did he not hypothesize this????? how wasn't he able to connect you and yoongi and jin as each other's closest friends???
his legs are literally about to give out so that's why seokjin snatches the lunchboxes from his hands
"i am so, so, so sorry mr. kim. i-i really didn't-..."
jin pays him no mind, opening the lunchboxes slightly as he whistles at the sight of fish and chips
meanwhile jungkook is so sO close to crying both in realization and very very slight relief because he knows atleast one of your friends doesn't hate him that much
the door opens wider, the creaking getting both of his and jin's attention
"what's taking you so long? is the-..."
yoongi switches his gaze between the two lunchboxes on jin's hand and jungkook sitting on the floor looking like he's had the shock of his lifetime
wow this is really amusing
this is in fact so amusing that yoongi can't help but to snap a picture for him and jin to laugh at later
"bye, jeon."
yoongi grabs one of the lunchboxes from jin's hand and goes back into the dorm, leaving jungkook alone with mr. student affairs
seokjin chuckles as he outstretches his hand to make jungkook stand up and shoo him off sooner than later so he wouldn't look like a pebble in front of your dorm
he pats him on the back, only having to pull him slightly to get him closer to his ear
"we're still mad at you kid, don't get it twisted. you're lucky i didn't expel you."
jungkook pales at the realization overall, only weakly nodding his head as he attempts to take in everything while trying to look at the bright side
seokjin cheerily closes the door, waving at him who looks so close to passing out from hock
"bye jungkook!!!"
#AHHHHHH WHAT R UR THOUGHTS WHAT DO YOU WANNA SEE NEXT#stem koo#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook au#jungkook college au#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook headcanon#jungkook series
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun
Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.
(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)
so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji
maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about
oh at least Endeavor is here
A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL
lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT
okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl
SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL
anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy
so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE
LOL look at his face
I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope
good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit
lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up
Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall
oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now
today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess
I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol
oh shit?
so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily
anyway so yeah
the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess
so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation
oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku
please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son
also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus
(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)
Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,
a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it
lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value
well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess
we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol
OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS
“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol
lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys
JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES
yes!!
WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”
LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11
anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!
don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm
anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??
AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy
anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life
AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”
OMG
lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin
OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT
DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT
WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG
THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL
OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE
“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
SHE!!!!
omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL
DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE
-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!
YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY
lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then
#bnha 311#endeavor#hawks (bnha)#takami keigo#shigaraki tomura#best jeanist#all might#midoriya izuku#cool tartarus gun transforming girl#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
298 notes
·
View notes
Note
what do you think about people saying aang and katara wouldn't work because katara has abandonment issues and aang first instinct is always to run away / flee? (you don't need to answer if you dont want to ofc)
I’ve been pondering over this ask for a few weeks now (I think it’s been a few weeks? Time is a lie and I’m bad at answering asks in order lmao) and honestly, anon? I don’t think it’s worth it for any of us to acknowledge this particular rhetoric regarding Kataang’s relationship. Why? Because it’s a perfect example of a bad faith argument. People who offer up this as “evidence” that Aang and Katara wouldn’t work romantically do not care that what they are saying is untrue. Thus, they are not seeking to find compromise or common ground, and you shouldn’t feel bothered to entertain them.
Like, let’s be real. Aang runs away a grand total of… twice in the show? Once technically prior to the present storyline itself? Correct me if I’m wrong in my counting, of course! But I cannot think of any time Aang runs away that a) happens outside of Book 1, b) he doesn’t accept the consequences of and/or impose unnecessary guilt on himself, c) is in regard to his relationship with Katara. To my knowledge, Aang ran away:
Pre-canon, fearing separation from Gyatso because of his status as the Avatar (provided in a flashback in “The Storm”)
From the fisherman’s criticism that is ultimately linked to the same issue as above (which makes sense, because this instance also occurs in “The Storm”)
I suppose a case could be made that Aang was “running away” post-DoBS when he temporarily delays getting a firebending teacher, but like. Extenuating circumstances (he blames himself for the mission’s failure and for their friends’ capture, not to mention he’s back at an empty Air Temple - intense mixed feelings, you know?). Also, it’s not like he “runs away” once Zuko becomes his teacher, and in fact Aang both very eagerly accompanies him to the Sun Warrior “ruins” and is the one to originally allude to why Zuko’s firebending is off in the first place (“Maybe your firebending comes from rage and you just don’t have enough anger to fuel it the way you used to”). So I find it hard to categorize this instance as “running away” when arguably it falls more in line with hey, Aang was stressed and guilty and re-encountering memories of his people, so it’s not exactly a surprise he needed a moment to himself.
Furthermore: I also do not count Aang “running away” in the Book 3 premiere because to me, it’s pretty clear Aang was actually running towards his responsibilities as the Avatar there both out of obligation and to grapple with what he deems his own failure (running towards his responsibilities too soon, as it happens, hence why he reunites with his friends after the fact). I also don’t count his “running away” in the series finale with the Lion Turtle because he was a) clearly in some kind of trance jfc and b) again, he was trying to face his responsibilities as the Avatar. Literally the opposite of running away and also entirely out of his control because yk. Spirit World powers, lol.
So Aang ran away twice, thrice if one is feeling really harsh. Even taking into consideration the latter two examples (that again are really not him running away), it’s clear that none of his motives are ever related to Katara. It’s always about his being the Avatar. Fearing his duties, accepting his duties, facing his duties, etc. etc. So trying to overlay that theme with his and Katara’s affections for each other seems pretty nonsensical, lol. And besides - a major part of Aang’s arc is him reconciling that he is both the Avatar and the last airbender. His transition from running away to running towards (to kind of meeting in the middle) these parts of himself is demonstrative of his growth as a character. Like,, sorry Aang has solid and nuanced development??
In other words, there is no canon basis to the idea that Aang’s “first instinct” is always to run away. Yes, he runs away a couple times, but it’s never related to Katara and is only a significant struggle for him in the early days of Book 1. Thus, when people try to use it as “evidence” against Kataang, it’s a clear red flag that they don’t care about taking canon at its own merit. They simply prefer fanon. To each their own, ofc! But again - watch out for the bad faith argument. Ain’t worth your time.
Regarding Katara’s “abandonment issues”: I don’t think it’s untrue to say that Katara struggles with people leaving her, and she definitely struggles with Aang’s brief disappearance in the Book 3 premiere (also related to how her father had to leave during the war). But Aang proves time and time again that he always comes back to her. To name a few: they reunite at the end of “The Awakening.” Aang returned to her after the Siege of the North (Koizilla, lol). Aang came to find her in CoD. Aang found and helped in her “The Painted Lady.” When Aang disappears during the series finale, Katara trusts - even though she is understandably anxious - that he will return to defeat Ozai and that he will succeed (“Aang won’t lose. He’s gonna come back”). So it’s clear Katara doesn’t see Aang as a “flight risk,” lmao - why should the fandom? Once again, it all returns to the notion of bad faith. People who adamantly believe in the rhetoric you present, anon, do not care about canon, which in itself is totally fine, but it is oftentimes important to distinguish between canon and fanon. If someone outright refuses to do that - major red flag.
In sum: this argument is 99% of the time not worth engaging because it is a blatant misinterpretation of canon. We all have better things to do! (Like prepping for Kataang Week, am I right?)
#this was a spur of the moment answer lol#aang#katara#kataang#atla#avatar the last airbender#kataangtag#aanglove#amy answers#anon#amy analyzes
159 notes
·
View notes
Text
To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six
Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.
Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader
Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series
Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.
Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!
Word Count: 21,400+
A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol
~
An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm
Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week.
Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him.
You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years.
And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether.
But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary.
It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve.
‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you.
‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’
‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’
Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation.
‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’
‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”
‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’
The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently.
And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory.
You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read.
No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”
You will not cry right now.
You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”
“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen.
He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.
You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?”
He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”
Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.
Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind.
Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”
“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”
His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”
“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”
“Don’t joke about that-”
You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”
Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”
A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”
Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”
He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.
“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”
You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”
In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”
You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”
Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”
You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”
“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired.
You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”
“Business as usual.”
Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”
“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”
It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will.
“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”
His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”
“You’ll what?”
Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.
“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”
His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”
“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”
Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.
You were still speaking.
“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”
“Don’t start-”
You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.
“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”
Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”
But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”
Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”
The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.
For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply.
“You hate me that much-”
“Y/N-”
And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”
“Please...”
“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”
You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time.
But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.
“I think that’s for the best.”
You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him?
“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.”
Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face.
You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away.
You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”
Present Day, 2025, 7:02am
You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang.
Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame.
You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty.
With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound.
Steve really wasn’t here.
For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.
But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief.
You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?
It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy.
It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call.
‘Hey, what’s up?’
You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”
‘Back up. Explain?’
“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”
Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’
You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”
Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’
Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”
‘Did you and Steve actually…?’
“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”
‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’
It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”
Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’
You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”
‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’
“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”
Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’
“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself.
‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’
“Ugh, don’t scare me.”
Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’
You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”
There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’
You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”
Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’
You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”
Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’
You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”
‘You didn’t have to.’
Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later.
Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready.
The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.
Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice.
“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him.
Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”
It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”
Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”
Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”
“I need to tell someone.”
“I’m all ears.”
Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”
“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations?
“And we messed around a little bit.”
Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”
Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”
His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”
“That’s calling it like it is?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”
Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”
“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter.
“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”
Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”
“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”
Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”
Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong.
But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’
“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”
“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.
His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”
Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”
Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”
He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends.
His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”
Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”
Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”
Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”
He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”
Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”
Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”
“That didn’t make any-”
Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”
Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health.
Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday.
God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?
“We got a plan?”
It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky.
“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”
Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner.
“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”
Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course.
“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”
You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”
Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”
You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”
Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.
“Okay.”
You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast.
You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk.
“You protect her, alright?”
Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option.
Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you.
“I will.”
The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat.
You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him.
Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.
Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute.
Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions.
“Good to see you again!”
You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”
His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”
“You’re weird when you’re nice.”
“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”
Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”
Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”
You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”
Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”
In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.
While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”
Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you.
Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul.
“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”
For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”
Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.
Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres.
Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor.
By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield.
There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags.
Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later.
It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking.
While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.
Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another.
“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts.
Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here.
As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission.
The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case.
You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’
Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011.
The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy.
When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling.
‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’
Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”
He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’
“Ew.”
A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was.
Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans.
This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache.
The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look.
But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin.
“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath.
Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly.
Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”
Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile.
Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret.
“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”
Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”
Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”
Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”
“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”
“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth.
Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”
“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown.
The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”
Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”
You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”
Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”
You played dumb. “What?”
Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed.
Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”
Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”
“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in.
“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered.
“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”
You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”
Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”
Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”
No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.
Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes.
He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation. And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.
Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”
Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”
You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.
He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers.
Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all.
Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades.
Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.
“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”
“There are worse ways to go.”
Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find.
When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made.
And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Is everyone on?”
The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.
“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”
And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner.
Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance.
Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-
Wait, where were you?
Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’
“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”
The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself -
‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris.
Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again.
But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains.
“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”
He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”
You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”
Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”
Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”
A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.
“Well, let’s go!”
Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself.
At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”
Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen.
“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”
You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”
Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.
Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain.
He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected.
“See this as a means to inform you.”
If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”
“Do we have a deal?”
If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively.
Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.
Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”
If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”
You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.
The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement.
Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved.
Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.
Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side.
The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere.
You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size.
They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-
One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself.
This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms.
But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-
It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug.
They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel.
At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair.
You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”
Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him.
If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter.
Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”
It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on.
“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled.
Scott’s eyes lit up.
Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas.
But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief.
For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple.
For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple.
For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple.
Maybe because he didn’t stop you.
It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.
It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen.
Yes, that would have been great.
Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey.
Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether.
Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands.
“Please… don’t shoot.”
Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting.
You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.”
“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”
Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell.
“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious.
“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”
Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have.
“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”
Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”
“Your men were followed, too.”
Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”
Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted.
“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”
Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”
Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”
As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”
“Prove it.”
Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down.
Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”
“What?”
“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”
Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”
He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”
“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.
“Any man who can do that is good, right?”
Scott nodded, “According to legend-”
Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”
“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted.
Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”
“The phone videos on Youtube.”
You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”
“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”
“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”
“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”
Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”
Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”
It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them.
On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called.
It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.
Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop.
Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.
It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.
He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards.
They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing.
Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway.
He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’.
And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right.
On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.
Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him.
You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words.
“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”
Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”
He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it.
Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs.
The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could.
You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips.
Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.
“What about the videos, Omar?”
Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”
Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”
“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”
“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”
Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?”
You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”
“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”
You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”
Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.”
There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”
Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”
Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”
After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”
“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”
“Omar,” you demanded.
“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”
Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”
And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”
Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”
Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”
“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned.
Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”
Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”
“Exactly.”
It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?
“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”
Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”
“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.
“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”
You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”
He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“Protect my daughter.”
Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”
“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”
“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”
“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”
“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question.
A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”
Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”
“Promise me.”
You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”
“We promise.”
You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list.
Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink. “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”
You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”
Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”
Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”
You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”
His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”
“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle.
Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky.
Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”
Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”
Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”
Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”
“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”
“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry.
“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”
Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them.
“What are you getting at?”
“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.”
Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”
Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”
Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”
“We can’t let her know right now.”
Torres held the same expression as Steve.
“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”
“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”
Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.
“Can’t tell her what?”
“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”
“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission.
“Multiple.”
“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call.
Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.”
Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”
It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe.
Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”
“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked.
“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”
Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”
But wasn’t that what you all wanted?
Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway.
There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through.
The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve.
Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.
“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”
It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count.
Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret.
Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success.
That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right.
Because he will tell you. He promises himself that.
After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better.
Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner.
Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch.
The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult.
Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.
“Steve?”
He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”
You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”
Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”
You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”
He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner.
“If you say so.”
You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush.
The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen.
“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”
Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda.
Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone.
It was now or never.
His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”
You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”
Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”
“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table. “No, I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t?”
“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing.
“No, I just-”
“Do you?”
“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”
You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”
“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin.
You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”
Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”
You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen.
“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”
Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”
You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”
You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether.
Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.”
You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”
“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”
You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”
“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”
You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”
He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”
“Oh.”
He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”
“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles.
“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”
“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”
“You were the first.”
“So you’re interrupting me, now?”
Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”
Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”
“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”
“Tired of me?”
“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”
“Steve…”
He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -”
He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”
“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm.
“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”
You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”
His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.”
He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”
“How can you say that?”
He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”
“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”
“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”
You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”
Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”
“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”
A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”
“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”
He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him.
“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”
“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”
And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours.
“What are you thinking about?”
Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss.
It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss.
An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last.
His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.
He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck.
“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him.
Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”
His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying.
You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had.
‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer.
But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it.
“I only want you.”
His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”
“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”
“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”
Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”
You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”
Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”
“And righteous.”
“Downright patriotic.”
You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”
Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”
“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”
Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”
You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”
Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.
“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders.
“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well.
It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed.
Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”
You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”
He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you. He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself.
“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning.
You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”
He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him.
“You gonna let me?”
And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra. You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came.
“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”
This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had.
“Safe word?”
You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”
“Safe. Word.”
It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically.
“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”
Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.
He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear.
“Where do you want me?”
You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”
Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”
His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it.
“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely.
But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.
Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”
The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”
You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in.
You looked down at him, “Do that again.”
Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”
Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air.
The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass.
“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.
He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined.
You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”
“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth.
“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story.
He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound.
“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.
Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”
You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”
Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”
“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”
Steve short-circuited.
“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”
You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”
Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea.
“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”
His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet.
“Y/N, are you sure?”
You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”
He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now.
“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry.
You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements.
You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”
He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.
Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat.
It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself.
He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.”
You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”
Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”
You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”
Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you.
He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss.
A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”
He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it.
There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor.
The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it.
He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed.
“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed.
“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring.
You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown.
“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes.
Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”
You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae.
“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”
He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised.
He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again.
“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom.
His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time.
He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to.
You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t.
Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could.
He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”
You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”
That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow.
Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched.
You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again.
You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply.
He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”
This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.
After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really.
You thought the same about him.
Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again.
Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.
And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up.
In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less.
But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost.
He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along.
So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again.
This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.
~
A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni
Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress
#steve rogers x reader#reader x steve rogers#reader insert#marvel fanfiction#captain america x reader#to topple#a giant#by Moni#captainsimagines#Part Six#Chapter six#avengers x reader#mob fanfic#enemies to lovers#friends to enemies to lovers#Smut#steve rogers smut#LOVE THE ANGST#love the smut
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Between the Lines || IX
PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff
Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.
[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]
Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.
Note: Everyone last chapter: “I’m ready for Wanda to fucking ruin me.” LMAO SAME.
PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII
PART IX of XX
Count: 4782
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Antique.
That was the best way Natasha could describe your place. You had more warm colors for your walls and older styled furniture that made her feel like she was transcending time.
They had just gotten back from visiting Allison, who was beyond ecstatic to see you and Natasha. Her mother seemed to be all better now, and no longer needed the extra care for Allison. The babysitter you had recommended last time seemed to be working just fine for them when her mother needed to pull extra shifts, but you still promised to visit Allison when you could.
"Your place is nice," Natasha smiles softly, and you turn your head around to smile back at her as you grab a cup from the cupboard.
"Really? David says I have the taste of an old person. To my defense, I am old," you snort.
Natasha chuckles, "I like it."
She feels a little excited because it looks like you're making coffee for her, and it feels like it's been such a long time since Natasha has had your coffee.
"Even though I've lived so long and have adapted, this style makes me feel more at home," you softly explain, and Natasha's eyes turn tender.
You finish brewing Natasha her coffee and bring it over to her. She takes a sip, sighing with bliss.
Grinning at her, you're about to say something else when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Pulling it out, you check to see that it's from David.
"We've got to head out," You tell the redhead. "David's got a lead for us."
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
Your search didn't yield much more than what David could find, which was annoying. Luckily, you didn't end up having to use your gift and instead used compulsion to find information.
Natasha trailed along, watching you work but also making herself useful when she could.
Within two hours, you felt like you already found out what you could before heading back to shower and head off to the Stark tower again.
When you get there, you already see David talking with Steve and Maria.
"Fatalities?" You could hear Steve ask.
"Only when engaged," David says as he catches your eye when you enter the room. "Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, and something too fast to see."
"Maximoffs," Maria mutters, and you're curious about Wanda's powers. They seemed similar to Tatyana's, but you want to confirm if Wanda's powers had only come from the scepter.
"That makes sense that he would seek them out. They have something in common," Steve said as he saw you approaching. "Find anything?"
"No more than you did, apparently," you shrugged.
"Well," David says as he's looking at his tablet. "Nothing in common anymore." He flips the tablet and a picture of Strucker's dead body and the word 'PEACE' written in blood on the wall next to him.
"Lovely," Maria huffs.
You see Clint on the phone just a couple feet from you, and Steve notices him too.
"So, you're not coming home tonight even though you explicitly said you would," you here a feminine voice on the phone.
"That's a negative," Clint says.
"This better be your last one for a while, I don't care what your boss says," you hear the woman respond. In the background, you could also hear two kids screaming, 'Is that dad? Can I talk to dad! Dad!'
"I answer to you," Clint responds almost dutifully.
"...If you miss the birth of our child...I'll kill you..."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Barton," Steve interrupts, "We might have something."
"Gotta go," Clint says quickly before he hangs up and turns to face you all.
"Who was that?" Steve asks.
"Girlfriend," Clint's eyes travel to you and David because it was obvious he knew you had heard him.
Steve doesn't pay it any mind as he leads everyone back into the room. You and David lag behind because Clint is walking beside the two of you.
"Listen--"
"It's none of our business, Clint," you cut him off with a wave. "We didn't hear a thing."
Clint sighs and gives you a smile of thanks.
"Although, you should be more careful if you're trying to keep them a secret," David says as he tapped away on his tablet.
He then holds up his tablet to you and Clint, a photo dated two years ago of Clint and his family on a ride at Disneyland.
"This you?"
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
You've known as a vampire, it's impossible to get headaches, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like you have one.
Everyone is getting ready to get out onto the Quinjet to take off to the next location to find Ulysses Klaue as you'll be likely to find Ultron and the twins there.
There isn't much for you to ever prepare for, so you laze around in the kitchen before Natasha strolls in, the first to finish.
"Hey, you," she smiles, and you walk over to her.
"Hey, yourself," you smile as you inspect her suit. "Got everything?"
"Hopefully," Natasha shrugs.
You know you'll most likely meet Wanda soon, and something inside you tells you it'll bring chaos.
Nothing ever truly feels like it's over, but you have Natasha.
You look at her with slow eyes.
Sometimes it feels wrong to be this happy with Natasha, to allow yourself that kind of privilege. But there are no words you could use to describe what Natasha is to you and how you crave her.
Natasha peers through her lashes, catching the look in your eyes. She walks backward, pulling you with her until she hits the counter before she hops herself up onto it. Pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, you end up between her legs, your hands automatically around her waist while hers are around your neck.
"When you have that look on your face, it makes me want to just...eat you," Natasha licks her lip, and you can't help but laugh lightly as she traces her thumb over your bottom lip.
"You know how funny that sounds, right?" You smile.
Natasha merely smirks as she lowers her head to press her lips against yours in a soft kiss.
She tastes like remnants of peach candy, and you hum into her mouth. Licking her bottom lip, you hold her hips tighter.
Good.
She smells good.
Like vanilla and dry leaves.
You bite her bottom lip gently, appreciating the way she moans lightly. It seems to excite her more as her heart pounds in her chest. You pull away, lowering your head as the tip of your nose drags against her side of her neck.
You inhale as Natasha holds your neck a little tighter.
You could hear it, smell, the blood rushing through Natasha's veins.
It would be so easy.
Natasha would be delicious, you just know it. Her blood hits every part of your sensories, and she would feel so good.
Your teeth drag lightly where your tongue had been.
'You can't.'
The voice and words ring in your head loud and clear.
Immediately, you pull away, almost panting as you do.
Natasha calls your name, but you shake your head.
"I just need a moment," you tell her, taking in a deep breath.
You haven't felt this way in so long, you felt like a child experiencing bloodlust again.
It had been so easy throughout the years to control it, knowing the consequences if you did it.
Yet, having Natasha tested every limit you had again.
You never thought you would ever experiencing wanting to drink from someone again.
"I'm sorry," Natasha says hesitantly. She had been so caught up in the moment, and you felt so good.
For a moment...she...she wanted you to bite her.
You clear your throat as your head clears again.
"Don't apologize," you give her a tight smile, "I should have better control."
Natasha is about to say something else when you help her down from the counter.
"C'mon," you say as you pull her along, "we should head to the Quinjet."
And Natasha's words die on her tongue.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
"Don't compare me with Stark! He's a sickness!"
You all come in time just as Ultron has sliced off Klaue's arm as he rants about Tony.
"Ahh, junior," Tony appears with Thor and Steve behind him. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."
"If I have to," Ultron tilts his head.
"Daddy issues, am I right?" You lean over to David to say, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"He's not a villain without one," David says back.
You hear a laugh disguised as a cough from Pietro. He smirks at you, and you give him a slight quirk of your lip back.
But then your eyes travel next to him.
It hits you in the gut.
A million flashbacks happen to you, and you feel like someone just knocked all the air out of your body, and you're breathless. It's like you're going through a spiral of vertigo until you look her in the eyes.
She looks like her.
You were prepared to see the similarities, but this was more than you had expected.
But you knew it was not Tatyana.
You blinked, eyes focusing on Wanda.
She was staring at you too, but she didn't seem sure of what to make of it.
"You two can still walk away from this," Steve's voice interrupts the two of you.
"Oh, we will," Wanda rips her gaze from you, tilting her head as she smirks sardonically at Steve.
"I know you've suffered," Steve acknowledges, and for a second, you see rage flash through Wanda's eyes because while Steve knows, he doesn't truly know what they've been through.
Ultron lets out a groan of disgust. "Captain America," he says with a certain tone to his voice. "God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war."
"I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but..." Ultron tilts his head, looking at Steve.
Thor tries to urge Ultron to keep the peace, but Ultron obviously declines.
"What's the vibranium for?" Tony asks.
Ultron looks as giddy as he can. "I'm glad you asked since I wanted to take this time to reveal my evil plan!"
Suddenly, Iron Legion Bots break through the glass and start attacking.
You and David have split up, he's taken off after Pietro and you to find Wanda.
Taking out Klaue's men along the way, you keep walking in the direction you could hear her in.
Her footsteps were rather light, and she had a distinct smell of cinnamon and orange blossoms.
"Thor! Status!" Steve yelled into the earpiece.
"The girl tried to warp my mind. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty," Thor trailed off.
You knew immediately what was happening.
"Nat," you called worriedly.
"I'm fine," she reassures you.
"David?" You called next.
"Still good," he grumbles. "Fast little bastard."
"Wait," David calls. "She's got Natasha and Steve in a hallucination."
You're about to turn around immediately to go back to Natasha, but David stops you.
"Don't," he warns. "Nat's still okay, just caught up in whatever she's seeing. If you want to put an end to it, catch the girl."
You grit your teeth but huff in agreement.
You stand along the empty hallway, breaking the wrist of a man who tries to charge at you. Flinging him over the railing, he lands on sacks of dirt and groans.
It seems you don't have to go to Wanda because you hear those light footsteps behind you, creeping up.
She stands behind you, unknowing you can hear her heart beating as she raises her hand, tendrils forming at her fingers.
You turn around abruptly, grabbing her wrist. Faced with Wanda's shock widened eyes, you quirk your lip at her.
"Cute," you tell her, "but it won't work on me."
"And why is that?" Wanda asks accent heavy in her voice that sounds so familiar to you.
"To control--compel, me to what you want, your will has to be stronger than mine," you tell her, pulling her closer by her wrist to show that even as close as she was, she couldn't use her mind control on you. "So? Do you still think you can play your little mind games on me?"
Maybe you had tugged too hard, but now Wanda was too close. Her eyes staring into yours as if she was searching for something. Lips slightly parted, you could feel her breath on you.
"Why?" Wanda murmurs as she tilts her head slightly at you.
"Why what?" You return.
"Why do you stare at me like that?" Wanda gets closer.
You should pull away. Disarm her, and go secure Pietro to finish the mission.
But it feels like there's an electric pulse in the air that seems to keep you rooted.
"Stare at you like what?" You husk.
Wanda licks her lips, drawings your eyes. "Stare at me like you want to save me."
"You're helping a homicidal robotic manic who wants to destroy the world," you quirk your brow at her. "I think that warrants needing to be saved or at least some sense beaten into you."
"He will save the world by putting an end of the Avengers," Wanda hisses. She draws forth the red wisps again in her other hand, holding it close to you. "Perhaps I can't 'play my little mind games' with you. But power is power."
Immediately, you feel Wanda's power surround your body before she uses it to force you through the window. You find yourself staring at the sky, blinking as you fall.
You swiftly turn around, positioning yourself upright as you land on the ground, creating a good-sized crater. There's a momentary crack in your ankles from the pressure and height you fell from, but as quick as it happens, it heals.
You look up, shards of glass falling around you, and you sigh.
It seems your suspicions were correct, that Wanda's powers were genuine. The feel of it was too raw and similar to Tatyana's.
And that made things complicated.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
"Hey, hey, look at me," you coo as you hold Natasha's face in your hands, turning her to look at you. Her eyes are unfocused, and honestly, it's a little challenging to get her to actually look at you.
You had arrived shortly back into the facility after hearing Clint saying they needed to move. Clint had been trying to shake Natasha out of it, but it wasn't working, and so you stepped in.
"I have no place in the world," Natasha mutters.
You had a pretty good guess about what she was seeing, and so did Clint.
"How do we get her out? Do we just have to wait?" Clint asked you.
"No," you say, stroking Natasha's cheek, tilting her face up as you look down into her eyes. "We overpower it."
Your pupils explode into liquid pools, swirling as you forced Natasha's to do the same. It would take a little longer, with Natasha not even being lucid.
"Look at me," you tell her softly. Natasha blinks. "Wherever you are, it's not real."
You start to see flickers of speckles in Natasha's eyes and lick your lips.
"Come back to me," you compel her softly but with a slight bite in your tone. "You have a place in the world. Here, as an Avengers, with Clint and everyone else." The fog is clearing from Natasha's mind, your eyes responding more to yours and your words.
"With me," you faintly say.
"Come back."
Life comes back to Natasha, her eyes no longer dull as she comes face to face with you. She's got a massive headache and slight nausea.
Natasha swallows as you still hold her face in your hands. She wants to say something, but Tony interrupts.
"Guys, I could really use some help. Maybe try the lullaby again?"
You look at Natasha, but she's in no shape to try to go against the Hulk.
"The rest of the team is down," Clint responds.
You look around to see David trying to get Steve out of his hallucination.
"David will handle things here. Get everyone back onto the jet. The twins and Ultron are probably long gone by now. I'm going to help Tony."
You look once more at Natasha, who lifts the corner of her mouth.
"Be careful," she tells you.
"Aren't I always?" Giving her a wink, you take off in a blur.
"Coordinates, Stark," you say into your earpiece.
"Getting my ass beat right now!" Tony groans.
"Coordinates, Stark, not status. I already know you're getting your ass beat," you smirk.
"Don't be a dick," he mutters, but you're unsure if that was to you or Banner. He tells you where to meet him, but it gets easier to figure out as you get closer, and you can hear glass and building being shattered, and Banner's roars along with civilian screams.
You pick up speed, reaching there as you stand a few feet away, and Tony spots you.
"What's the plan?" Tony asks.
"Get him away from the city. Damage's been done, but we should try to stop him from doing any more," you see Tony struggling to hold him down. His suit is bulked up, and you're sure he prepared this specifically for Banner.
"Where do we bring him?" Tony's punching Banner in the face, trying to get him to 'go to sleep.'
"Few miles from the Quinjet. There should be some open space."
"Alright," Tony says, having no other choice but to trust you.
He gets VERONICA to send in a new Hulkbuster arm, using it to suction in the Hulk's arm as they take to the skies. You start to run in the same direction they're going.
"Alright, what do we do after we get him in the area?" Tony's overworking the jets in his feet while the Hulk struggles to get the upper hand in the air.
"Can you trap him in his spot?"
"I have one extra set electric bars, but he dug a hole in the ground to escape it."
"Just set them in the ground, wide berth and electrodes on."
You enter into a clearing, and Tony drops Banner, breaking the ground as he lands.
Immediately, giant plates dig into the earth, surrounding Banner as he gets electrified. He screams, arching his back before he turns and snarls at you.
"You gonna try this compulsion thing?" Tony asks through his mask.
"Try being a keyword," you mutter, "I have a feeling he's not going to be receptive towards it."
"Is anyone receptive towards compulsion, really?" Tony grumbles.
"Yeah," you smirk, "humans."
You walk around the perimeter of the plates, and the Hulk turns his body as his eyes follow you.
"You're angry," you acknowledge. "She made you angry."
The Hulk only roars and glares at you, the surrounding area of his eyes were red.
You lock eyes, pupils expanding as you try to reel him in.
"But look around you, think if there's anything right now to be angry about," you say to him. His head moves side to side, but you can tell the Hulk is fighting it. "Are you really angry, or did she just tell you you're angry? Who are you outraged at? The civilians who've done nothing to you? Tony? Me?"
You kept circling, keeping your eyes locked on his.
"Yourself?" You asked, and when the Hulk lets out an enraged yowl, you know you've hit the spot.
"You need to calm down," you lick your lips. "Before you do something that will really make you angry with yourself."
The Hulk is huffing and puffing as he continues to stare at you, and you try to expand the compulsion stronger.
For a second, you think it's working. The Hulk is shaking his head, stumbling backward.
But as quick as that happens, suddenly he punches himself in the face, knocking himself out of your control before he lets out another bellowing scream.
He starts running even as the plates send out electric shocks, bombarding through one of them as it breaks.
"He's too ravaged for me to even try to influence him to calm down," you tell Tony quickly as you take off towards the Hulk.
"I think I got that," Tony has to move out of the way before the Hulk steamrolls him.
"New plan," you say, running towards Tony.
"What are you--" he starts to say, but you cut him off.
"Throw me onto his back!" You leap, forcing Tony to catch you as he spins around once before whipping you in the direction the Hulk took off in.
The speed propelled you straight towards him, he didn't even see it coming as he was approaching the Quinjet. Everyone had come outside, hearing his thundering footsteps as he ran in their direction.
You latched onto his back, wrapping your tiny arms the best you could around his neck with crushing force, almost enough to snap his windpipe.
He chokes, feet digging into the ground as he abruptly stopped. His hand comes up to your arm, and you only have a second before he forces you to release him via breaking your arm.
You open your mouth, teeth sharp as venom pooled to them before you dug it into his neck.
He was grumbling at you before, but he was definitely screaming at you now.
The sound of agonizing wails leaves his mouth as he falls to his knees. You let go of his neck.
Falling forward, the Hulk writhes in pain, and you could see the venom traveling in his veins as they turned a dark green on his skin. He was crawling as he groaned.
Soon, the venom overtook his system to the point Banner began to change back to a man. He lay there, moaning in pain as Tony came forward along with Clint, who threw a blanket over him.
"What did you do?" Tony asked, and David came out, blurring over to carry Bruce into the Quinjet.
"Forced him to change back," you mutter as you also got onto the Quinjet.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
David put Banner on a makeshift bed while Clint flew the Quinjet out of the area.
Bruce was thrusting off the table as he still writhed in pain while everyone else stood around.
"What's happening to him?" Steve asked. He was covered in dirt and grime, and he looked a little defeated.
"The venom is breaking his cells down," you say, eyes drifting to David, who nods, restraining Bruce down.
You could hear more questions being fired, but you didn't answer. You threw the blanket off of Bruce, and everyone could see his veins, dark and poisoned-looking.
Leaning over, you began to bite him various places until the discoloration in his veins began to disappear. The seizing slowed down in Bruce as he came to a restful stop, but beads of sweat ran down his forehead. He was still breathing heavily, and his eyes remained closed.
"He's going to have to sleep that off," you spitting out blood into a nearby bucket, and wiping your mouth. David hands you a bottle of water, which you use to rinse your mouth, spitting it out until your mouth was clear.
Natasha comes up to check on you, putting her hand on your back softly as you try to give her a smile that ends up being more of a grimace.
"What was that?" Tony asked as he inspected his friend.
"I told you," you say as Natasha gives you some gum. "Venom can be used in three ways. That was one of them."
"But what does it do," Tony emphasized.
The mint flavor spread throughout your mouth, and you were thankful for a change in taste. Lately, it's been getting harder to control your thirst.
"When venom is used to harm, it attacks the cells in your body. Specifically, it makes them explode. It's painful as it travels through your veins because it's basically shredding everything in its path as it moves. The more venom you inject, the faster the deterioration goes," you say.
"Why did you bite him again?" Steve asks.
"There's only one way to reverse it," you peer over to Bruce's sleeping form. "Only the venom of the vampire who inflicted it can undo it. I injected the healing venom to counteract it. He'll be fine, maybe just a couple scars, and feeling sore for a few days."
"We need to lay low while we can," David interrupts as he looks at his tablet.
"That's a great idea," you hear Maria chime in through the intercoms. "The new is loving you guys. No one else is. There's no official arrest warrant for Banner, but it's up in the air."
"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asks.
"Already on scene. How's everyone?" She replies.
"We took a hit, they're shaking it off right now," you mutter.
"Well, stay in stealth mode for now, and don't come back here," Maria warned, knowing it would be ugly.
"So, run and hide?" Tony seems displeased.
"Until we find Ultron, there are not many options on the table," Maria sighed, disconnecting after that.
Tony goes over to Clint, slapping his hand on Clint's shoulder. "Need to switch out?"
Clint shakes his head, "Nah, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now would be the time, we're still a couple hours out."
You look over to Clint, noticing the dark bags under his eyes, and for the first time, you see how tired he must be.
"A couple hours from where?" Tony asks.
"A safe house," Clint answers, looking at you and David, and you know immediately where he's taking you.
You turn to Natasha, and it seems she knows as well.
Taking the time to sit near the back, you hold your girlfriend in your arms, stroking the side of her arms. Natasha's worn, you can tell by the paleness in her skin, and she's upset.
You sit in silence for a good chunk of the time. As much as you hate it, the image of Wanda doesn't leave your mind. There was something that brewed deep within you, and you felt haunted.
It isn't until Natasha decides to speak and breaks your thoughts.
"I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't gotten me out of that hallucination," Natasha says quietly to avoid drawing the attention of the others, but now used with David unintentionally being able to listen.
"I wish I could've been there sooner," you say at the same level of quietness, but Natasha shakes her head.
"Sometimes," she starts, licking her dry lips, "it's so easy to live every day like that part of my life didn't happen. Even though it's my sole reason to do the things I do. I want to clear my ledger, but it's..."
"It's complicated," you finish for her when she drags.
It's silent for a few minutes as the two of you rest, you lean your head on top of Natasha's, breathing slowly as you try to comfort her.
"I had never thought about wanting kids," Natasha starts quietly again, and you hum softly in the back of your throat to tell her you're listening.
"I'm not even really sure that I do or not, but then I get reminded that I can't either way."
You hold her bicep tighter, turning your head to press a kiss to her head.
"It's okay to mourn the loss of the choice," you murmur.
Natasha nudges herself closer to you, inhaling your scent as it eases her. The images don't quite go away. They linger in her mind, a wretched memory of everything she's endured.
"I suppose it's easier," Natasha mumbles. "It's one less thing to worry about, one less thing that would matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier, even killing."
"Don't do that," you admonish her gently. "While those things can be true, don't make yourself out to be a monster."
Natasha remains quiet, not the kind where she doesn't believe you, but the kind where she doesn't quite have the right words to say for once.
"You act like you don't already have things that would matter more than a mission, things that you don't worry about," you lift your other hand up, using your fingers to tilt her chin until she's facing you.
Your lips are so close, the warmth vibrating between the two of you.
"Because you already do, don't you?" You murmur. "Everyone on this ship is your family--I'm your family, just as you are mine."
PART X
#natasha romanoff x reader#Wanda maximoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#wanda maximoff imagine#wandanat x reader#natasha romanoff x you#wanda maximoff x you#black widow x reader#scarlet witch x reader#natasha x wanda#Natasha x reader x Wanda#avengers x reader#avengers imagine#avengers reader insert#marvel x reader#marvel reader insert#modern avengers au#mm: my fics#series: between the lines
684 notes
·
View notes
Text
A ridiculously needed defense of Mia Winters
(and I say ridiculously because I don't particularly care for her as a character. But I care for Ethan, and I care that he went through so much shit to save her and never gave up or even thought to, so by extension Mia needs to make sense to me so I need to have a clear image of her in my mind to justify Ethan's ridiculously brave actions in re7, and his devotion to her in re8. But also because my experience watching the show Once Upon a Time and engaging with its fandom has taught me to not hate on characters when they're not fully fleshed out and their bad actions are not adequately explained, especially when said characters are women written by men. And considering that Ethan himself is not fully fleshed out in re7 either, it's no wonder Mia's character is suffering)
So. I'm not here to tell people they're wrong to hate or even just dislike or distrust Mia. That's not my point. But if you do continue to read after the title, you're checking in on your own accord. And my main gripe with people hating on Mia is that they seem to dislike her character when the game itself didn't give much of a good basis on her character in the first place. So yeah, being a woman myself and having seen how fandoms work, I do tend to get a little pissed when people (no matter their gender) are so ready to hate on female characters for no good reason.
Now, I'm not saying Mia is a saint, far from it. RE7 makes clear she holds a lot of the responsibility for what happened, and she even accepts that. But she's also been given redeeming qualities, if you're willing to look for them.
The first glimpse we get of Mia is of her sending a happy message to Ethan, then immediately after we see her admit her wrong and warn him to stay away from her. There's a reason we even get the second video, and that's called setting. The writers wanted Mia to be shown as protective over Ethan while also accepting responsibility from the very first moment - and it's something that repeats itself when we do find her. She apparently has no idea she asked Ethan to come, she self-harms in an effort to stop hurting him, and even through Eveline's control she manages to tell him to leave her.
(like idk why people take lightly the fact that she fucking banged her head on a wall, giving herself a concussion, all in an effort to protect Ethan from what she knew she had turned into but leave it to a fandom to underplay self-harm I guess)
But that's only from the beginning, and from the confused POV of Ethan and a first time player. In Mia's flashback, we see that she'd been given orders that should Eveline get out of control, she had to be eliminated. Now, Eveline had grown fond of Mia, and she was super powerful herself. Taking a powerful being on your side and using them to be on top? That's a super villain origin story if I ever heard one. But Mia doesn't even consider it, from the first moment that civilians are getting in danger, she's ready to eliminate Eveline.
And that's when the first holes start appearing. For what kinds of wars did Mia know that Eveline was made for? How long had she been working with The Connections? Was it before or after marrying Ethan? How did they approach her? How did they know she'd be okay with making a bioweapon to assist in wars? And as herself, how deep was she willing to go in terms of human experimentation?
That's all stuff we have no way of knowing, and frankly any answer, from one extreme to the other, can be assumed. For all we know The Connections approached her, and before she had even realized she was assisting them in creating Eveline. So in general I feel it's kinda unbased to jump on the Mia Hating Train so easily when there's so much missing from the whole story.
Though again, I’m not here to tell people what to like and what not to like. It’s just that I feel there’s a bit too much focus on how Mia is such a horrible person and the true villain of the story and like, it’s getting super tiring, entering fandoms and seeing people being so fucking pissed at some characters. Like, ok. You can’t like everything. But it feels like some people are trying to make that everyone else’s problem.
And the victim blaming is not helping, either. People say all of what happened in re8 is Mia’s fault because she didn’t tell Ethan the truth about what he is, and like. Are we fucking serious. Like I see people call Chris dumb for not explaining the story to Ethan from the beginning, and how it could’ve made things much more simpler if he had, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone call him the villain of the story (if anything because without him being cryptic we wouldn’t have had the story in the first place). He had his reasons to be cryptic, and if you pause your hate train for a moment, you’ll realize Mia had her reasons as well. We don’t know how long she knew that Ethan was all mold - she wasn’t even conscious during the moment Jack killed Ethan in the first place to see how serious the injury was. For all we knew she only noticed while being pregnant with Rose, or after she was born - so we can’t really blame her for not speaking up. If anything, considering she did realize it and still she stayed with him and knew he and his feelings mattered (”We matter, Ethan! You matter!”) is a big thing. She also seemed to want to tell him, but like, how do you even begin such a discussion? Ethan also saw that she was troubled; you can’t convince me that they were like this, with Ethan knowing she was holding something from him, and Mia knowing and knowingly having a child with him who would definitely be infected by Mold, for three fucking years.
Like at some point you start going like “They can’t have shown us such a fucking toxic relationship and expected us to feel sad for Mia at the end.” But like, people do believe that yes they intended them to be so toxic and Mia to be such a horrible person and for us to just shrug at it, so of course they would blame everything on Mia and not like, idk, Miranda, who was actually the one actively harming the entire Winters family. Or that Rose getting kidnapped was because Mia had been working with The Connections, and that’s how Miranda found out about her, and I’m like, y’all can’t separate butterfly effect from actual blame, can you? Ethan and Mia decided to have a kid two whole years after the Baker incident - when they felt they were safe, on the clear from whatever could be chasing them. They were on witness protection, the newspaper Ethan looks at in the beginning says that Ethan and Mia’s whereabouts are unknown; they were understandably feeling safe to move on with their lives, until someone from The Connections found where Mia was, and through them Miranda was able to learn about Rose. That’s an entirely different concept from Mia being careless or carrying the entire blame for Rose getting kidnapped or Ethan being self-sacrificingly determined to save her. But of course, let’s hate on Mia and then seriously ship Ethan with the villains because they have redeeming qualities and Mia doesn’t ig
I don’t know. Maybe I’m a bit too jumpy of people hating on female characters. But on the other hand, it says a lot that I don’t really care much for Mia or her character, so it’s not like I feel defensive because my fave is receiving hate. If anything, Ethan is my fave, he gets much more uncalled-for hate and I just shrug that off because who gives a fuck about them haters right. But with Ethan... I feel that the hate he receives is mostly because he subverted expectations; he’s not your average trained badass who knows what he’s doing and remains calm through anxious situations, he’s the exact opposite, and people hate on him for not being the former like... you’re missing the entire point of Ethan purposefully being clueless, panicking, saying cringy-ass quips, and honestly, your fucking loss lmao. With Mia, it feels like people choose to see the worst in her when there aren’t too many things to see. And knowing stuff about the world of gaming, it’s fucking telling. In the world of fandom, that’s just fucking annoying. I hate stuff too. But after a certain point you learn to not make your biases everybody else’s problem. Or at least you should. What would I know, being here hoping fandoms could be calmer places.
#Mia Winters#I don't even wanna tag this with other main tags#cause I'm pretty terrified of the fandom#like#hating on stuff doesn't make you look SmartTM and an IntellectualTM#it just makes you look edgy bitter and unwelcoming
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
pink, morning glory and mugworts?
Pink: Where is home?
*
I've seen this answered in practical and like...philosophical ways, I'm going to try both.
Philosophically I'm not sure I've found it yet.
Practically, my home is in Western Australia. It's a little cottage with a back garden (which is rare for cottages to have gardens in this suburb) and the government owns like 30% of it because we're basically 'welfare poor.' Or we were when we got this house. There's two lovely but aging cats, an art/writing studio where I spend most of my time when I'm not sleeping, an electric piano, and it's cluttered, because there's so many books folks, so many.
*
Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up?
*
For a few years we lived in a house with no hot water because we couldn't afford it (Mum talks about how hard it was hand-washing all the clothing in the cold) and that bedroom was pretty bare.
Then it was a space that I just filled with as many books as I possibly could, with a fairly even split between non-fiction and fiction.
And then when I was a teenager, it had a pagan altar in it (I got into witchcraft very early, lol), a single bed, a lot of books, and an upright piano. I never had any technology in my room growing up (like televisions etc.)
There was always a lamp or nightlight though because I'm afraid of the dark when I sleep (partly because I have a tendency to hallucinate after waking up from nightmares or flashbacks). To this day I often still sleep with a light source on.
*
Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years?
*
Ah, no. So after years of repression of Stuff in my past/childhood, I developed full-blown severe PTSD at 13/14 (because of an attempted sexual assault, lol), which wasn't diagnosed for a while after I developed symptoms that made me sure I was going to be committed (I used to have a really unhealthy relationship to the concept of psychology and mental health) and I didn't know PTSD existed as anything except 'something that war veterans get.' It wasn't like the internet was around at that point to teach me differently. (It was around, but Google wasn't, and Wikipedia wasn't).
(Suicide CW) I first attempted suicide when I was a young child, and as a teenager I mostly just spent a lot of time trying not to keep doing that, trying to hide my PTSD from everyone, telling myself that I was actually batshit insane, being bullied pretty aggressively because guess what I am not neurotypical and that was way more of a problem back then for me than it is now (I was physically injured a few times) etc.
In my later teens though, I did make some good friends, and I have some okay memories from that period. But I am very, very grateful not to be a teenager anymore. So grateful. Endlessly grateful. Going through puberty on top of all of that was like. A ride. And then like literally a year later I grew a tumour and the surgery nearly killed me, and that was my grand opening into turning 18, lmao.
*
From the flower asks meme!
#asks and answers#memey goodness#personal#suicide cw#maybe i should've just said 'no' to did i enjoy my teenage years#it was a gauntlet#it was hard for me as a teenager#also we were very poor#and poverty adds another dimension to being a teenager#but it actually wasn't by any means the biggest or hardest thing i was dealing with#and by that point i was also used to it
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
what are the gayest destiel episodes you can think of?
ohhhhh i gotchu hold on (this is basically gonna end up being a list of my fave destiel episodes lmaooo)
ok so just a heads-up, i don’t really remember much from s10 onwards (a lot of those episodes i haven’t actually watched since they aired whoops) and i’m currently stuck at the beginning of s9 on my complete rewatch soooo this list focuses only on the first half of the show. i might do an update if i ever manage to finish my rewatch (and remember to post an update at all when the time comes)
ok here we go:
4x16 - On the Head of a Pin
dean calls cas “cas” to his face for the very first time
dean is all “you can't ask me to do this, cas. not this.” (about torturing alastair) and uriel is all “who said anything about asking”, but cas is all: “this is too much to ask, i know. but we have to ask it” and that is the moment that dean realizes that cas cares about him and his feelings/well-being and that’s when he demands to speak to cas alone
and it’s only after cas tells dean he really doesn’t want dean being forced to do the torturing that Dean gives in (”i would give anything not to have you do this”)
like, it’s so obvious already how much cas cares about dean already and we’re only in s4
cas is even starting to go down the path of disobedience (with a little help from anna admittedly, but still. he’s starting to consider it)
they’re so?? comfortable?? with each other. when cas visits dean at the hospital in the end
4x22 - Lucifer Rising
dean literally makes an angel fall in this ep, i mean come on... (the way cas shows up behind him all “you asked to see me” after dean smashes the angel statue cracks me up every single time gsdlka)
dean desperately trying to get cas to help him (bc he knows that IF there’s an angel that would help him it’s cas)
cas is too afraid though and dean gets pissed and literally breaks up with him (D: "you spineless, soulless son of a bitch. what do you care about dying? you're already dead. we're done." C: "dean-" D: "we're done!")
this is the episode in which cas makes his decision and chooses dean over heaven
5x03 - Free to Be You and Me
in the previous episode sam and dean had a fight and split up. this episode starts out with dean being pissed and annoyed and just in a bad mood in general
when cas shows up and asks for help dean is very grumpy and doesn’t want to help at first but then reluctantly agrees
throughout the episode, the more time dean spends with cas the better his mood gets (honestly this point is worthy of its own separate post, i have enough screenshots lmao)
like he’s even smiling at the end of the ep when he’s talking to cas in the car!! (except then he looks over and realizes cas has left mid-conversation again and that smile is wiped right off his face and i’m sad :( )
when they’re in that brothel dean mostly has eyes for cas, even when chastity the hooker is standing right next to him
after the brothel incident when dean is cracking up and goes “it's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. it's been more than a long time. years.” like... buddy. your crush is showing.
and the way cas smiles lovingly at dean laughing next to him
dean be like: “personal space” also dean: *reaches into cas’s coat without hesitation* *fixes cas’s shirt and tie without hesitation*
also the funniest thing about the whole “personal space” moment in the motel is that there was more than enough space for dean to step aside and increase the distance between him and cas if he had really been all that uncomfortable but he just. doesn’t. no he just stays right where he is
when raphael is trapped in the holy oil and threatens cas all “castiel, I'm warning you. do not leave me here. i will find you.” and cas goes “maybe one day. but today, you're my little bitch.” and walks away and dean tells raphael “what he said” like the impressed and proud boyfriend that he is
inside jokes (see here)
some more iconic quotes/moments from this episode:
“cas, we’ve talked about this. personal space”
“so, what, i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”
“well. last night on earth. what are your plans?” “i just thought i'd sit here quietly.”
“let me tell you something. there are two things i know for certain. one, bert and ernie are gay. two, you are not gonna die a virgin. not on my watch.”
5x14 - My Bloody Valentine
hunter husbands!!
the way that dean is not in the mood for hook-ups on valentine’s day and then goes to stare at cas like That
that iconic phone call at the hospital where cas just appears in front of dean who nearly runs into him
cas be looking at sam while listing all the things people can be starving for, and then looks at dean before saying “love”
ok i know this doesn’t have that many points but really this entire ep is great, i very much enjoy all the interactions between cas and dean in this ep
like when dean is not hungry and cas is all “you're not gonna finish that?” and grabs the plate without waiting for an answer bc they’re this married in s5 already
6x20 - The Man Who Would Be King
i mean... this one is obvious isn’t it
this ep is literally all about how cas is doing everything for the winchesters aka dean
the way sam and bobby cautiously voice their suspicions of cas to dean has the same energy as carefully breaking it to a family member that you think their partner is cheating on them
and when they trap cas in the holy oil and confront him dean also acts like a betrayed wife(gn)
which is such a stark contrast to how sam and bobby react to the betrayal (they’re mostly just like “eh this sucks” while dean is emotionally affected)
and even in the following episodes dean is way more affected by cas’s betrayal than sam and bobby are and dean is the one who argues the most with cas (honestly, this entire arc is literally that post that’s all “how do i know dean is in love with cas? bc sam isn’t”)
ok but the holy oil scene is truly like a soap opera (i mean... “where were you when i needed to hear it?” “i was there. where were you?” and dean looking back at cas one last time before running away)
this is their first big break-up and it takes them until the s7 finale to make up
special shoutout to cas watching dean rake leaves
this ep is a LOT
7x17 - The Born-Again Identity
dean’s FACE when he sEES CAS. and then DEAN’S FACE AGAIN when “emmanuel” is all “what’s your issue?”
dean’s face all throughout that first scene with “emmanuel” and daphne, I’M
“you know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. you know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... i always could. what cas did... i just can't – i don't know why” BECAUSE YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM, IDIOT
the way dean interrupts all irritated when meg goes “i think we're gonna be good friends too” at “emmanuel” (jealous bf much gsdlksafd)
the way dean kept the trenchcoat just in case so he can give it back to cas should he return (which ofc he did)!!!!
7x21 - Reading is Fundamental
yet another one of those “how do I know dean is in love with cas? bc sam isn’t”
at the beginning of the ep at some point sam’s phone rings and when he says that meg (who is watching over cas at the mental hospital) is calling, dean is quick to stand up and even tho meg called sam, dean is the one who ends up having the phone call with her lmao
also dean has no chill during that phone call lmao (he’s irritated when he finds out meg didn’t call them right then and there as soon as cas woke up and he’s immediately concerned when meg says cas is different, while sam’s just standing there holding his phone out to dean, being all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ lmao)
dean: *pissed af at cas* also dean: *almost breaks his own neck at the speed with which he whips his head around at the mention of cas’s name and is desperate to know his location when cas calls meg after dean blasted him away with some other angels at the hospital*
ok no but then meg tells cas their location and cas zaps into the car and it’s hilarious how quick dean is to interrupt whenever cas turns his attention to meg in that scene
8x07 - A Little Slice of Kevin
dean seeing cas everywhere
when you see your best dudebro outside the window in the middle of a storm but when you get up he’s gone and you feel like crap because you could’ve made it out of the war zone together and you just cannot fathom why he didn’t try harder and you just don’t understand why you’re feeling what you’re feeling (and judging by dean’s reaction to sam’s suggestion, clearly it’s not survivor’s guilt)
dean’s FACE when cas suddenly appears behind him in the bathroom
jacting joices: the infamous boner scene (yet another example of “how do I know dean is in love with cas? bc sam isn’t”)
jacting joices pt 2: sam and dean are talking case and then cas walks over to join the conversation and there is literally no reason for dean to check cas out (see here)
during the rescue mission when cas zaps into the room and has a stand-off with crowley and then when dean finally manages to break into the room, can i just say... the way dean immediately rushes to cas (who’s ended up on the floor) and grabs him by the shoulder before he bothers to look around the room
D: “that was a bonehead move back there. you could have gotten yourself killed. why didn't you wait for me?” C: “well, i didn't get killed. and it worked” D: “and if it didn't?” C: “it would have been my problem.” D: “well, that's not the way i see it.”
the purgatory flashbacks when dean keeps insisting that cas is coming along with them back to earth and won’t hear otherwise
“i did everything I could to get you out – everything! i did not leave you.” “so you think this was your fault?”
“look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? for failing you like i've failed every other godforsaken thing that i care about! i don't need it!”
i know we hate buckleming but this episode, man. this episode
8x08 - Hunteri Heroici
i was gonna put this as a special shoutout but then it turned out that i had more to say about this ep than i initially thought
it’s the way dean and cas keep gravitating towards each other in the first half of the episode. no seriously, they somehow keep ending up beside each other and you start wondering “what’s personal space” (friendly reminder that this is the ep right after they’re finally back together again after purgatory)
the married energy and the bickering
the “talk to me” scene where cas finally opens up to dean (but then interrupting moose strikes)
at the retirement home dean to sam and cas: “no flirting you two” then CUT to: dean and cas sitting at a table with an elderly lady who is staring at cas with heart eyes and... lady: “you are so pretty, charles” dean: *must look at young nurse’s butt immediately to distract myself from gay thoughts*
i’m sorry but the way he smiles so widely at cas at one point when they’re talking to that lady, like, she’s just called cas a bounder and dean’s amused about that but his amusement is not in any way malicious and his face is just so full of love when he looks at Cas, it’s embarrassing really (see here)
9x06 - Heaven Can't Wait
ok so i haven’t watched this ep in like 5 years so my memories on this aren’t as fresh as with the previous eps but! it’s the way that cas and dean act exactly like exes (who are still in love with each other) in this ep
dean’s face as he’s staring at cas through the shop window
dean’s smile when he shows up inside the shop
the entire “i can’t let you do this cas” scene in the car
the infamous fanfiction gap
special shout out to:
5x18 - Point of No Return for all the bickering (“you know what? blow me, cas”) and especially “well, cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… i got laid.”
6x10 - Caged Heat for the pizza man and dean’s reaction to all the megstiel (like jealous bf much?)
6x19 - Mommy Dearest for the strong married energy dean and cas give off in this ep (honestly, all their bickering, it’s glorious) (friendly reminder that this is right before tmwwbk)
7x23 - Survival of the Fittest for the “i’d rather have you cursed or not” scene
8x02 - What's Up, Tiger Mommy? for the purgatory flashbaks with that one monster calling cas dean’s angel and the reunion scene by the river with highlights such as “nice peach fuzz” and “i prayed to you cas, every night” and “i have a price on my head, and i've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you” and “cas, we're getting out of here. we're going home” and “cas, buddy, i need you” and “let me bottom-line it for you. i'm not leaving here without you. understand?”
8x17 - Goodybe Stranger for “i don't know, dean. if he's so sketchy, then why were you praying to him?” and the entire crypt scene (yes this is a big one and yes i’m still only putting it as a special shoutout and yes it’s bc of the megstiel content this ep ok bye <3)
#there is also the late s9 ep where cas chooses dean over an angel army#then i vaguely remember 11x03 being a good destiel ep#and the s12 ep with the ''i love you. i love all of you''??#i know people are still going crazy over the mix tape but i don't remember if the ep itself was very gay#oh and 13x06 - tombstone gets talked about a lot as well#when cas comes back to life at the end of the widower arc and dean goes from extremely depressed to happy af#15x09 was a pretty good one as well i think#and ofc 15x18 with the big ''i love you''#anyway this was fun#i should really continue with my spn rewatch#but the thing is that i'm actually journaling and making notes#and that requires brain#and i currently just don't have the energy to make all this effort just for a tv show#who knows if i'm ever gonna finish this project#oh well#asks#anon#destiel#spn#lmk if i've missed anything (from s4-s8 that is)
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
🥗 anon, the answer to your quiry is-
I just have A LOT of free time at work lmao I just sit here and think about Xiao,,, at this point I’m down to my last braincell and all I use it for is dispensing ideas for our favorite Yaksha. I tend to specialize in writing angst but Xiao makes me so soft I can’t do it to my poor boy. Though I still indulge in making him insecure bc that’s my Brand(TM) apparently lmao.
To add onto my piles of fluff for him:
If his s/o sings and/or dances, or really just any hobby of theirs, he is practically entranced by their performance. He literally can’t look away. They just become 100x more beautiful in his eyes, even if what they do isn’t classically “good,” they’re having fun and showing a part of themselves to him and that’s enchanting enough. He has such a hard time opening up himself and to see his most precious person do it for him no questions asked...basically, He’s Soft. Doesn’t mean he’ll SAY anything about it, but you can tell by the way you’ve had his full attention for the past hour and there’s no indication of that changing anytime soon. He gives you all his attention bc even if he doesn’t partake in your hobby or gives a lot of verbal affection, he can at least give you this.
Some day, if you ask him enough time with those puppy eyes he’s weak to, he MAY sing with you. But only with you, not by himself! He may die of embarrassment if it’s just him...
- 💠
Wow, okay, what a mood. Last braincell holding on for Xiao ahahahaha
This brainrot actually gave me war flashbacks to Alatus' Weakness because as you know, he has the Nuo Dance of Evil Conquering and he wishes to dance one day without the need to vanquish evil, or something like that. If ever he's soft and open, maybe they'll dance together oh that's so cuteee.
Also to point out that Xiao is a generally curious boy because of his detachment from human society, so him being so focused on s/o performing is absolute chefs kiss and soooo accurate, I love it
29 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bbcaddictedteen
BBC Addicted Teen
bbcaddictedteen
BBC Addicted Teen
nucleoplasmic
how did u get here
panchopumar-blog
Pancho Photos
bad-guardian-ideas
Nightmare Fuel In Hyrule