#I might go more in depth about the chapter book cause I enjoyed it and the character interactions were just 10/10

[ninjadudettekira]

Albedo isn't an evil Ben Tennyson, in this essay-

Fuck it the essay is being written cause I'm still seeing people claim he's an evil Ben Tennyson and I'm here to debunk that. (Aka Allie saw a tweet when she originally typed this out, they're entitled to their opinion but they're wrong lmao. No hate to said person tho.) So buckle the fuck up because this is long. Essay under the cut (If you’re on laptop, I think on mobile it doesn’t have 'keep reading’ thing.) 

Aight so: -Alien Force: 

What canon states is the fact that Albedo make his own knock off Omnitrix. And it was stated that Albedo didn't want Ben to have it because he was human and 'unworthy', so he made his own and got stuck with Ben's DNA. Azmuth himself even states that all Albedo wanted to do was restore himself to his original form.

Azmuth decided to keep Albedo in the form he was in because of rebellion and the fact he "put others in danger" and "wanted to use it in his own ways."

So here's the thing. In Good Copy, Bad Copy we only know about Albedo going after Forever Knights, which we've seen time and time again get their ass kicked by Ben. As far as we know that was the only thing Albedo was doing, he wasn't hurting anyone besides them. Once he came across the trio, he really only went after Ben.

Sure he foamed Gwen and Kevin to the wall to get them out of the battle, but he really only fought Ben and left the other two alone for the most part. Albedo knew who Ben was, if he was "evil" wouldn't he have gone after actual civilians using Ben's form? No all he was trying to do was fix his fuck up.

And what did Albedo get for it? Going to prison while trapped in human DNA. Yeah no shit he decided to work with Vilgax after that point, during The Final Battle and no shit he became bitter. (Altho Ben really couldn't do anything to help Albedo let's be real here. He was dealing with the Highbreed shit and needed to keep the Omnitrix.)

Albedo also, for whatever reason, was kinda against the idea of going after Ben's friends until Vilgax explained. Probably so the audience knew why that happened I guess idk. But he was more indifferent towards it all, and questioned why they were going after Gwen and Kevin. He probably did it because he thought it was gonna lead to him becoming a Galvan again. (And come on only tying Gwen and Kevin up? Y'all can do better than that.) He'd do whatever it took to get his Galvan body back, and since they were Ben's friends it was fine going after them.

-Ultimate Alien: 

AND AFTER BEN'S IDENTITY WAS REVEALED ALBEDO DIDN'T REALLY DO SHIT. So like Ben's entire villain gallery came to Bellwood to go after Ben's family, but all Albedo did was make Ben 10 Live. He even says so in Double or Nothing that he's been doing it since being stranded after Vilgax's ship blew up. And we can assume money went towards getting the parts for the machine to turn him back to Galvan. Tell me would an evil character be a fucking theater nerd???

EVEN WHEN HE WAS GALVAN DURING THAT EPISODE HE SAID HE WASN'T GOING AFTER BEN ANYMORE. He had what he wanted. He was confused that Ben still thought he was going to go after him after being Galvan again. All he wanted was to not be stuck as a human anymore, and when he had that he was going to leave and never see Ben again....until that was fucked up. Of course Albedo's gonna fight Ben after that point. He wasn't going to take it out on Hugh after that whole explanation on why Hugh lied to the trio. So Ben got the brunt of that. Did Ben deserve that? Probably not.

Hell even BEN HIMSELF was happy for a second there that Albedo was cured, and genuinely felt bad when Albedo revealed the motivations behind the machine. Yeah Ben seemed like he was about to murder Albedo at the end there with Ultimate Echo Echo but he was NOT doing okay during UA let's be real. (That's also another whole essay but that's also based on other people talking about how Ben got darker during UA. There was a justifiable reason that Ben went straight to thinking of murdering Kevin after his 3rd mutation and I kinda get it. But again that's another essay that I gotta find sources for since other people talked about it and I can't remember who did.)

Night of the Living Nightmare all we know was that Albedo wanted to stick the Dream Eater on Ben. Probably as a way to steal the Ultimatrix but all he had to do was knock Ben out for a bit and take it. It's easily removable, he of all people should know that. He also has Ben's voice so it really shouldn't have been that hard, but I guess Albedo wanted Ben to suffer like he did.

-Omniverse:

(Side note before I get into this, I was typing this on my phone and when I app switched to do research on an episode the fucking app reset and I lost all my Omniverse talk so gdi here we go with a retype of that section.)

Alright so we're gonna tackle Omniverse Albedo. I know I usually don't touch OV Al with a 10 foot pole and chalk it up to "Bellicus and Serena fucked up the universe when they reset it" but that's a cop out without explanation so we're explaining.

Aight so the first time in OV we see Albedo is a flashback episode (Trouble Helix) where he's working with Azmuth, and he's indirectly the cause of Malware getting more powerful. In the episode he's more indifferent towards Ben than anything, and very respectful towards Azmuth. He's more concerned if Ben could defeat Malware later on and asks Max if Ben's able to do so. When Malware is supposedly defeated, Albedo kinda sticks it in Ben's face when Ben gloats about defeating him. Nothing really too bad, or anything to indicate that he hated Ben. Hell he wasn't even against Ben wearing the Omnitrix at the point? Something had to have snap, but nothing tells us that.

Next time in OV we see Albedo, it's him changing places with Ben cause of Khyber in The Ultimate Heist (How did Albedo work with Khyber? Who the fuck knows, plot cause there's no explanation for it.) Albedo is able to pull off acting like Ben for a few days because he acts how Rook wants Ben to act so he's none the wiser. (Which that's a whole other essay about how people see Ben but other people tackled that.) Then when he was able to get what he wanted, he reveals that it's him. He gets the crystal he needed to stabilize the knock off watch and he can transform again. He's back to being able to become a Galvan, but Albedo ain't leaving after that.

He comes back a few episodes later in A Fistful of Brains and gets Ben to chase him through Undertown so Khyber can kidnap him. Albedo fights Ben later on with the Ultimate Galvan form and goes after Azmuth to get his brain. Ben remarks about why Albedo doesn't just go away because he can be a Galvan again, and Albedo explains it's cause of the imprisonment he faced (either by Azmuth/the Plumbers, or being trapped with human DNA, or both.) and the chili fries craving.

The episode continues into For a Few Brains More where it’s just them trying to get Azmuth’s brain back. At the end of that episode Azmuth traps Albedo as an 11 year old Ben Tennyson. Which btw was a dick move on Azmuth's part, sure Albedo snapped but there could've been other things he did. Azmuth probably remembers what Ben was like at that age, and wanted Albedo to suffer more than he did. (There's a trivia thing about the crew saying that Azmuth would make Albedo a toddler if he had to, which that's fucked. But that's besides the point. I can’t remember where I read it, but I swear I’m not making it up.)

After that we see him in the No Watch Ben episodes. (And Then There Were None/And Then There Was Ben) Vilgax and Eon got all the "bad" Bens together to go after the "good" ones, and Gwen 10. Albedo shouldn't have even been a part of that, he's not even a BAD Ben, just someone who looks like him with a watch that's not a hero. Everyone else was their own version of Ben, or in Gwen's case she had the Omnitrix. 11 Year Old Albedo 100% wasn't thinking clearly working with Vilgax since Vilgax already betrayed him before. *coughTheFinalBattlecough* 11 year olds can't make good decisions like that. But I'm just speculating on why Albedo worked with Vilgax again.

After the No Watch fiasco, he's working with Vilgax a THIRD time In Malgax Attacks after all the betrayals to release Malware's remains. (Which he should know is a bad idea from years prior but kid Albedo probably isn't thinking straight with all the human emotions he's dealing with at that age.) He thinks he killed Azmuth. (I actually haven't seen that episode when writing this so gonna go do that and come back.)  And like a month later I actually get around to seeing the episode. This episode was like near the end of Omniverse, so I guess they wanted one last Albedo episode but had no clue what to do with him so we got a 3rd partnership with Vilgax and an out of the blue motivation. So basically Albedo's motivation in this episode is to take Azmuth's place and see his 'secrets of the universe'. I- How would Albedo not have known Azmuth's secrets? Granted I think in the Albedo triology, he wanted to be above Azmuth so I don't think the plot came totally out of left field. They worked together on the Omnitrix, Albedo should've known about that stuff??? Also since when did he want to rule Galvan Prime??? What would that accomplish??? I was confused the whole episode about why Albedo was even there. I guess because he knew Galvan Prime’s defenses and could attack it with Vilgax. I never wanted to punt a fictional 11 year old character more. End of the episode he has a concrete guard on his right wrist and shackle on his left leg and was sentenced to clean Galvan Prime from the mess he caused for the next 30 Galvan solar cycles. And that's the end of Albedo in the franchise. He's back on Galvan Prime, but stuck doing community service. (I think people forget that this episode exists since every redemption fic after OV doesn't reference this episode and only references up to the No Watch Ben episodes.)

Okay slightly away from Albedo for a second, but was Malgax REALLY that powerful that Ben was defeated so easily??? Like Ben the Omnitrix can quick change, you can change aliens easily. Despite Skurd being cool, you have more powerful aliens you could've used and you barely tried. Idk I think I just forgot how powerful Malware was since I haven't seen Omniverse in awhile. I don't wanna start a new essay but what the f was that episode? Wasn't bad, and there's good moments but, definitely not on my rewatch list. (Also wasn't worth the amount of effort I had to do to download it since I plan to use it for Albedo edits cause I got ideas.) -Non Canon Things:

In Ben 10 Alien Force: Vilgax Attacks video game, there's this line that I gotta mention: "Is it my fault that I'm stuck looking like you?!... Oh wait it is." In Ben 10 Ultimate Alien: Cosmic Destruction video game all I know is that he was beat with a wrench at the end of the game. In Double Trouble, one of the CN comics from the Action Pack series, he pretends to be Ben and Sandra and Carl 100% believe him till Ben comes home. (Aka Albedo is a little shit.) Albedo gets trapped in a teleporter.

In Double Negative, a chapter book that was put out that took place during AF Season 3, but was non-canon. Guess who Albedo is working with? Fucking Vilgax. I read this book online a few months back, and guess what the plot is? Albedo pretending to be Ben with Julie realizing that something is wrong and getting Gwen and Kevin involved. I just wanna talk about this book for a second, Albedo ends up working with the group to get Ben back. Ben was sent to Incarcecon(? can't remember but he was in prison in Albedo's place I'm guessing? He started a riot and tried to get other prisoners out.) I remember this one joke Albedo made about "Looking like Tennyson" and I think it described him smirking in order to fool Vilgax and genuinely working with Gwen, Kevin, and Julie. They used Kevin's ID mask so Albedo could pretend to be Ben, which was neat ngl. His interactions with the group was actually fun, and omg I wish this was somehow canon. At the end it almost seems like Albedo was turning over a new leaf, but nope it was all a ploy to get Ben's Omnitrix, Azmuth teleports in and puts Albedo back in prison. But for a split second Ben thought Albedo went back to being Galvan, and seemed happy about it.

Summary:

UAF Albedo and Omniverse Albedo aren't the same. UAF Albedo just wanted his Galvan body back, but OV Albedo snapped and everything that happened was the result of that. Maybe he snapped after he got the Dream Eater stuck on him, and that pushed him over the edge but who knows. He just wanted everyone to pay, even after he had what he wanted. I wouldn't call him "evil" and I hate how the franchise kept treating him as if he was just an "Evil Ben" when Albedo has ALWAYS been his own person. He just wanted to fix his fuck up, but when he couldn't do that took it out on everyone because human emotions be a bitch on your psyche But maybe I just hyperfixate too much on a fictional character.

Btw: This is sorta Azmuth's fault that Albedo snapped. Ben could have done more, but he's a teenager who was dealing with a Highbreed war the time they met again. He probably wouldn't have gone against Azmuth at that point. Azmuth could've turned Albedo back to normal because even he knew Albedo only wanted the Omnitrix to go back to being a Galvan, but instead imprisoned him then turned him into an 11 year old.

And no this isn't a "Albedo did nothing wrong uwu" post. Albedo was 100% at fault for turning himself into Ben, I'm not denying that. As well as making the choices he did, when all he had to do was explain without the lies. We're also only hearing Azmuth's side of things, and of course since Azmuth is "good" we're expected to take his side. We never heard Albedo's side fully because the narrative didn't allow it. The narrative wanted Albedo to be "bad" so that's what we saw. The narrative didn't allow Albedo to fix his fuck up. Kinda sad really, especially how the franchise treated him at the end.

TL;DR: Albedo has never been an evil Ben, but snapped as time went on because everytime he tried to become Galvan again it was always screwed up. And when he finally became Galvan again, wanted to make everyone suffer for the things he was put through and I can’t really blame him.

[pinkyqil]

Sickness | a.Putellas x j.Hermoso

Hidden secrets series

Hidden secrets Masterlist

Mention of : throwing up, migraine

Been a few days since jenni had arrived from mexico to spain. it all felt very euphoric to alexia the love of her life was with her everything going smoothly until it wasn't.

It had all started this morning alexia and jenni all cuddle up in bed,until she felt a wave of nausea telling her that she needed to go too the bathroom.that how she found herself hurrying out of bed so that she could throw up.

She had her head over the toilet bowl throwing up whatever was down herself.

Jenni who had quickly noticed an empty bed without her lover in it. made her way too the bathroom where she heard vomiting sounds.

Where she found a quite ill-alexia looking alexia hovering over the toilet. Quickly making her way towards her and slowly rubbing her back to ease out everything.

"There let it all out don't hold it in".still rubbing circles around her back. "do you need some water?". jenni asked alexia who had seem to stop throwing up for now.

All she could do was shake her head montring a no but instantly felt it thorbing causing her to thrown her head back from the headache she had just received.

They were meant to go visit the girls at practice today, so that alexia could surprise them with a jenni visit but at the moment alexia could bearly stand up without falling back down. Her whole body was aching and she felt heavily exhausted.

"Looks like we aren't going anywhere today". jenni said while helping alexia get up. "Look's like it I'm really sorry jen I know that you were looking forward to seeing the girls". "it all alright ale we could always reschedule it right now all you need is too rest up well".

Jenni lead alexia to the bath so that she could wash up and feel more relaxed, before leaving ale alone she left a quick kiss on her forehead before leaving to go cook a quick meal.

While in the shower alexia could only think about the little human that was growing in her, hers and jenni little miracle. she could finally have the little family she wanted. It had always been football nothing else.

after she had tore her acl it like her whole world crashed down but now she has something to hope on and to care for. she felt happy and overwhelmed all at the same time.

She finally got out of the bathroom making her way towards her room where she found jenni with a plate of food waiting for her. She found herself getting dressed in one of jenni hoodie that was left laying around and pair of sweatpants.

Alexia had noticed the little bump forming, the last few weeks she had noticed her body had a few changes. She mentally made a note to book an appointment with her dietitian and too book another appointment at the hospital for a check up.

Finally alexia made her way to jenni who was waiting for her in bed with along with a plate of food ready for her.

The rest of the day both of them had spent it in bed together enjoying the small moments that they had to themselves.

A/n: a lil more depth into their relationship together next chapter I promise to make it more interesting and as always ideas and aks are welcome and there might be a few spilling errors but I'll correct it later

[annmariethrush]

Day 5: Portrait

Cas gets his phone stuck in portrait mode and asks Dean for help, leading Dean to see the photo he was trying to look at.

on AO3 or below the cut

“My phone won’t turn sideways.”

Dean raised his eyes from the book he had been staring at for almost an hour now.

“What?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the grumpy angel standing over him.

“Dean, my phone won’t turn sideways.” Cas repeated, glaring at Dean, clearly already frustrated since he had resorted to asking for help.

Dean, partly due to a lack of understanding still, partly in hopes of being a little shit, slowly took the phone from Cas’s hand, turning it to the side so that it now lay horizontal in Cas’s palm.

Cas squinted harder, glaring at Dean like he was considering lethal force. “No, Dean. The screen. The picture on the screen won’t spin so it can be bigger and fill up the screen.”

Dean began to laugh heartily, “Cas, is your phone stuck in portrait mode? Let me see it.”

Shoulders still shaking with laughter, he took the phone from Cas’s hand once more. Turning it on and typing in Cas’s passcode, Dean quickly opened up settings to search for orientation lock. Less than thirty seconds later, Dean had resolved the problem and was about to hand the phone back to Cas when he thought to ask, “Wait, what were you trying to look at?”

Cas reached for his phone without answering, only for it to be snatched away as Dean pulled his hand back. “Nuh uh mister, if you have a tech problem, you gotta show it to the tech solution.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows and bit his lip in an obnoxious attempt at sexiness. Cas flushed, though clearly not in response to Dean’s stupid antics. “I was trying to look at a picture… it’s quite old, so it’s too grainy when I zoom in so I wanted to see it just a little bigger.”

Dean’s face slipped into curious confusion before he returned his eyes to the phone. Opening up the running apps, he swiped back to photos and found a picture he had not seen in a very long time. It was from the night he took Cas to the strip bar when he thought that his conversation with Raphael might mean certain depth. Dean had taken a quick photo of Cas from across the table while they were waiting for their drinks, partially out of fear that it would be the last time he saw him, and partially because the look on his face had just been so priceless. Dean couldn’t remember sending it to Cas, but angels had their ways.

When Dean thought to look back up at Cas again, wrenching himself from his memories, he found Cas looking sheepish with a blush still lingering on his cheeks. “Didn’t I take this photo?” Was all Dean could get out, though he didn’t think it was what he really wanted to ask.

“Yes,” Cas answered slowly, “it was my last night on earth.”

Dean waited for Cas to continue, but when he didn’t, “Why do you like it so much?” Dean didn’t want it to come out harshly, but he thought it did anyway so he kept going. “I mean, I like it cause I had a great time that night, but I don’t remember you particularly enjoying yourself…”

Cas smiled fondly, seemingly able to see the humor of the situation, even if only in hindsight. “I…” He paused, face contorted as he tried to phrase his thoughts appropriately. “I like seeing myself the way you see me. At the time, I had not yet developed a strong connection to this physical form. I have become more fond of it since then, and being human helped ground me in this shape, but still when I think of myself, it is something more akin to my true form. But I like the reminder that, even then, this is what I looked like to you and this is what you think of when you think of me.”

Cas finished his explanation with a resigned smile, having just laid bare his heart, and waited patiently for Dean’s thoughts to catch up.

After a moment, Dean began, “That’s… That’s not what I think of when I think of you.”

Cas’s face dropped and he quickly started to apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that you—“

“No no no, that’s not— you’re more than that.” Dean stopped for a moment and licked his lips hesitantly before resolving himself. “When I think about you that’s the face I see, yeah. And the trench coat and suit. But you’re… I can feel your energy, Cas. You’re bigger than that. I can’t see it, but I can feel you in the whole room. Sometimes I can almost swear I bump into your wings when I walk past you. It’s… your true form is there, I can sense it, even if I can’t see it. But mostly when I think about you, it’s not even what you look like at all. Like, yeah, your face is good and your hair and……. Yeah, but you’re just a cool guy to be around. I think a lot more about how funny you are and what a pain in my ass you are and how kind you are and how much I care about you….” Dean trailed off, blushing as he realized how much further he had gone than he meant to.

Cas smiled broadly, “I see… thank you, Dean.”

Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah bud, don’t worry about it. I wish I could take a picture that had all of you in it to show you what I see.”

“It’s okay Dean, I often wish that I could show you exactly what I see when I look at you. Your soul is beautiful, even if you can’t see it.”

With that, Cas turned to leave, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trench coat, guiding himself out of the room as Dean gripped the back of the chair next to him and tried not to let his eyes get misty. He wondered how he could be so lucky as to have someone who found him beautiful.

[chnets]

A hidden despair (Richard Papen fic)

This story is inspired by chapter 3 of the secret history, which is one of my favourites of the entire book.

I just want to give a little warning before this begins that there are multiple mentions of suicide in this story. So if that might upset you keep scrolling

(Word count: 1126)

I felt as if I was fading away, like a plastic bag discarded on the ground, no longer serving any purpose other than floating aimlessly; the wind carrying it so far away it is forgotten about entirely. Any notice of its existence is minute and uncaring.

I was being carried away by this wind myself. With each passing moment the hurricane enveloping me would grow in size, massive gusts of wind causing any recollection of any memory that ever brought me joy to vanish; and it was as if this perpetual misery is the only feeling I have ever known or ever will know. 

The sun began to set at around four o’clock, so in the weeks leading up to Christmas I spent the majority of my time in darkness as I would wake up at the crack of dawn to walk to Dr Roland’s office and I would lock myself away like a recluse and work until dusk. On my exhausting and desolate walks to Hampden each day, I couldn’t help but reminisce over the peacefulness of Autumn; and how I would go about my days without this staggering amount of unhappiness clouding my mind. 

Previously my life had been quite miserable. Miserable but bearable. Recently it had transitioned from disconsolable to utterly unbearable. I began to frequently fantasize about my death. At first they were quite distressing thoughts and would be rather upsetting. But soon they became my sole source of comfort on freezing nights in the warehouse, as depressing as that might sound. 

As the weeks progressed and the temperature steadily dropped, the idea of throwing myself off the footbridge overlooking the river that I walked across on my way to work became increasingly more appealing. It was quite a thrilling thought to know I wouldn’t have to endure the rest of Winter and my mind would quiet; I would be still and silent until I was found in the Spring. 

I thought about my friends, who were enjoying spending this Christmas in a warmer climate, likely not giving me much of a passing thought, and wondered if they would even acknowledge my absence when they returned to school; or if they would miss me at all when they found out what had happened to me. I tried to guess how long it would take for the people in my life to get over my death and return to their normal lives, to stop dwelling  on the things they could have done differently and accept that I’m gone, if they would do that at all. The only remaining proof to passers-by that I ever lived at all being my name scrawled on a piece of stone; the person I once was and the life I lived long discarded in my half-hearted eulogy.  

I decided that evening, sitting in Dr Roland’s office, that I would write a few letters to my friends. They were more letters of confession than apology. I ended up writing much more to Henry than I previously thought I’d be able to; and it made me think more about my relationship with him. Although the amount of words  we exchanged were minimal, I always felt comfortable in his presence. Would Henry miss me? 

I remember at the end of one of my last classes with Julian before Winter break, he told me that Henry is a much more emotionally complex person than he allows others to see. Thinking about this made me realize our friendship wasn’t one sided at all, Henry just found it terrifically difficult to let people see him in any other light than a cold-hearted and stoic individual who spoke infrequently. 

This discovery made me think about the implications of my plan in a greater depth, and if it was worth all the trouble. The warmth of the office seemed to permeate through the solid ice my body seemed to have become; and the ice melted for a moment. That feeling was enough for me to second guess myself, until I looked out the window and was reminded of the harsh cold that had sunk deep into my bones, fixating me in this endless winter and subsequent incessant melancholy. This presentiment caused my heart to sink to my feet at the reminder of the merciless January wind awaiting me, and the fact that I wasn’t sure I could bear another night in that warehouse. 

As I was packing my books, I sealed the letters and tucked them away in my jacket. I said a goodbye to the office that had treated me so well the last few weeks and locked the door a final time. I replaced my brisk walk for a slow stroll, trying my best to admire the bare trees and the crunch of the snow under me that dampened my socks with each step despite my boots. Tonight being a particularly grim and miserable night did not do much in aiding me find a good reason to wait until morning to call Henry. 

I reached the phone box and stepped in, the wind slamming the door against its frame with a jarring crash. I fished in my pockets for quarters and punched in Henry’s number. As I let the line ring, I shuddered as the unrelenting gusts of wind blew in through the gap in the door of the phone box. I leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, hearing the line ring for what must’ve been the thirtieth time. I looked at my watch under the dim light of the streetlamp and saw it was half past two in the morning. Henry wouldn’t be awake. I went to replace the receiver to begin my walk to the bridge.

‘Hello?’

My eyebrows shot up in equal parts surprise and relief.

‘Hi Henry.’

‘Richard? What’s the matter? Are you okay?’

Tears immediately pricked at my eyes as I heard somebody else’s voice for the first time in five weeks. A greater comfort that it was Henry’s.

‘Sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.’ Was all I could manage.

‘You didn’t.’ He reassured me. ‘What’s happened?’ His tone alone caused an audible sob to wrack my body.

I felt a little bit of that weight being lifted off my shoulders at the sound of his voice. God, I missed him.

‘I need your help.’

‘Stay where you are Richard, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He hung up the phone.

And I did what he said. I sat down in that phone box and waited for him. Hearing his concern through the phone put all my other thoughts to rest. I ripped up my letter to him, leaned my head against the cold glass and waited.

[abbysbasement]

LIFE WITH TINY/CHIBI ABBY

was thinking about that Abby sackboy from yesterday, and felt like having a little Abby of my own was a life need. insp a little bit by those early 2010s fanfiction of ‘owner manuals’ for chibi characters! enjoy your own adorable tiny abby. sfw/fluff

🥺 I truly cannot decide if she’s plushie sized or super tiny, hamster-sized BUT SHES LITTLE.

- at first glance, the idea of having your own tiny abby feels like having a house pet, right? but in reality, she’s a very intelligent, sensitive little creature, and it’s a job in its own keeping her happy, healthy, and alive.

- a bit of a crybaby, and if she feels rejected, will go off into a corner and sulk. will not talk to you about it. if you ask her if she’s crying, no, she never cries! (with tears pooling, obviously.)

- please don’t lift the poor thing up by her braid, it gets her dizzy and upsets her. hold her gently in two palms, or scooped into one of your arms! abby will typically nestle up into any loose clothing you have, and it isn’t uncommon to feel a strange heaviness on the back of your neck and find her sleeping in your hood!

- hyperactive and easy for her to disappear on you, only to find her tearing up your towel rack, or spinning around while riding a Roomba. Try setting up an endurance course for her to do if you enjoy peace and quiet, because she can and will turn your house inside out if you let her.

- abby’s favourite passtime is reading and loves to curl up on your chest while you read a book to her, especially if she gets to pick out the book. she loves fantasy books, not so much nonfiction, and if a book is too scary, it’ll give her bad nightmares. it’s common that if your tiny abby won’t fall asleep, the best practice is to read to her until she dozes off. sometimes, this might backfire, and you’ll end up being asked for ‘one more chapter’ until the night ends.

- refuses to sleep in or let you sleep in. rises early in the morning way before the rooster crows, and will nudge your head over and over until you wake up. if that doesn’t work, be prepared to get jumped on until you’re ready for your day, she needs to pick off your breakfast, remember?

- a heavy eater, and even if you make her her own meals, she’ll usually end up picking off of yours anyways. truly eats much more than you’d imagine such a compact frame to hold, and if you let her, will eat eggs until she gets sick. loves treats, and will sit quietly if you leave her sitting next to a plate of strawberries or sweet apple slices. if she ever gets a hold of caffeine, good luck.

- practically has no concept of danger; everything is a fun adventure to her no matter how much you try to keep her out of harms way. you might have to baby proof your entire house, because no matter how many times you tell her not to do something, a tiny abby is a miniature juggernaut, and a little shit who will get into anything any everything. known to become uneasy and disoriented at extreme heights, so it’s best to keep valuables on a high table or shelf.

- as an extension to her occasionally self-serving nature, tiny abby is prone to attitudes and throws a fit when she’s told no. you’d have her sitting on your desk while surfing the web or working, and she’d get so frustrated after being told that you weren’t ready to log off that she’d try to somehow find her way down herself. Next thing you know, against both of your better judgements, she’s swan diving off of your desk, leaving you to catch her moments before she collided with the hard floor. Somehow this causes you to dote and baby her more, so mission failed successfully?

- even though she’s comparatively so small, abby is bigger and stronger than most where she’s from, so she has a strong urge to be useful, even when she’s completely out of her little depth. will pick up and put down random items to show off to you, and will get disheartened if you don’t look and cheer EVERY time. yes, even if she’s picked up your wallet 6 times today. typically, this takes the form of helping you out with all of your chores in any way she can: holding out your ingredients for you when you cook, or adding the detergent pods to the wash when you do laundry (even though she accidentally fell in once while putting them, oops!) when she’s mad though? expect her to take out her frustration by throwing all of your shit on the floor, pushing your cup of tea off of your desk like a cat, or hiding all of your stuff in spots only she can get to. unfortunately, she’s too cute to be mad at for long, even when she feels all too satisfied with her mischief.

- definitely uses it to her advantage. needs attention, and will have a fit if she isn’t constantly by your side, or if you leave the house for too long, as she gets really lonely. fortunately, there are always new friends for your tiny Abby to make, and she places well with a Tiny Manny or Tiny Lev and Yara. if you value your mental health, personal belongings and inner peace, do NOT place her with a Tiny Ellie, as they are not compatible and *will* raise hell and cause catastrophe.

- is very enamored by the concept of glass, and got knocked out for a couple of minutes by running full speed into a door once. put her in front of a mirror, and she’ll be entertained for hours wondering how you got two of her, how there’s even more than one of her to begin with.

- it’s recommended to sleep abby in her own area, such as a little bed, or a pillow with a tiny sheet or blanket, but sometimes, if she truly trusts and love you, your tiny abby will come and sleep with you on her own accord. just be careful not to roll over her!

[fictionfixations]

Awake and Unafraid | TMA Fic (Fic Rec)

Martin's new job at the Institute isn't what he was expecting. Along with Tim and Sasha, he's struggling with a disorganized Archive, no direction from their slightly-devious boss, and the growing feeling that they're in danger. Which is not helped by the cryptic warnings from a far too-knowing voice on an ancient tape recorder calling themselves the Archivist.

its. so fucking. cool. AND IT MAKES SENSE, like genuinely. with an actual plot, and i really enjoyed it. There was no part where I felt like 'I have to stop reading' because it's too much? It was perfect. Well not perfect perfect obviously, but I had a really enjoyable experience binging it lmfao. If you don't know what TMA stands for, its The Magnus Archives, its basically like a horror podcast. This is where I admit most of my knowledge comes from other fanfics because I'm still on like season one? And I do this thing where I tune out background noise accidentally, but I wouldn't be able to fully focus on it because I'm a multi-task person, so I've been slowly doing the task of reading the transcripts for every episode out loud instead, which helps but I get a headache cause MAN they're long.

anyway this is Martin/Jon, which I'm still figuring out ships but I'm assuming that's the big whole OTP that nearly everyone ships in the fandom, but if that's not your cup of tea (cause that's understandable, I think Bakudeku is like an OTP but some people find it uncomfortable due to the previously kinda toxic relationship?) here's your warning. Uh. also. as the tags say. "The Usual TMA Warnings Apply". Which. uhh. if you're squeamish at just the mention of stuff maybe. don't. Or maybe if you don't like horror?? I've never actually been affected by horror books unless they're super gross or go extremely in depth about depictions of like, say, gore, so I can't actually say if the fic is scary at all, but I found myself very invested. Also uhh, Martin POV. If you've been looking at my bookmarks recently (why are you?) then you'd find it's kind of like a mix of TMA and HP x Twilight rn. Opposite sides of the spectrum kinda where ones are either romance-typical with Twilight which I've never seen, or character bashing. And then TMA's here like 'there are things more powerful and blah blah blah--' But to be fair..

At the very left is Twilight x HP. And the very right is TMA. Although a few tabs are out of sight because I have too many open. lmfao. Anyway I've been rambling. Um. Um. UH. JUst. give it a shot??? You kinda get the gist of what's going on after you read a few multi-chapter fics because it develops a timeline and they generally tend to be close to the 'start' (which I don't know when. but. worm usually.) and then you can kinda notice based on similarities between fics what's usually canon. imma shut up now (anyway martins a def fav that you might see around if i have more fics to share)

[devildomimagines]

Could you do the brothers (Lucifer especially) reacting to an MC who jokes all the time, seems carefree and stupid but eventually they find out that MC is actually a very deeply caring, responsible and intelligent person. They act like an idiot likely as a response to some adversity in their own past. Sorry if its complicated, i just like the idea of the brothers almost discounting MC only to realise they weren't looking deeply enough

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to, it's been busy in my personal life. The older brothers are under the cut so this post isn’t a mile long lol. I hope this is worth the wait!

Belphegor

King of rolling his eyes at your antics.

Belphie is maybe the most knowledgeable about humans so, of anyone, he might be able to see a little deeper than the surface.

On one of the rare occasions you got Belphie out of the house, you two came across a Little D that was clearly lost.

He didn’t pay it any mind since he figured the Little D would just teleport to their master but you insisted on helping.

As you knelt down to the creature Belphie stood back and watched as you quickly soothed the Little D’s worries and it hopped into your arms. 

You brushed past Belphie to carry the spirit across the street and start talking to the shop owner. The two of you laughed and Little D hopped over to the shop owner’s hands.

“The shop keeper knows that Little D’s master and will give them a call,” you explained as you wrapped your arm around his and began leading him down the road.

“You’re amazing MC,” Belphie murmured, such a small act really changed his view of you.

Where he thought you were foolish in trusting him after what happened in the attic, he realized that he wasn’t a special case of forgiveness, you were just a truly caring person. 

“Hm, what was that Belphie?” You asked but he wasn’t sure if you actually didn’t hear him or if you were teasing.

He wasn’t too proud to admit his feelings but his face did heat up a bit, “I said you’re amazing.”

Beelzebub

He’s pretty caring for a demon so he could see you were too, although maybe he didn’t know the depth until today.

The two of you were enjoying a meal in Hell’s Kitchen. Beel was absorbed in the food that he didn’t at first notice you were distracted.

When you asked for a moment and got up to grab the attention of a waiter. Beel watched on curiously, he was hoping you were asking for more food.

The waiter nodded along and ducked into the kitchen. You waited in that spot and you caught Beel’s stare. You waved at him with a smile.

He waved back with a fried shadow bat in hand.

You laughed and then the waiter was back. They handed you a to-go container, you talked for a second, probably thanking them and then made your way across the restaurant, walking right past your table.

Beel thought to call out to you as if you had somehow accidentally overshot the table but you made your way right out the door.

He started to get up to go after you, he shoveled a few things in his mouth not totally satisfied but more confused why you were leaving.

Then he saw you through the window. He stopped moving as you approached a small demon looking into the restaurant through the window. Beel sat and watched the scene unfold.

It jumped back away from you, probably not having seen a human before, and was clearly defensive as you talked. You then offered the to-go container, popping it open so the demon could see the food contained.

The little demon inched closer, clearly hungry and tempted by the food you offered. You nodded and the demon took the container and ran. You watched for a second and then came back into the restaurant to join Beel.

You sat down like nothing had happened and went back to your meal. When Beel didn’t start eating you asked,  “What is it? Do I have something on my face!?”

He shook his head no, “You’re incredible.” He picked back up eating but he would not forget this moment.

Asmodeus

You watched on as Asmo was applying his make-up. He always enjoys your company when preparing for the day but he noted you were reading the ingredients pretty seriously.

“What’s got you frowning MC?” 

“This is from the human realm, right?” you held up the bottle so he could see the label in the mirror.

He hummed, “That’s right, I get products from all over so that one is definitely from the human realm. Have you used it before?”

“Um, no I tended to stay away from their brand.” You put the bottle back where you found it.

“Why’s that? It is kind of expensive in Grimm, was it the same in your currency?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” you paused trying to think of the most sensitive way to put it, “there are make-up brands in the human realm that test their products on animals before marketing it to humans.”

“How cute!” Asmo giggled at the thought of bunnies in blush.

“No Asmo, it’s more like they are testing if their products are safe for humans by using animals as a proxy. It can be brutal and even unnecessary and could result in the animal’s death.”

Asmo had stopped and turned to look at you as you explained. His face was slightly troubled.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I just tried to use products that didn’t use that as a part of their process in manufacturing so as to not cause any unnecessary distress.”

He nodded understanding your thought process. The Devildom didn’t have such markers since suffering was the norm.

The fact that you were thinking about what products you used and their impact on others, even just some animals, had him reassessing you.

It was more thoughtful than he originally credited you. When you and him were joking around and gossiping, he figured your interests were more superficial.

It was refreshing that not only could you keep up with the most recent hot news around town but you truly cared and respected your impact on others.

“Asmo?” You asked, he had been quiet for a while lost in thought.

“It’s nothing!” He recovered but he kept peeking back at you with a mysterious smile.

Satan

The two of you were studying in the RAD library.

There was a particularly tough exam coming up, notorious for dropping the GPA of 75% off the class.

Satan was confident in his abilities but he agreed to come study for your sake. He didn’t have access to know your grade like Lucifer did but he assumed you were struggling by your pleas for his help and deprecating jokes about failing.

He watched as you diligently took out your books and notebook. You flipped through a few of your notes and then shifted your focus to your textbook. Satan shrugged as he opened his own books, you seemed to be off to a fine start.

After about an hour you asked, “Can we quiz each other?”

He agreed and flipped to the end of the chapter he was on for the review questions. Satan took a question and asked it in a slightly different way so you couldn’t rely on memorized answers. 

To his surprise you answered correctly and made up a question for him that he thought was actually pretty difficult. 

Of course he got it right but shrugged it off as a fluke that you didn’t mean to ask such a hard question. The next one he asked you was harder, not from the textbook in any way, it was something that the teacher had mentioned offhand in class.

You got it correct again. With your turn next, you asked another complex question.

Satan answered properly but was now on the edge of his seat, surely twice in a row was not a coincidence.

His next question, he matched your difficulty. You thought for a few minutes and dived into explanation with examples and even a source that you quoted off the top of your head. Your answer was insightful and succinct.

You were waiting for Satan’s assessment of your answer but he sat unmoving.

“Was I mistaken?” You asked, and started frantically looking through your notes.

While you reviewed your materials, Satan was seeing you in a new light. He figured you got along so well with Mammon because the two of you could joke and slack off with the best of them. He thought that you and Asmo got along more as a pair of airheads. But here you were, in this moment your intelligence came off as easy and effortless.

“No, you were right.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised but happy.

He smiled back, but wondered, “What is your current grade in this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last I checked, like 96?”

Satan laughed and shook his head, unbelievable that he thought otherwise.

Leviathan

He already thought of himself as a charity case. The fact that you would be willing to sacrifice your time to be with him was a miracle in his eyes.

No matter how many times you told him you wanted to hang out with him, it wasn’t a sacrifice, he still didn’t believe you.

When he gets more comfortable around you, he let’s you see his uglier sides when the envy consumes him.

You were a safe space he could vent to and you took that responsibility seriously. You listened and he felt the things he shared never left his room when you left.

It was after one of those vent/gaming sessions that you had to excuse yourself.

You had never gotten up in the middle like that and it scared Levi, had he gone too far? Did you actually hate him?

He watched silently as you left the room. Once the door closed, he was on his feet, what was so important? He decided to follow you.

Levi followed about a hallway behind you, as you turned a corner he would sprint to the corner to watch where you go next.

He followed all the way to the kitchen? He didn’t want to peek in fear of being caught but he listened as you greeted Beel.

Beel asked what’s up and you answered you were getting snacks for an intense gaming night with Levi. Beel must have perked up with the snacks you grabbed and you shooed him off, “If Levi’s up for it, you can join us but you can’t have that snack, I made it for a special occasion.”

Special… special? Levi couldn’t wrap his head around it when he thought of himself but the silence in the kitchen meant you must be leaving… meaning you were heading right for the door he was cupping!

He turned around and found a hiding spot on the other side of the hall behind a vase.

The door swung open as he held his breath. You started the way you came. You were heading for his room and he wasn’t there!

Cue montage of Levi comically running through the halls of HOL to get to his room before. He jumps into his gaming chair seconds before you open his door quietly.

He was panting and sweaty when he turned towards you with a smile, totally failing to act natural.

“Sorry I got up so abruptly but I just remembered I made you this!” You presented a cupcake exactly replicated from the anime the two of you watched last week.

Levi’s heart melted, he felt bad that he had second guessed you. He reached out for the cupcake with one hand and with the other he took your hand to pull you to the bean bags. He was blushing but still said, “Let’s put on that anime while I eat it.”

The level of detail that you had gotten correct showed how dedicated you had been to paying attention to his interests and how much you cared for him in turn. He was also impressed with your baking knowledge, it takes a decent level of skill to be able to replicate something just from seeing it.

The scene was coming up where the protag was going to give the cupcake and Levi was struck with the most embarrassing thought. But if anyone would indulge him, it was you.

As the protag took the cupcake, Levi copied their posture. Then he copied their words in unison they both said, “Thank you, no one has ever made me anything like this before.” The two of them ripped the cupcake in half in the same spot and he extended the half to you as he protag did, “Will you share it with me?”

“Of course!” You and the character answered together then giggled as Levi blushed and hid behind the half cupcake as the two of you returned to sitting on the beanbags.

There was no way he was ever going to forget this moment, his eyes opened to how much you did care for him. Even if he was doubtful of others by nature, he would never doubt you again.

Mammon

People always write Mammon off as dumb and because you have a pact with him, you’re often included in that assumption. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. You’re here for a good time and Mammon can definitely provide that. 

His schemes to make money keep things interesting so you usually go along unless you have other commitments. Today’s work was clean-up in the local park. Not because it was lucrative, but because this was a punishment from a prank that backfired.

You had pleaded with Diavolo for a lighter sentence on Mammon’s behalf as his pact partner and Diavolo indulged you.

Mammon was brooding on your way to the park but you were looking forward to being outside in nature for the day so you chattered aloud to fill the silence.

Barbatos was waiting for you two with the materials you would need. He gave you a look of pity when you turned but Mammon caught it and knew Barbatos was probably feeling sorry you had to be punished when you didn’t do anything. Mammon ripped the rake out of Barbatos’ hand and sulked off after you.

You each set to different tasks, Mammon raking leaves and you weeding the flowerbeds. 

Demons and spirits passed with a few snickers, definitely not the first time Mammon had been sent to do community service but he hated that you were now a laughing stock with him. You didn’t seem phased by it though, even flashing him a bright smile when you two made eye contact. 

Halfway through the day, the two of you were taking a break for a snack and fluids, you shared a bench and admired the work so far. “We might even finish early!” You shared your optimism.

Mammon nodded but still kept quiet. It was so unlike him and you were hitting your limits of how to try to get him out of his own head, you figured he would be back to normal tomorrow but missed hearing his voice.

You two split the last of the duties, you were now cleaning equipment and decorations while he was trimming bushes and trees.

While Mammon was trimming a nearby bush, he heard your voice, then heard his name. He peeked through the bush to watch you talking with a crow.

“I thought it would make the day more fun if I was here with him because he always makes me have fun but it’s like I’ve made his mood worse…” You looked down at the bird bath you had been polishing and knelt down. The crow watched your movements from it’s perch on the top. “Maybe he hates that I intervened with Diavolo, I probably overstepped. I don’t know what I can do to get Mammon out of this funk. What do you think?”

The crow outstretched it’s wings and took off. You pouted, but continued polishing. Mammon was about to push through the bushes to comfort you, his mood wasn’t your fault and he felt even worse that you thought that but then the crow returned.

It swooped onto your shoulder and dropped something into your hand. You jumped with surprise and it scared the crow off your shoulder, it resettled on the bird bath. “This is perfect! Thank you!” The crow let you give it a few scritches and took off once more. You looked around for Mammon.

He nonchalantly rounded the bush so you would notice him, “Mammon! Look!” You rushed over and handed him the object.

It was a golden grimm coin. You explained, “A crow gave it to me, that has to be good luck! Take it and your luck will change, you won’t be punished forever!”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. What did he do to deserve you? Why did you care about him so deeply that you’d give him your treasure and good luck?

You laughed into his hug and he pulled back, “Alright, let’s finish this up and go home, I’ll treat ya to some ice cream on the way back.” He ruffled your hair but your shining eyes and too big smile made him blush and turn away.

Lucifer

He questioned if putting you under Mammon’s care at first was a mistake.

It’s not that you didn’t get along, in fact you two got along too well. Was Mammon’s stupid tendencies to slack off rubbing off on you?

You had been coming back late without being accompanied by one of his brothers and he was determined to find out what you were up to.

For the morning, he watched as you and Mammon walked to school. Lucifer stayed far enough away so he couldn’t be sensed so he couldn’t hear what you two were saying but it was clear you were having a good time. Mammon was snickering as you animatedly gestured and walked backwards. Lucifer’s heart warmed that his brother was genuinely happy then realized he was getting distracted.

You sat through your first class diligently taking notes and participating. The same for most of the classes that day. Lucifer started to acknowledge your responsibility to learning but it made him all the more curious as to why you skipped your last class. 

He watched you look around for any onlookers and dipped into the library. He was both surprised and amused that you were meeting with Simeon. The angel was leading you astray? 

Simeon didn’t look happy about it either, probably scolding you for missing class, but he was a pushover and your pathetic look won him over. The two of you sat as Simeon talked. You were taking notes on whatever Simeon was lecturing on. 

You left the interaction and Lucifer took the chance to talk with Simeon himself. He learned that you were asking about stories from the Celestial Realm. Simeon offered that it was just human nature to be curious what lays beyond life. Lucifer, the ever-skeptic, didn’t believe that was it.

He had lost your trail by talking to Simeon so he went home to wait for your return.

Lucifer intercepted you as you tried to sneak in. “MC, this way please,” he led you to his office, “How was today?”

“Good?” you answered but was unsure why he looked so serious.

“How was class?” 

You got nervous but answered, “Fine, same old same old.”

“Ah,” Lucifer smirked, “And how was Simeon?”

Your attempt to play dumb failed spectacularly when you stammered, “W-who’s Simeon?”

“Lying to me won’t do you well,” Lucifer reminded.

“Sorry, it’s just it wasn’t an approved activity so I didn’t want anyone in your family to be implicated…” you scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“And what activity is that?”

“Oh I thought you knew since you caught me,” you laughed, “Solomon and I were going to play with young demons at an orphanage in town. We were telling them stories from the Human Realm but I thought it would be nice to incorporate stories from the Celestial Realm too.”

Lucifer sighed.

You took that as a sign he was disappointed so you continued, “Let me explain, I know I should have asked permission first and for that I’m sorry. Solomon and I just stumbled on the place one day and the kids bombarded us with questions, never having seen humans before and before I knew it we were going almost everyday. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be bad because exposing the next generation of demons to humans would help Diavolo’s mission to strengthen relations between the realms. And I asked Simeon for stories so we could share Celestial Realm things too without getting Simeon in trouble or putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

Well that was definitely an eye opener for Lucifer. What you said made sense that changing minds starts with the youth. His original assumptions that you were just shirking responsibilities was way off base. He didn’t want to but admitted to himself he was wrong. Not only had you been doing something charitable but you were furthering Lord Diavolo’s message in a different way.

“You’re correct, you should have asked permission,” he started and you sank in your seat, “but I don’t see any harm in what you’re doing except for missing classes.” You sank further in your seat. “For skipping class, you’ll need to do extra studies,” he paused to make sure you knew this was a punishment, “I think a fitting topic would be interracial communication with a focus on the youth of Devildom.”

You perked up with a smile, “So I can keep going to the orphanage?”

Lucifer fought back a smile himself, trying to continue to be stern, “Yes, but that’s only if you don’t skip class and you have one of my brothers accompany you. As competent as Solomon is, he is also human and I would feel better if you had a demon escort.”

You were absolutely beaming now. “I’d like that but I don’t think you brothers would be interested.”

“They’ll do what they’re told but I think the twins would enjoy it the most,” Lucifer offered.

“Thanks! I would like if you could join us sometime too,” you suggested shyly.

He did smile at that, “If my schedule allows,” He didn’t finish before you were hugging him. He stiffened, not used to being hugged after doling out a punishment but softened and returned your hug, “I’ll make time to join you.”

[smolpyromaniacpirate]

okay, time to talk about it. the new wake the dead book in choices is fucking amazing! and I'm mainly saying that cause I love zombie stories, though so far, they've done a great job with the story, the art, the music and the main mechanics, but the one thing I'm gonna complain about is the LIs...

I've seen a few people complain that the LIs are ugly and in my opinion I think they're pretty cute, though I wish there was a bit of variety appearance-wise. if u were one of those people that thought u could rely on their personality instead then I have news for you. Their personalities ain't it.

take all of this with a grain of salt cause it's only my take on it. now here's why I think their personalities are lacking: tropes. now I'm a HUGE fan of tropes but they used it so horribly that even that didn't save them. let's go one by one.

troy, the handsome comedy relief, guy friend, enthusiastic over the cool but useless things. that's his trope. but that's it. that's literally all he is, I haven't seen a drop of depth on his character (tbf only a few chapters are out). he's there to be funny, cheer people up and not do much else, he's a plot point character with one single trope.

Eli, the quiet loner guy with a secret heart of gold but still makes the tough decisions, overall reliable, experienced but antisocial. that's his trope. the depth of his character is provided by the same trope, though that is probably the only reason why I like him the most. he offers help in tough situations and pipes up when he needs to share something useful. where's the niche though? where's the flaws? where is the tension he can provide with other characters because of his distant behavior? I'm waiting for it.

angel, newly introduced character so I'm going to cut her some slack. eccentric gadget gal, acts on impulse, tinkerer and innovative but sort of crazy, intense. this is only after I met her one chapter ago but that's what I see. again, a trope, a trope that not only is used a lot in these types of books (which is not necessarily a bad thing) but also one that doesn't really open a lot of space for other tropes. I hope to see her do smth else besides being a quirky nuisance. seriously how was no one absolutely pissed off that she led them to their death when she decided to bust the floor under them?? they all forgave her pretty quick.

shannon, yes, I left the worst for last. she's the character I dislike the most, and that makes me sad, because I was more excited for the girls than the boys. her trope is simple: doctor who can't defend herself, sensitive to plight, and a complete doormat. one of the tropes I hate the most. everytime I see it, it's just an excuse to let others have some sort of hero complex when they save her because homegirl can't do nothing by herself. (not to mention that this trope is mostly only used on girl characters). I dislike her character cause that's all she is, there's no hidden talents, no small thing that she might be assertive about, nothing. simply put, she's one-dimensional.

now, I like all the characters but I dislike what I'm seeing so far. I don't hate them, but I do hate how bland they are. I want to see more. I want to see troy get angry and defend his right to be optimistic, I want to see eli logically thinking that tensions need to happen because of tough decisions, I want to see angel holding back when she realizes her impulse might get her and her friends all killed, I want to see shannon assert herself over her care of humankind. I want to see depth. I want to see more than tropes.

tropes are great as foundation but impossible to solely rely on them. I'm excited for this book and so far I'm really enjoying it, I wish they did the characters some justice though. but I guess it's only the first chapters and only time will tell.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

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

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

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

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

Word Count: 21,400+

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

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

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

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you avoiding me?”

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

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

You will not cry right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t joke about that-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Business as usual.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You were still speaking.  

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

“Don’t start-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

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

“Please...”

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

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

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

“I think that’s for the best.”

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

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

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

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

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

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

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

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

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

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

Steve really wasn’t here. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hey, what’s up?’

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

‘Back up. Explain?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You didn’t have to.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

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

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

“And we messed around a little bit.”

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

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

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

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That didn’t make any-”

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

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

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

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“You protect her, alright?”

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

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

“I will.” 

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

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

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

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

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

“Good to see you again!”

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

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

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You played dumb. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “There are worse ways to go.”

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

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

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

“Is everyone on?”

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, where were you?

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

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See this as a means to inform you.”

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

“Do we have a deal?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

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

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

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

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

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

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

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

Yes, that would have been great. 

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

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

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

“Please… don’t shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your men were followed, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prove it.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

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

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

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

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

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

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

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

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

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

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

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

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

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

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

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me.”

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

“We promise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you getting at?”

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

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

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

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

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

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

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

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

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

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

“Multiple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never. 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t?”

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

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

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

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

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

“Tired of me?”

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

“Steve…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I only want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

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

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

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna let me?”

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

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

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

“Safe word?”

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

“Safe. Word.”

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve short-circuited. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought the same about him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

[cafeacademia]

Guardian | Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: After months of no contact with your soulmate, you begin to finally act on your suspicions, only to learn a difficult truth about your close friend, Draco.

Warnings: Sadness, some fluff, mention of abusive environments (Draco being involved with his father, Voldy and death eaters).

Word count: Approx 3200

Masterlist

NOTE: This story is following a slightly altered AU, in which Fred and George are still at school and Harry does not go for Draco after Katie Bell’s possession.

A/N: Hi loves! Here’s the next chapter! I did struggle a little with this one, but I’m really happy with it. I hope you enjoy this part and I promise there is some fluff coming for these two soon, enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

Previous Part | Next Part

Was it ever enough? The spilled ink, the black stained fingertips having spent hours writing with a quill. The way the pages crinkled under the heavy use, words that did not spell out a work of fiction, but that of the tale of two souls meant to be.

Was it enough to bring back what was lost by writing to him often? You couldn't know, but all you could do was try.

It was well beyond the start of your first term in your sixth year and as the leaves fell and the seasons changed, the forest surrounding the grounds with deep red and orange hues, you wondered where he could have gone, what had happened to him?

But as you wandered through the grounds, the clouds drew in, bringing a sudden downpour with them. Being quite far from the castle, the closest spot for shelter in the heavy rain was the owlery and quickly, you tugged your jacket over your head and sprinted across the wet grass towards the stone tower.

Taking care not to slip on the steps on your way up, you heaved out a sigh when you finally got yourself through the doorway. It wasn’t much warmer in the enclosed space, but it was at least dry.

It was a particularly odd Sunday, the weather had been changing all day, though you knew as winter drew in that this time of year was often very rainy and ever changing, just like autumn itself.

 Backing further into the owlery, you shivered, trying to warm yourself up a little bit, but as the strong winds blew across the grounds and swept through the openings between the stones in the owlery walls, you chilled even more.

 Suddenly, without even a whisper, having seemingly appeared out of no where, You felt something being draped around your shoulders and you jumped, looking over your shoulder to see yourself face to face with a Slytherin. “Draco?” It came out as a gasp. All he could do was meet your gaze with the cold blue hues of his eyes, barely managing a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes, one that appeared forced and perhaps even painful. His eyes were deep with the weight of his emotions, things he wish he could tell someone, but he had to keep them locked away as far down in himself as he could.

The ashen haired boy had barely even looked at you since the end of the last school year and a few weeks after your return to Hogwarts, it was increasingly obvious that he didn’t want to be around you.

“Harry is under the impression Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater.” Hermione had said it as if even she herself could not believe it to be true and you weren’t sure if you were lucky, or terribly placed at the wrong place at the wrong time to hear something that, despite your better judgement, caused your heart to ache.

What had he been pulled into? You couldn’t know for certain, but even now as you looked up at him and met his soft gaze, you knew that whatever he was taking part in was not through choice.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, pulling the jacket he had draped over your shoulders around you a little more, only receiving a small nod from him. “Draco.” You reached out for him, your hand catching his wrist before he had a chance to turn away from you. And for a moment, Draco allowed himself to be touched, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of your gentle touch, but as he met your eyes, he slowly slipped his wrist out of your grasp and took a step back. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He said, attempting a smile before ducking out of the doorway and disappearing down the steps into the heavy downpour.

Your heart ached at the way he had pulled away, at the deep regret he had held in his eyes as he had turned away from you. Pulling his coat around you even more, you were thankful at least, that returning his coat to him would allow you a moment to speak to him soon and you hoped you could get a moment alone with your friend soon.

Having made your way back to the castle after a ten minute wait for the downpour of cease, you headed back up to your dormitory to dry off and warm up. And as you perched on your bed with a blanket wrapped around yourself, you sighed, leaning down to gently take the small leather bound book out of the top of your school bag. Flicking through the pages, you turned to the last one that had been written on, only your handwriting occupying the crinkled, slightly yellowed paper and you sighed, your eyes landing on the words you had last written to him, drawing in a breath to speak them out loud. “Where are you?”

Draco hated it. He hated that every time he closed his eyes, all he saw, all he heard were things that haunted him. It was as if his mind could not truly allow him to rest, not without being reminded what dreadful things were happening and what were to come. But it was the worst when what he saw when he closed his eyes was the way his father had snatched the book from him, his voice full of opportunity.

***

“Do you know who this soulmate of yours is, Draco?” Lucius had asked. “No, father.” Draco lied, keeping his features neutral, his eyes passing over the book that was clutched in his father’s strong grip. Lucius cast a lingering stare at his son, judgement in his eyes as he considered his answer.

Draco knew he could not give away that he did, in fact know who his soulmate was, because surely someone might want to use you against him and he certainly did not put it past those around him to do so. Even if his father were to not use that information, he was sure someone else might, especially as motivation to carry out tasks. He knew already that anyone knowing about his soulmate even existing was bad enough, because even without knowing who you were, people could still use it as leverage. “Now, now, don’t look so miserable. You may have this back once you’ve tended to your duties.” Lucius had told him.

***

Draco looking down, pulling up his shirt sleeve to look at the image of the dark mark imprinted in his skin. Following the curve of the snake as it trailed over the veins in his wrist, Draco felt sick to his stomach. His eyes glanced up to land on the book. It was scratched up, dented and damaged, the golden gilding worn and scuffed off some of the edges, one of the metal corner protectors had gone missing and a few of the gold painted page edges were folded and ripped. It made his heart ache. It made Draco feel a uncontrollable, seething anger, a want to cry and scream and protect what was his with everything he had. But he could not.

They had all ridiculed him, used the book as a way to force him closer to the same lifestyle that they followed and Draco hated it. He resented everything they had used his book to make him do. Because it wasn’t just a book they were using, they had used you. And even though the book was now back in his possession after being confiscated more than once, thrown about and damaged on purpose to taunt him, despite the fact that he now held it as close to him as possible, he refused to use it.

What if someone were take his memories and view them? What if someone found out what he talked about? Or more importantly who he talked to. But with each passing day, his eyes landing on the old, tattered book, simultaneously a symbol of both hope and pain, Draco longer to open the cover and read the contents.

His aunt Bellatrix had tried to force him to read it out, but as if the book had known what was happening to both him and itself, it appeared blank no matter what they did, no matter how they tried to strip it of it’s concealment charms. Draco just could not bring himself to read your words, to see what you might have written in his absence, to see what his silence might have done.

“Soulmates? You can’t be serious, that’s all a bunch of old fairy tales.” Ron brushed it off. “Don’t be ridiculous Ronald.” Hermione sighed, about to curb his argument. “It’s not!” Neville suddenly burst into the argument, having seen you looking rather out of depth from the reaction you’d gotten from Ron. “My parents are soulmates too.” Neville said in a softer tone that time, giving you a kind smile as he looked across at you.

“With a book too?” You asked, now intrigued while Ron gave you both a look of confusion, having genuinely thought you had been pulling his leg when Fred and George had pestered it out of you. “No, they can hear each other’s thoughts.” Neville explained. “Do you know who yours is?” Harry asked, leaning over in his seat to join the conversation. “I can’t be sure, but I have a couple of theories.” You replied, leaning forwards and resting your chin on your hand. “Well, who is it then?” Fred asked with a big grin on his face at the idea of some brilliant gossip. “None of you would believe me even if I told you.”

“I would.” Luna smiled sweetly at you as she approached the bench, Neville almost immediately shuffling up and accidentally bumping George a little to give her some space to sit between you and him. “I believe in soulmates too, they are fascinating, don’t you think?” She asked. ”I just wish mine would talk to me again, he’s been quiet for months.” You sighed as Ron, Hermione and Ginny began to discuss something else with the twins. “You really don’t know who it is?” Luna asked. “My grandmother told me that soulmates are often much closer than you expect them to be, maybe there’s someone hiding in plain sight, waiting for you to realise that it’s them.” She told you, giving you a sweet little smile before she turned away to talk to Neville.

Perhaps Luna was right and perhaps, despite feeling a bit silly for thinking it might be someone you already knew, she was right and if your soulmate, whoever he really was, was very much absent and maybe it was time to really find out for sure.

Ron had suggested the use of Felix Felicis, but it felt wrong to use a potion in an attempt to cheat your way  into knowing who your soulmate was, but as the weeks passed and you left the falling leaves behind, along with the events that took place and had shaken everyone who had seen Katie Bell tragically possessed, you began to wonder if the idea wasn’t so bad after all. The year seemed more bleak as time passed and even as you passed into spring, it felt as if the tension in the castle was ready to snap at any moment.

Despite the tempting idea of brewing liquid luck and using it to find him, another part of you was reluctant, not because you felt it was wrong or like it was cheating at something you obviously should see through to the end, but because you had a feeling you already knew who it was.

But just as you feared his sudden coldness being the only worry and the fact that you had not found a single moment in which Draco would take his coat back from you from months ago, you feared the reasons he might not be speaking to you at all. Why was he so cold to you? The chill hurt. Walking into the great hall, the chatter between the trio as you passed them seemed to only be of one thing and it shook you as deeply as it had everyone else who had witnessed it. The horrifying way she had moved in such an unnatural way, how she had contorted and her face had been taken over by something terrible. Katie Bell’s possession.

“It was Malfoy, I’m sure of it.” Harry was adamant and the conviction in his voice was enough to chill everyone in earshot. And when you had swept passed the trio, looking for a seat elsewhere, you turned to see Draco standing in the middle of the hall, his face riddled with regret, shame and something that swam deep in his eyes as he looked at you. He held your gaze for a moment, your movements still as you stood in front of a bench, your eyes not leaving his. It was as if he was silently pleading you, as if he was asking you to help him, reaching out for something, for someone.

But just as you slowly moved a step in his direction, he turned and fled, Harry leaping up from his seat, but being yanked back by Hermione as you rushed after the Slytherin.

You tried to keep up with his quick pace, Draco weaving around corners and slipping through half open doors so quickly that if you hadn’t been paying enough attention, you might have lost him.

Finally, you rounded the doorway into the bathroom, seeing Draco hunched over a sink, his hair messed up and out of place, sobs shaking his body as he tried to wash the pain away with water.

“Draco,” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to startle him and he turned to look at you with fear in his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Your heart broke, your throat clenching tight at the sight of him in such a state. “I had to do it.” He sobbed, backing against the wall and sliding down onto the cold stone below. “He made me do it.”

Slowly, you crossed the bathroom, carefully kneeling down in front of him and reaching out, tentatively at first to brush his hair from his face. “I tried so hard to protect-.” He stopped himself, a sob interrupting mid sentence and Draco heaved for breath as he reached for you. And just as he had done for you, when he had held you so many times when you felt nothing but pain and hurt and everything in between, you held him in your arms too. The beating of your heart soothed him as he cried against your shoulder, his hands holding you with a weak grip and slowly, his sobs softened as you held him tightly, softly stroking his hair.

“He made me do it.” Draco repeated, parting from you for a moment, pulling his sleeve up to show you, but he would not meet your eyes. The dark mark was like binding seal on his wrist, one that bound him to a life he did not want and you knew that the Draco his father was trying to make him be, was not the Draco you knew.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, pulling him back against you and hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Draco.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes, seeing someone you cared so deeply for, someone who you had secretly bonded with for years was being torn apart and put back together as someone he was not meant to be and you hated to see it happen.

“I can’t be around you, I can’t look at you, he’ll know.” Draco whispered, hugging you tightly around the middle. “You don’t deserve this pain, you deserve something more, something better.” You told him. Draco didn’t feel like he did, he didn’t feel like he deserved anything better and he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved you either.

“I’m sorry.” Draco cried, pulling away and wiping harshly at his tears. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.” He said, moving to get up, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could go. “Then talk to me by paper and quill. Like we used to.” You told him, and while your words could have implied your little notes during class or the letters during the summer, both of you knew what that had really meant. “Okay.” He nodded, trying to move away again, but you stopped him once more.

“Hold on, take this.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffling as you reached into your robe pocket to pull out the beautiful green handkerchief he had given you three years prior. “You still have it.” He whispered. “Of course.” You nodded, reaching up to wipe your tears away. “I can’t take it, love. You keep it.” Draco said, gently using his fingers to close your own around the handkerchief and pushing it back against your chest.

“I still have your coat.” You added as you felt his touch linger on your hand. “You’ll keep it safe for me, won’t you?” He asked. “Of course.” You nodded. “Why, are you going somewhere?” You asked. Draco paused, almost daring himself to look up at you, to meet your eyes one last time, but he resisted and sighed. “It might be a while before you see me again.” He told you, gently trailing his fingertips over the back of your hand. “But… I will see you again, won’t I?” You asked. “I promise, we will.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” Draco whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left you alone in the bathroom, walking away to prepare to carry out his biggest and most dreaded task. And he wondered as he descended into the dungeons, how you could ever love him after he had performed the things he must do.

But Draco had been right, because only months later, with no communication with each other aside from the odd glance here and there, he disappeared completely.

Promise me, you will not come looking for me. It was scrawled quickly onto a page and for the first time in nearly a year, you saw his writing join yours again on the paper of your book. You sighed as you read those words, sitting in your dormitory amidst the horrible realisation of what had taken place, that death eaters had killed Albus Dumbledore.

Leaping up from your bed, you grabbed a quill from your bag and opened the inkwell at your desk before writing your reply. I promise, but you must promise to find me when it’s safe. You wrote back.

Minutes passed and not a single drop of ink came through. Minutes turned into hours and while you thought he might not write back at all, you cast a quick glance at the page before you finally decided to try and sleep to see his words amongst yours again.

I promise.

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[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Paramount War (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

ace’s execution is, in a way, the exception that proves the rule when it comes to one piece’s themes of blood and family. ace is set up to die for the crimes of a father he never knew and never wanted, and he does die here, but in the end he dies for the family he did choose, in the form of luffy, rather than the one he didn’t. 

god do i wish we knew more about ms portgas d. rouge. with ace’s storyline pretty much wrapped it looks unlikely that we’re going to be learning more about her than what we got, which in my opinion is an absolute tragedy, because what little we do know about her is amazing and she’s an absolute badass. oda give us more female ds please.

whitebeard’s power is so cool. it might be one of the visually coolest devil fruits we’ve ever seen, in my opinion. he he causes earthquakes and tsunamis while far past his prime; he pulls the sky apart with his bare hands. this whole arc is world-shaking, and whitebeard’s power is perfectly appropriate for it. 

doflamingo’s speech on justice and rightness is one of the most well-remembered quotes from this whole saga, and rightly so. i’ve always found it fascinating, myself, because he’s right. he dead-on hits how the one piece world works- the world government and the marines rule the world not because of any inherent actual goodness or justice or right, but because they won a war a very long time ago. 

in a way, this reminds me of blackbeard’s line of “people’s dreams never die” from jaya. i like how oda isn’t afraid of letting his villains be right about the themes of the story, sometimes even having better awareness of them than the protagonists. 

man, if i had to pick a single favorite spread out of the whole manga, it might be luffy’s marineford entrance. it’s so epic, and so completely unexpected for everyone else there. absolutely nobody was expecting strawhat luffy to drop out of the sky with a posse including two former warlords. it just makes me grin!! so much!! 

it also gets followed up by a solid two pages of just people’s reactions, from smoker’s “what the HELL is he doing with CROCODILE” to moria’s immediate incoherent rage, and i just love that the world and cast of one piece is so well-established and built up that we know exactly how all of those people know luffy and why they react the way they do. 

going back to what i mentioned in the last post about marineford being luffy’s conflict of interest arc, i’d say it’s also the only time where he isn’t the future king first and foremost. in this arc, before anything else, he’s a little brother.

there are a lot of what-if moments in marineford. moments where you kind of have to ask “what if this specific thing hadn’t happened, had gone differently?” would things have turned out differently? squard’s betrayal is one of them. does this change the outcome? would whitebeard have been able to survive if not for this injury? there’s no way to know. marineford is a lot of little tragedies, and they just pile up and up.

marineford has just so many incredibly striking spreads. all of the momentous moments (and there’s a lot of them, in this arc) are done full justice. this is such an image heavy post just because marineford is such an incredibly visually strong arc. 

conqueror’s haki is so cool and i love the way it’s set up and built up throughout this saga, with luffy’s constant inadvertent uses of it, from duval’s bull to marigold and sandersonia to the wolves in impel down, all leading up to this moment. 

i’ve heard people complain about conqueror’s as kind of a deus ex machina, but i honestly love it, it’s very cool and honestly i think it just seems to fit luffy as a power. if there was ever gonna be a character who turned willpower into a weapon, it would be monkey d. luffy. 

i’m gonna take this chance to talk about garp, because this sequence of panels is heavily implied to be garp’s thoughts just before luffy punches him down, and it hurts. garp is a flawed person who makes some bad choices, and there’s no arguing that, but i think it’s very obvious he really, really cares about his grandsons, even if he never could understand them as people and that they never would have been happy as marines. and that’s just tragic, really. 

the moment ace gets freed and the brief span of time where he and luffy can fight together feel so triumphant, and i think it’s one of the reasons the final tragedy of marineford hits so hard and feels so cruel, because luffy succeeds, here. he saves ace. he gives absolutely everything he had and makes it, and saves ace. the ultimate failure isn’t his. there was nothing more he could have done. 

the first time i was reading one piece, i hit this page (which is also the last in the volume) and had to put the book away, take the bus downtown, wander around for a few hours, and buy myself some candy and some new books before i started feeling okay again.

the thing about ace’s death, i think, is that it’s a tragedy, but it also feels so completely essential to the story going forwards and luffy’s character growth specifically that it’s really, really hard to imagine one piece without it. there are a lot of (really excellent!) fix-fics out there for marineford, and although those are often really good and their authors super talented, i think it’s really hard for them to ever hit the same way canon does with regards to this. 

i always think of this scene specifically in contrast to zoro and mihawk’s fight, back on baratie. zoro and mihawk are both people who believe in honor in battle, true victory or death, and that’s reflected in their fight, in zoro’s refusal to turn and run even in the face of imminent death, and mihawk’s respect for that resolve. whitebeard, too, is an honorable man. he refuses to turn to run, even when facing certain death. 

the blackbeard pirates, however, are not. 

i do enjoy how, just like roger’s, ace’s execution backfires tremendously on the marines. this was entirely a predictable outcome, too! this exact thing happened twenty years ago! the marines don’t learn. they don’t change. they’re so assured of their own rightness and power that they make stupid mistakes like holding a massive public execution after the last one blew up in their faces. 

(this is why they need coby so badly, for the record, and why it’s important that he still decides to become a marine after witnessing their corruption firsthand in shells town. the marines are long overdue for a reformation, one that orients them towards real justice.)

i really, really enjoy crocodile in this saga. mostly because he hasn’t been redeemed at all, he’s still pretty much the exact same kinda awful person he was in alabasta, he’s just on luffy’s side this time, and it lets us see him in a better light, when he gets angry at whitebeard for nearly dying or when he helps luffy and jinbe escape to keep the marines from getting their way. few of one piece’s characters are truly so one-dimensional as they can seem, and i really appreciate that. 

i really really love all the interactions between luffy, ace and sabo as kids. they’re so fun and bounce off of each other so well. even though we only see them together for a brief time, they really feel like siblings. (which of course only makes later events hurt so much more.

i’ve always been a little fascinated by the fact that it takes us this long to get luffy’s full backstory. it’s almost a fakeout, because we get part of his backstory in the very first chapter, and we’re kind of led to believe that’s all there is. it’s not until ace’s introduction nearly two hundred chapters in that we’re given any indication there’s more.

but at the same time, it makes sense. marineford is luffy’s focus arc, as arlong park to nami or thriller bark to brook. he hasn’t had a focal arc that’s really about him before this, while all his other crewmates have. it makes sense that this would be when he finally gets his flashback. 

i think it’s cool that dragon and the revolutionaries show up at the grey terminal fire, because it’s one of the only looks we’ve gotten so far into what their actual regular operations are like. and, of course, they’re saving people. i really like this about the revolutionaries, that helping people in trouble is basically their modus operandi, when pretty much everyone else in one piece’s world mostly does saving on an incidental basis if at all. 

i think a lot about how the last line of sabo’s letter to ace is also both of their last words to the strawhats. 

death in one piece always feels much realer and more impactful to me than in most other series, and i think this is part of the reason why: in one piece, we are always shown the mourning. nami at bellemere’s grave, carrot grieving pedro, ace and whitebeard’s funeral. 

there are fewer deaths, comparatively, than most other series, but they’re given so much room to echo. we’re still feeling the impacts of ace’s life and death in the most recent chapters of wano. it ties into the theme of inherited will and all the way back to hiriluk’s final speech, of men not being dead so long as they’re remembered. 

the picture of luffy at marineford always kind of strikes me. he looks so young and so solemn, and yet much more himself than he did when we last saw him losing his mind on amazon lily. i really like it. 

sometimes i just think about the sheer depth of trust and love the strawhats must have in each other to separate for two years, far longer than they were ever together, to solely dedicate themselves to improving for the sake of crew and captain. none of them even hesitate, and none of them ever doubt that the crew will be reformed at the end of it.

after all, luffy keeps his promises. 

[mymoodwriting]

Out Of Love

Omega!Reader x Alpha!Key

Genre: A/B/O

Warning: Anxiety, Blood, Fangs

Words: 2.8K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Epilogue

Prompt: Everyone knew the rules, at eighteen, omegas would be taken from their families. It was a kinda harsh reality for them, and the years leading up were just as bad, or so you’ve heard. All you could ever do was watch and maybe lend a hand to your schools only omega, but you could never imagine or understand their pain. You even felt guilty sometimes for how great of a life you had in comparison. Loving parents, awesome friends, it was the best, but nothings perfect and past mistakes will always catch up to you, even if you don’t know about them.

“Are you having fun?”

    As much as you hoped, you didn’t hold on to the idea of working with Minseok. So when Key came by to deliver the good news you were overjoyed. You couldn’t actually believe that you’d get to work in the infirmary, and you thanked Key a lot, as well as Minseok. You were still pretty nervous about being there but Minseok didn’t hold back or treat you differently, you were there to help and he made sure you did.

     Now that you could work in the infirmary you preferred to be there as much as Minseok would allow, but you’d always join Key for lunch and to relax. You did need to take breaks every now and then too. It had been a few weeks since you started working in the infirmary, and Key was more than happy to listen to you talk about everything you did.

“Of course. I mean it’s serious work, but it’s awesome. Minseok says I’ve been a big help.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. Since I’m an omega too it puts others at ease without Minseok having to use his pheromones and what not. He’s already so nice, so it makes everything easier.”

“You’re right at home, aren’t you?”

“A bit, I’m still out of my depth with this.”

“What do you mean?”

“During my studies it was mostly about betas and alphas, not really anything on omegas.”

“Yeah, all information on omegas was confiscated when the OCPD was first formed. A lot was burned and destroyed just cause there didn’t need to be that many copies of that stuff.”

“I’m assuming wherever Minseok studied has all that kinda information.”

“You know he has a bunch of medical books in his office. If you ask, he might let you borrow some, since you’re helping him now.”

“Oh, I never thought about that. I don’t think I’ve been in his office either.”

“Since you’re such a big help I’m sure he’d be happy to share the books.”

“It’s exciting, feels like those books are forbidden knowledge.”

“To some degree they are, but keep something in mind.”

“What?”

“Those books are about you, and you might come across information that’s been banned for a reason.”

“Ah… I know… I read up on betas when I thought I was one so… I kinda know what you mean.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I’ll be careful, promise. I don’t want to lose my job with Minseok.”

“He won’t let go of you that easily, and neither will I.”

     You were a bit nervous to ask Minseok about the books, so instead you asked about his office. He took you there and your eyes immediately locked onto the bookshelf.

“Wow… you have a lot of books in here…”

“Yeah. In case I ever need to refresh my knowledge.”

“Can I… can I read them?”

“I don’t really know much about omegas… myself and my biology… so I was wondering if I could read about it…”

“Ah, that hadn’t crossed my mind.”

     Minseok went over to the bookshelf, pulling out a book and handing it to you.

“This is basically omega biology 101, so you can start here. Although this book can’t leave my office, so if you want to read it you’ll do so here. Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes of course.” You were amazed to have this book in your hand. “Can I start now?”

“Sure. You can ask me if there’s something you don’t understand.”

“Awesome, thank you.”

“Just take it easy. That’s a lot of information so go slow with it.”

“I will.”

     You still helped Minseok around, but you really enjoyed reading as well. He did his best to give you the time, only interrupting if he really needed some assistance or one of the patients was asking about you. There wasn’t so much difference in the basic anatomy of an omega, but you were intrigued when you found information about your claws and fangs. It had been mentioned to you before that you’d get those and the idea itself was exciting.

     A few months after coming of age was when they’d develop, but you were well past that now. You asked Minseok about it and he said it wasn’t entirely uncommon that yours hadn’t come in yet. You had been taking suppressants from a young age so that had somewhat messed with your body. You weren’t the only one who had the issue so he told you not to worry and that they would come in soon. Still, you weren’t entirely patient so you started checking and trying to draw at your claws.

“You really shouldn’t try to force it, you know.”

“But I know they’re in there.”

     You were outside enjoying a little lunch picnic, more focused on your hands than the food Key had prepared. He knew you had been excited about your claws and fangs coming in so he knew exactly what you were up to.

“Still, be patient.”

“Easy for you to say, you already have them. Can I see?”

“Sure.” Key drew his out and you grabbed his hand. “It’s so cool, they’re just hidden under your skin right behind your normal fingernails.”

“So if you peel back the skin on my fingers you’d find them hiding?”

“Yup. It’s actually pretty crazy we still have them given we don’t use them much, especially an omega like myself.”

“They still come in handy today. We agents are trained for combat while using our claws.”

“Combat? Why do you get that training?”

“Cause sometimes omegas get really fighty, or we end up dealing with some pretty bad people. We do tend to hunt down those supplying suppressants and hiding away omegas.”

“Right, I guess you’re more than a friendly agent.”

“That’s all I plan to be for you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you become an agent?”

“Ah, that question.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not something you want to talk about, I was just curious.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Many omegas tend to ask that, you’re right to be curious.”

“So, what’s your story?”

“My mom is an omega, and my father an agent. She was always so happy, and she showed me lots of love too. When I got older I found out that my mom didn’t grow up in such a loving environment, not at all like the way she raised me. So I wanted to make sure I could return the kindness and love she’s shown me to those who haven’t had it. Being an agent seemed ideal, as I get to meet plenty of omegas and brighten up their lives.”

“That’s poetic.”

“Isn’t it? If I can say, I quite enjoy my job.”

“So I guess, all agents have a story.”

“Yup, some aren’t as sweet as mine.”

“They’re not?”

“Everyone has different reasons for being here, but at least they all lead to the same thing, taking care of omegas.”

“I suppose that’s the most important thing.”

“Exactly.”

     Key gave you a smile and then flinched, yanking his arm away. You looked around for the cause, but didn’t see anything sharp.

“Would you look at that.”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

“Huh?”

     You glanced down at your hand, seeing your claws poking out for the first time. You screamed in joy, although you quickly stopped when you realized how weird your hand felt.

“See, you just had to be patient.”

“Wow, this is so cool.”

“Cool, but you still need to learn to control it.”

“Ah… you’re right…”

“I’ll help you so don’t worry.”

“Thanks… wait are you okay? Did I hurt you!”

Key chuckled. “It was just a little pinch, no blood, so I’m okay.”

“Gosh, I do need to be more careful.”

“Especially with Minseok’s books, replacing those won’t be easy.”

“You’re right, I have to be more careful about everything.”

“Once you get the hang of it you won’t have to worry. It’s not that hard.”

“But these are dangerous, I could really hurt someone.”

“All of us agents are trained to manage pain, so don’t worry about hurting us.”

“And the other omegas?”

“True. Then how about you take a little break from the infirmary until you can get this under control?”

“I… that’s probably for the best.”

“Good. I’ll take a little break from assignments too.”

“Ya! Are you using me to get time off?”

“That’s just a bonus to spending time with you.”

     You did as Key asked, taking some time away from the infirmary as you figured out your claws. He always reminded you that the important thing was to stay calm, this was a normal part of your body, and if you got scared you’d certainly lose control. It took a while for them to come out fully and from there it was just practice, and a lot of frustration.

“You need to relax or else they’ll just stay out.”

“This should be easy! Like making a fist.”

“But it isn’t, is it?”

“Why! This doesn’t make sense!”

“Of course it does. Maybe you should read a proper biology book about wolves. Look at you, you’re frustrated and defenseless. Your claws are a defense mechanism. If you’re on edge why wouldn’t they stay out to make sure you can protect yourself?”

“Ah… I didn’t think about that…”

“No one really does. Like you said before, we don’t use them like we did way back when.”

“Still… we have them.”

“I think they’re cool, and I’m glad for them.”

“I’m still worried.”

“About what?”

“Hurting someone…”

“Well, think about your surroundings. It’s all alphas.”

“And omegas.”

“But we alphas protect omegas. If you freak out, every alpha will prioritize the omegas, so, someone will grab you and someone will make sure the other omegas are alright.”

“And what if I hurt an omega?”

“That’s highly unlikely. From all my time here, nothing like that has happened, nor have I ever heard of it happening. A place like this is pretty quiet from drama. You’ll most likely hurt an alpha.”

“I don’t wanna do that.”

“Of course not, but accidents happen. Don’t forget we have a healing factor, and you do too.”

“I keep forgetting that… it’s like… when I found out I was an omega I just threw away everything I thought I knew about myself.”

“I don’t blame you, it was a big shock, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s never fun to just drop life changing news on someone like that, you were still a kid.”

“I can’t believe that was almost a year ago… feels more like yesterday.”

“Time can move pretty fast.”

“Will I get used to it… all of this…”

“You will, in time. I promise.”

     You took a week off to get control of your claws. Once you were confident with that, Minseok was happy to have you around again, and also congratulate you on your milestone.

“A lot of omegas think they don’t have claws and tend to get pretty surprised when they come in.”

“Don’t you tell them?”

“I do, but it slips their minds sometimes.”

“Makes sense, it’s not something we think we’d have.”

“How come?”

“Well… omegas… kinda the bottom of the food chain so we wouldn’t think about having something like that.”

“You’re not the bottom of the food chain. You just need special care and attention.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Hardly.”

♥♥♥♥♥

     Dealing with your fangs was much easier, since there was no urge to bite people or any real logical way to hurt someone with your teeth. Once you had those sharp canines in you started to wonder about something, and luck for you, the next chapter in the book you were reading dived into it, mating bites. Although the first bit of information certainly stung.

Omegas do not claim a partner with a mating bite.

     You remembered your parents talking about their mating mark once before, when you had seen it on your moms hip, worried she had gotten hurt at work. That was the first time you had learned about them, and got excited about having one yourself someday, and giving it to the person you loved. Since no one knew much about omegas, it’s probably easier to think they’d have a mating bite too, but they don’t.

“Ah… I guess my teeth aren’t all that special.”

     It was a bit funny, how one piece of information could bring down your mood. Key wasn’t oblivious to it either, bringing it up on your lunch date.

“Are you okay?”

“Eh… my head hurts from all the reading.”

“I see. What did you read? I told you to be careful.”

“It’s… nothing…”

“You reek of sadness, come on, talk to me.”

“The mating bite… omegas don’t have one.”

“Ah, you got to that.”

“So you know?”

“Of course. It ties into our history lessons.”

“History? What do mating bites have to do with history?”

“Well, in reality it’s not known why omegas don’t have a mating bite, but some think it has to do with the way things were back then.”

“Back then?”

“Yeah. Omegas used to be cared for by their packs, their bodies would be covered in mating marks from every pack member. If you didn’t have a mark on an omega, touching them was pretty much a crime.”

“Really?”

“Yup, they really took care of omegas back then too. Of course as things changed and the world evolved, omegas weren’t looked after as much, but they still needed to be. As you know, things got bad until we remembered omegas needed to be protected, and so we have the OCPD.”

“So we didn’t learn…”

“We forgot.”

“But why don’t… how does that explain the mating bite?”

“The theory is, since omegas were taken care of and claimed by a whole pack, they didn’t need to claim one individual. Of course the mating bites of alphas and betas with their partner was sacred, but bites claiming an omega were sacred in a different way.”

“But what if there was trouble in the pack? Don’t mating bites form a connection between the two.”

“And that’s why omegas were such essential pack members. They’d know about conflict within a pack and tended to help resolve it.”

“Oh, so we weren’t useless.”

“You’re not useless.”

“Says the agent who works for a whole department that revolves around making an omegas’ life easy. In today’s world, we are useless. Can’t get a job or function well without suppressants.”

“That’s because the world didn’t evolve to accommodate omegas. That’s the real issue.”

“Instead of doing that, figuring out how omegas can live in society, y’all just decided to pull us out of it.”

“That… there’s a specific reason why that was the choice that was ultimately made.”

“Is there? What is it?”

“Something to talk about when you get to the subject. It’s a complex conversation we’re going to have to have, one you might also wanna discuss with Minseok.”

“Huh?”

“I won’t go into detail now, it’s not the time, and Minseok won’t mention it until you ask. So, let’s move on. You’ll know what I mean when you get to it, trust me.”

“Ah… I see… can I ask something though?”

“Hm?”

“Are there any history books I can read? I didn’t know omegas… were so important to a pack back then… you know history books in society are pretty vague on omega details.”

“Let me think… those books aren’t in the library here… besides the training academy, I think the only place for them might be in the private schools.”

“What! Are you saying I had access to them but didn’t know it!”

“The private schools the OCPD run don’t teach history any differently than normal schools. Besides, those books are only for alphas in their senior year.”

“So I can’t read them…”

“Sorry. You might think history sucks, but it tends to be worse when nothing is omitted.”

“You’re probably right about that. So, can you tell me then?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, just history stuff. I wanna know more about back then and how omegas worked in a pack and… just curious about omegas and what the world was like back then.”

“Hm, that I can do.”

♥♥♥♥♥

“Minseok, it’s been a year.”

“And?”

“I’m worried.”

     Minseok chuckled. He wasn’t entirely sure why Key wanted to talk, but he should have known it’d be about you.

“How come?”

“It’s been a year and she hasn’t gone into heat yet.”

“That’s not at all uncommon for someone like her. She was on suppressants for all her developmental years, and now she’s being medicated to maintain balance. Her body has always been stunted in its development, it’ll take time for her.”

“Then why not take her off her meds.”

“Ya! You know that’s not good for her health.”

“Still, I’m worried.”

“Patience. She’ll get there, besides, you should make sure you’re the one she’ll want when the time comes.”

“How often does she come in here to read? She told me you only let her read in your office.”

“She’s a quick learner. She’s in here whenever she can be, why?”

“Just wondering when she’ll get to things about… you know…”

“A situation for later.”

“I know.”

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then. She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet.

Blank period, canon-compliant, Sakura-centric, some expanded plot points from Like Gold, fluff and pining, eventually becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 1/?: An Introduction to Electrocardiography

Sakura gazes out the window of her office, a pile of paperwork set aside for a poetic sort of procrastination, trying to indulge for once in a Konoha spring, though she's finding it arduous.

As pretty as it is this time of year, all she can manage to feel is wistful.

Hanami has come and gone already for the most part, though there are a few stubborn cherry blossom trees lingering at the tail end of their blooming. She can see one here from her window, up on the hillside that slopes towards Hokage Rock, clinging to the uneven land. She’s sure its roots have to be all twisted, a labyrinth of gnarled wood clinging to any scrap of land it can wind itself around as its branches and petals try against all odds to reach upwards into the open sky that she can’t take her eyes off of.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s one she doesn’t care to unpack.

This year was her twentieth viewing of her namesake, though Sakura obviously doesn't remember the first few. Her parents take great pride in the retelling of tales from those first few years of her life, the ones she was too little to remember. The highlights come up annually on her birthday without fail, how she grasped at the petals like they were something precious, clutched in her sticky little hands the entire day.

A framed photograph is perched on one of the built-in shelves of her parents' living room, of her and her father on her first birthday. He was holding her up on unsteady legs, ridiculously proud and pointing towards the camera where her mother had been trying to get her to look. Her short pink hair was flying absolutely everywhere, matching the fluttering petals and in-bloom cherry blossom tree in the background, chubby hands grasping upwards. Strawberry cake and frosting were smeared all over her cheeks. They’d had a picnic for her, at the park nearest to their house.

“We came home and cleaned you up, and then your father helped you water your tree for the first time, in the little pink watering pail you unwrapped earlier. You were so cute.” That’s what her mom says every year. Sakura has the sentence memorized at this point, could recite it on cue, if she needed to.

Her parents had planted a cherry blossom sapling in their backyard a few days after they brought her home from the hospital as a newborn, so the tree is around the same age she is. She used to spend time under it often, as a kid, and some of her earliest memories involve sprawling beneath it to study the heavens while her mother gardened. She would also sneak berries from the patch when her back was turned. Sometimes her dad would join in her pilferage, and they would sit beneath the tree like a couple of bandits with stained lips, though those first few years she can remember he barely fit underneath it, as tall as he is. Many a tickle fight had been had, shaded by those branches. She would read books there on nice afternoons, when she was a little older.

The tree is fully grown now, also on the final cusp of its blooming for the year, floriferous wood expanded outwards to drape her childhood stomping grounds in a sea of soft pink. They have a picnic under it every year, in her family’s backyard, when they celebrate her birthday together. Her actual birthday has come and gone, but her birthday dinner is two days from now. Her parents swung by her apartment on Sunday afternoon for a bit with outlandishly large cupcakes, but her mom had mentioned they’d do dinner and a gift on their usual night, Thursday, since it works so well with their schedules every other week.

“We have to have your picnic, under your tree, like always. It’s a tradition! My beautiful girl. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like just yesterday you were only yay high,” her dad had told her, gesturing below his knees before hugging her too tightly, ruffling the hair she'd inherited from him before they left. The cupcakes were strawberry with cream cheese frosting, one of her favorite treats. They’d left her with four extra to enjoy between then and Thursday, one for each day if she wanted it, turning her birthday into more of a week-long affair than a one-day celebration.

She and Ino had demolished two of them while watching some of the terrible movies they love to hate together, later that evening. It had been a smorgasbord of strawberries, really, because they'd washed them down with strawberry daiquiris, sugary sweetness topped with ridiculous amounts of whipped cream. They'd sat on her balcony, after, sipping a little tipsily and just looking.

"You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it," Ino had said, beckoning vaguely towards a Konoha beginning to bloom, renewed with a warm breeze, spring ushered in by a fluttering of pink petals. Ino likes to give compliments in roundabout ways, she’s learned over the course of their friendship; crass as the blonde can be, she does have her moments. Her words meant a lot to Sakura, so she’s trying to take them to heart, to stop and smell the cherry blossoms, so to speak. It won’t be long before Konoha crescendos into the sweltering heat of the summer.

She loves her parents and her friends. She really does.

But birthdays are weird, Sakura thinks.

Last year, Sasuke had sent her a letter on her birthday. She’s reread it so many times that she has it more than memorized; it’s stitched into the muscle tissue of her heart at this point, or maybe scarred into the lining of her aortic valve, sempiternal markings adorning the tunnels that sustain her, causing her breath to catch every time.

Sakura,

Hanami has come to the wilderness in the Land of Honey. Bees are awakening and foraging for the first pollen of the season, with which to begin again. Cherry blossom petals are everywhere, lining the pathways and floating on the water.

Happy birthday.

-Sasuke

It had been short, simple, and even a little poetic; she had cherished it, as she does all of his other letters. She’d cherished the pressed flower with it just as much; a cherry blossom, neatly flattened with a precision that screamed Sasuke, near exactly the same shade of pink as her hair.

Sakura had started crying when she unfolded the paper to reveal it sitting atop his words. His hawk had waited patiently at her office window for a response to be written and tied to its leg, perched atop the windowsill and watching the goings-on of the village below, absolutely no concept in its predator brain of how much she delights in seeing it fly, a graceful tether to the boy - now man - she has been in love with for ages.

Cherry blossom petals are everywhere. Is there a hidden meaning there, or is she making a mountain out of a molehill?

She’s tried not to read too much into the letters. She's not sure if he sends any to Naruto or not; she's too afraid to ask, because she'll either get a heart-pounding hope if he doesn't get them, or a soul-crushing disappointment if he does. She can't imagine him sending a yellow flower to Naruto, but he may very well have sent him a different gift for his birthday.

Maybe he just thought she would like a flower, which she did - it’s pressed for safekeeping, along with all of his other correspondence to her, sporadically and chronologically throughout a book she keeps on her nightstand, An Introduction to Electrocardiography. It is her take on an album of small things she holds close to her own heart, things she wishes she could read in his. Sakura didn’t want to buy an actual album for such a thing; that felt too formal, for something as ambiguous as her ties to Sasuke, overflowing on her end as they may be. So she’d settled on a book about deciphering the heart’s tells based on science only, electrical impulses and repolarization, the sizes and positions of the chambers, how to diagnose conditions utilizing one’s findings. It’s one she doesn’t need access to anymore, extremely familiar with EKGs after years of study. She’d wanted it to be something no-nonsense, all hard facts and data on how to read activity plotted over time.

Evidence-based. Are letters evidence, though? She’s not sure that would hold up as empirical proof in any of the scholarly journals she’s studied or submitted work to since beginning her research. She thinks wryly, though, based on what she has witnessed get published, that scientific verification doesn’t always matter if you know the right people.

She’s thought many times sifting through it that perhaps it is too optimistic, too hopeful of a book subject for such a thing. Sakura has agonized over it, frankly, wondering whether it was an inappropriate choice.

...But now that they’re in there, it might ache worse to move them somewhere else.

It’s the last day of March now, and she didn’t get a letter this month, which is unusual, because she’s gotten one near each month in the time that he’s been away. She’s paged through the book a few times over the past several days, rereading and admiring the preserved sakura blossom, frozen in suspended animation indefinitely on a page about precordial leads.

Sakura hadn’t really expected anything from him for her birthday, other than a monthly letter like he usually sends... but this year she didn’t even get that. She’s trying really hard to not be disappointed. She has so much to be thankful for, in the grand scheme of things...

...But the petals of the cherry blossom from last year have faded over time, she’d evaluated yesterday, sitting in her bedroom. It might be like her, always pressed in a book, fading whilst stuck indefinitely between the boundless teeth of academia. There is always more data to record, more evidence, with which one can prove or disprove their findings.

No letter this month, though. Nothing to record, no new evidence.

It might be time to move the letters somewhere else, she thinks pensively. Maybe a place where she’s not tempted to look at them all the time; their placement in the book, small scraps of paper that stick out in only a couple of places, makes it easy to go back and reread them. She’s pretty sure she has an empty shoebox in her closet that she could move them to, in a pile rather than catalogued between pages rife with information and a fragile sort of hope. Maybe she’ll do it tonight, put it up in the far right corner of the upper shelf, shoved towards the back so she can’t reach it without the stool, so she’s not tempted whenever the next bout of heartsickness slams into her like one of Tsunade-shishou’s fists used to. She needs to go by the library after work first, to return some things, but maybe when she gets home, she’ll do it. She could eat a cupcake, too; that might make it a little easier.

Sakura misses him so much. She misses the faint smell of woodsmoke and sage, and mismatched eyes captivating in their intensity and unfathomable depths. The Rinnegan is beautiful, soft lavender ringed by hypnotizing layers of circle and tomoe, but flecks of silver dance in his right, tiny asterisms bewitching in nature, if one gets close enough; she’d first noticed it when they were children at the Academy. She knows they're Itachi's now, a slightly different scattering of luminaries aglow in the deep pitch of obsidian, but they're still as enthralling to her as they had been back then.

She dreams of that silver sometimes, recalls it any time she sees something similar in color or reflet. There’s an extremely unique necklace in an antique shop she visits with Ino and Sai from time to time, and occasionally on her own, over on the northeast side of town. It’s a salt-and-pepper diamond, dark grey with inclusions, dainty and set in what must be a hand-fabricated setting. It hangs from a silver chain, towards the back of a display case filled with other vintage and distinctive pieces, but it’s the only one she ever finds herself drawn to. It is so similar to his right eye, dark smoke near black, speckled with beguiling silver startling in its clarity. The bevel cut reveals new flecks dependent on the angle at which you view it.

Sakura studies it closely on each visit, because it is so hauntingly breathtaking and it reminds her of him.

Ino has said it’s not her color, and that she should stick to warm tones and gold, for which she is better suited; Sakura has not confessed to her why it catches her eye so much. Sai has agreed with his girlfriend on the coloring note, sensitive as he is to such things, but the way he studies her every time she tears herself away from it makes her suspect he knows exactly why it captivates her so. It’s been sitting there for years at this point; she has to mentally talk herself out of buying it on each visit. It’s beautiful, but she would spend far too much time gawking at it, and it might hurt more with extended study than the gentle tugging at her heart she experiences when she’s in that old building throughout tiny fragments of lackadaisical afternoons.

Sasuke has been gone for a long time. She hopes he's finding the peace he's been seeking, that he's seeing the world with new eyes just as he'd imagined. She thinks of him every day, sends out little orisons like petals in the breeze in the hopes that they’ll find him, wherever he is.

I wonder where he is now.

Try as she does to enjoy the breath of spring Konoha is right now, and her namesake as Ino said, all she can seem to do is shift her vision to the sky, hoping against hope for a glimpse of a familiar bird-of-prey that will stay an ample amount of time for her to craft a response, before it abvolates away for another month.

Sakura smiles, then, close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, because she is so predictable. She loves this village despite its many flaws and challenges, despite the things about it she and Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and Ino and even Tsunade-shishou, off in the Land of Wind, are trying to change, but even after so many years, she’s still pining for something beyond it, something in the wilds of the sky just beyond her reach.

There’s always next year, she supposes, pupils drawn again towards the outstretched branches of the cherry blossom tree on the hill, before trailing her eyes along further. She can grow a little more to try to reach him. When she was little, she had wanted to grow tall so she could try to touch a star, like the branches of the tree in her backyard did when she and her father laid beneath them on balmy summer nights. He would tell her ridiculous stories about all of the constellations, things she knew had to be untrue, even at the ripe age of five. Precocious, he’d always called her, but in the loving, joking manner he had.

Her gaze follows the horizon, leisurely taking in the rest of her home. It really is a lovely day, despite her yearning. Spring is here again, and today's is a gentle sunset, one last little bit of sunlight with which to conclude March. The temperature is already spiking, unusually warm for early spring, but summers in the Land of Fire are always hot. She really should finish her paperwork, but it’s hard to find the motivation just yet.

Something possesses her, then, to turn her neck more, take in more of the skyline's continuation. She wants to see all of it.

And then Sakura’s eyes fall on an achingly familiar figure cloaked all in black, perched only a roof away and observing her, and she thinks she must have nodded off, because she has to be dreaming.

She subtly pinches herself in the millisecond of time that follows, but she is very much awake.

The words are blooming out of her throat before she can even process what’s happening, exultation sinking into her every vein. “Sasuke-kun!” She moves to crank her window open the rest of the way, and he hops from the neighboring roof down into her office, all nimble legerity that she still thinks has to be a mere mirage conjured from her memories. When he straightens to his full height, she muses that he has to have grown taller. The mere sound of his footsteps on the tile flooring, as familiar a refrain to her as if he’d just walked out of the village yesterday, are a treasure beyond price.

“Sakura.” His voice is a rich timbre that she has desperately felt the absence of; hearing him say her name almost makes her want to cry. She smiles wider instead, to the extent that it almost hurts, and her gaze latches hungrily onto the very eye she was just daydreaming about. A storm of soot and silver, beveled into countless fragments like some kind of dark, rustic diamond, and so staggeringly beautiful that she’s pretty sure she’s blushing just from beholding it. Gods, it's not fair for someone to be so handsome.

“When did you get back?” She asks, utterly overcome with joy. This is better than a letter or any birthday gift she could have received, brighter than any star she’s beheld.

“Just now.” He’s smiling, a small and subtle upturn of lips that is so characteristic of him. Then his words hit her, and her face must be getting redder.

Just now? As in…

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he adds before she can simmer on that for too long, and she has to blink in bewilderment, because that is the absolute last thing she expected him to say. Sakura wonders how much heat can creep into one’s face before they spontaneously combust.

Then she realizes she should probably respond, as humans tend to do in conversations. “Oh! Um… it’s okay.” She folds her hands in front of her shyly, grinning like an idiot. “Thank you for remembering.”

There is a lengthy moment in which she just soaks him in, hoping he can read in her eyes how much she’s missed him. He is still so beautiful, prized eyes and aristocratic angles that have solidified a bit more into the face of a man in the time that’s passed. His hair is different now, covering his Rinnegan eye. His cloak is a little more threadbare, too. He’s tall.

His expression, normally unreadable, is calm. Content, even.

There’s a question nagging at her that she knows she needs to ask. She tries not to bite her lip as she asks it, braces herself for the possibility of not liking the answer.

“Are you… just back for a little while?”

Did you find what you were searching for?

He gazes at her for so long that she thinks he may be glimpsing her soul, peeking into her ventricles to see his own words immortalized there, seared into her core to be felt each time her blood pumps.

“...For more than a while.” And she smiles the biggest she ever has. Oh, this is so much better than a letter or a gift.

“Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It’s… very good to see you again.” It feels as if a piece of her heart has been returned to her, something of the divine stitched back into her chest and full to bursting in omneity.

There is a pause, and then he’s reaching his hand out towards hers, initiating physical contact with a touch that is feather light, so gentle she thinks she is going to start sobbing.

She can’t help it; she pulls him into a hug, tinged with elation. She hopes he doesn’t mind too much; he stiffens for a brief moment, but then settles, wrapping his arm around her and settling his head atop of hers, and she could die happy right there, embracing him with feelings momentarily set free from where they’ve been whelved into her chest.

He smells faintly like sage and smoked cedar, just as she remembered. She can hear his heart thumping, a strong cadence, and it grounds her. Oh, she’s missed him.

“...I’m home, Sakura.” Soft words float above her head, and she can feel the vibration of them through his chest, right by her ear.

Oh, she’s crying.

Sasuke lets her embrace him for a long time, for which she is so grateful. She knows he’s not one for physical contact; it’s a privilege to be allowed into his space even for a single second, let alone for an extended period.

She draws back eventually, glancing up at him again through the tears still collecting in her eyes. Her face blazes when he reaches to wipe them away tenderly with a calloused hand, careful and with a lenity that she’s always known was there, hidden under the surface.

She could just stare at him for hours, she thinks as he lowers his hand. He’s still looking down at her with one of the softest expressions she has ever seen him wear. She really hopes she’s not dreaming.

It’s tremendously hard to get it together, but she tries, because she doesn’t want to spend the entire time crying, not when he's finally back. There are so many questions she’d like to ask him that she’s finding it a challenge to pick one with which to lead.

He surprises her by speaking first, quietly. “I… had something made for you.”

It takes a moment for the words to compute.

Made for me?

Her processing speed must be exceptionally slow, stuck in the utter mush her insides have become, because he adds, “...For your birthday.”

Sakura blinks, and furrows her brows in confusion. “Made… for me?”

He nods. “...I’m sorry it’s late.” The way he speaks it is cryptic, like the apology weighs more than one needed for a tardy gift. Doesn’t he know she doesn’t care? He could have showed up in July with something for her, and it still would have made her knees weak and her heart thump furiously in her chest.

Made for me? She’s still stuck on that sentiment as he breaks eye contact and turns to rummage through his satchel, beneath his cloak.

Sasuke pulls out a medium-sized flat box, a simple white, and she doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Something that comes in a box is a lot more formal than a pressed cherry blossom, something more… permanent.

She reaches out to take it on autopilot, and is stupidly distracted by the way his hand brushes against hers, a small spark that makes something in her quake. She wonders if he felt it, too.

Sakura clutches the box with both hands like her life depends on it, murmuring softly, “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She’ll wait until later to open it, after he’s left; whatever it is, she doesn’t want to embarrass him, and she also isn’t sure she can tear her eyes away from him just yet, anyways.

Is it just the lighting in her office, or are his ears a little flushed? She didn’t notice that before; maybe he’s had a drawn-out journey back. She wonders how much ground he covered today, if he’s still winded. He might need to rest.

But then he mumbles, voice husky with what she assumes is disuse, “...You should open it.”

His words echo in her head again. I… had something made for you.

“Okay,” she answers in a hushed voice, so she doesn’t scare him away, shifting slightly to set the box on her desk carefully. Suddenly she is very nervous, anticipation settling into her gut.

When she lifts the lid, she swears her heart ceases beating.

The most exquisitely intricate uchiwa fan she has ever laid eyes upon is placed in the box before her.

It’s carved into a likeness of a cherry blossom tree, branches twisting lissomely into bamboo framework, impossibly fine. A different set of words is reverberating in her head now.

You should try to enjoy your namesake more this year, Forehead. You're so busy that I'm not sure you've realized, but you've really grown into it.

Made for me?

“O-oh.” Sakura is not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. She fights back the tears, biting her lip and wide eyes soaking it all in, enjoying her namesake in a way that is entirely unprecedented in its sheer severity. The amount of time it would have taken for someone to sculpt and bind and sew is unimaginable; every detail is finely wrought, flawless down to the silk and stitching, lacquered and carved pale wood shifting effortlessly into eighty slivers of bamboo, intricately webbing silk together with the lithe grace of gossamer. It’s a cherry blossom tree, petals and all, pearlescent thread shifting slightly, gorgeously in the light, unimaginable detail. She has stitched people back together countless times over the course of years, but even her expert dexterity would look like a child’s first embroidery stitching in comparison. The stamen within the petals are nearly more detailed and finely milled than an actual, real life cherry blossom, plexure sutured in a fashion so baronial that it’s impossible to believe human hands were even responsible for it.

The silk. Oh, the silk. The color shift bears a striking resemblance to the Uchiha insignia. This is not a gift one gives to a teammate.

Oh, she's crying.

This has to be a dream, some kind of paracosm her heart thought up to give her brain the high of a lifetime. Hope burgeons and unfolds in her chest cavity, bleeding into her extremities like the pale pink shifting into red before her eyes. She’s never, ever going to forget this, not even if she lives to be one hundred years old.

Made for me?

She picks it up with disbelieving hands, grasping it more carefully than she’s ever held anything in her entire life, as if she’s going to wake up at any moment and it will dissolve into synapse, lost in the hazy juncture of morning the way one tends to lose awareness of the contents of a dream upon coming to lucidity. To her absolute bewilderment, it stays solid in her hands, a finery made even more unbelievable by touch. The grooves of the carving are as gentle as his hand had been on hers earlier. She thinks it would have had to be commissioned at least a few months in advance, outlandishly expensive. She’s never seen silk like this. She doesn't know; she's smart, but she's no artisan. Maybe she should ask Sai. She's crying.

She adores it.

Tears won’t stop welling in her eyes; she thinks they may be escaping from a tender spot inside her chest that’s been reserved for him since she was a child, a leak in a metaphorical dam. She takes a steadying breath, blinks, almost has them conquered. Get a grip, Sakura.

Then Sasuke’s hand is on hers, gently turning the handle over.

Her name is carved into the pale wood, on the back in formal calligraphy, Sakura daintier and more perfect than she could ever write it, as if it had just been uncovered in one of the inner layers rather than whittled there manually. Sasuke presses her fingers to it before loosening his grip, and in that second it feels as though his lost hand is in the wood, caressing her from split atoms in the grooves from the other side.

The tears spill over her cheeks - she admits defeat - intricacy of the entire thing blurring out of focus but still somehow burned into her retinas for all eternity.

Made for me, made for me, made for me-

Her voice finds her after a few more tears fall. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed with complete and utter awe, trying desperately to choke down a sob. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I’ll treasure it. Always.” She cradles the fan closer to her chest, her heart - maybe An Introduction to Electrocardiography wasn’t a poorly-chosen book, after all; there is much to be read from something this precious - and regards him with watery eyes. She wishes she wasn’t crying; the distortion of the tears is making it hard to see the silver she’s loved and missed so much.

His hand lifts to her face after a moment, and to her surprise, he wipes away her tears again. She barely catches the something-more in his eyes, then, through the waterworks, precious metal flashing and pouring into the words scarred into her ventricles to live there forever, fortified in silver, but he is looking at her so -

“...Always,” he agrees, voice a little breathless, sparking scintilla near hypnotizing her in their luster, and he seems so happy -

Then he leans down to press his lips gently to hers, and this is better than her heart stopping, like when she opened the box. This time, her heart soars, and she touches a star she’s been dreaming of for eons.

[jawritter]

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 3

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow.

Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager.

He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings:  Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, fear of moving on.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word  Count: 1652

Dividers: @firefly-graphics​

A/N: This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work. Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!!

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“Ugh! Is this day ever going to end!” you groan as you flop down onto the unoccupied stool that was sitting in front of the bar. Old country music was blaring overhead and the chatter of customers filled the room. The smell of fast food was always so thick in this place that sometimes you felt it was suffocating, and today was one of those days. 

You wanted nothing more than to go home and sink into a hot bath with a glass of wine and a book. You only had one more hour, if you could just make it one more hour, then you could go home. 

“You’re getting out of here before closing at least,” Jess said as she came to drop some ones and fives into the cash register beside you. “I’m stuck here until closing tonight.” 

You were just about to point out how she would at least get good tips with it being a Saturday, but the sound of the door chiming alerted you both to the incoming customer, and you could tell by the grin on her face who had just walked in without even having to turn around. 

Jensen had been coming in every day since he’d come in that Sunday after church with his family. At first, he would come in and not say a lot, just sit at the bar or back corner booth and order his meal. He would try and make light conversation with you, nothing too alarming or out of the ordinary of what any other regular does. 

Then about a week in he started to try and make more in-depth conversations with you as you worked around him, either cleaning tables or waiting on him specifically. 

Jess had been running around you for days now insisting that Jensen had a crush on you. You yourself were not as convinced as she was. Sure, he was devastatingly attractive, and sure, he was an absolute sweetheart; but that didn’t change the fact that no matter how attractive you found him you were not in his league. 

“Hey ladies,” he said, flopping down next to you, and giving you a soft smile that seemed to make your knees weak every time he did that. 

“Well, well, look who’s back already,” Jess quips to him with a smirk of her own. Jensen laughs a little and shakes his head before taking the drink that she was handing him from across the counter. He’d been in here so much that you both could just about guess his order before he even got around to telling it. 

“I had to see my favorite girls,” he said, throwing his arm around you playfully, and causing a blush to burn deep in your cheeks. You were slightly thankful for the bell ringing that told you table three’s order was ready. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jensen, and if he saw you blushing you were sure you would literally die on the spot. 

You could feel Jensen’s eyes on you as you grabbed the tray of burgers and fries, and made your way over to the table where your customers were waiting. You were hoping that it would give you enough of a moment to collect your nerves before making your way back over to the bar where Jensen and Jess were still sitting. 

You had been doing some research on Jensen since you’d met him that day he’d left you the note and the large tip. Some things he’d already told you. Like his long-running show ending, the divorce he’d recently gone through, he’d told you about his three kids. The thing that bothered you the most, aside from why the hell he was hanging out here with you, was why they divorced?

He had still not told you that much, and you didn’t want to just out and out ask him, but the tabloids seemed to think it was because he was a cheater, and then some think it was because she cheated, which leads to a whole new set of rumors that go from Jensen being an abusive husband, to Danneel being a whore, and it was impossible to tell what was true and what was false. 

You knew it shouldn’t bother you, and you were in no way going to ask him what happened with his last marriage, but you wanted to know all the same. Your eyes drifted up to meet his piercing gaze as you grabbed the empty napkin holder from the table to replace it with a fresh one, and he sent you that same soft smile.

He was so contradictory to everything you had ever heard about celebrity men. He seemed so kind. He listened when you talked to him, and seemed legitimately to care about what you were saying. He was so self-sacrificing in everything he seemed to be involved in, and whatever he was doing, he seemed to put his all into it. He was passionate and caring, and everything any girl ever dreamed of getting when she was grew up.

The only problem you had was the fear that these feelings were one-sided and that you were mistaking his kind personality for something more, even though you knew you were nowhere near this man’s type. 

You had seen the pictures of his ex-wife, and you knew there was no way you’d ever be able to measure up to someone as beautiful as she was. So you knew that you had to get these emotions, this crush, under control before he comes in one day with another pretty girl on his arm, and it was all over for your heart. 

Why did you have to have a crush on someone so completely perfect, and at the same time so completely out of reach as soon as you decided to try and put yourself back out there? It was unfair at best, and tragic at it’s worse.  

Taking a deep breath you make your way back over to your current seat, and look up at the clock. Jensen didn’t miss the small glance and turned on his seat to face you fully, his gorgeous bowed legs spread and his knee touching yours, but he didn’t seem to mind or at least notice. You, on the other hand, you noticed, and it took a lot to concentrate because of the small contact his body was making with your own. 

“So, when do you get off today?” Jensen asked, grabbing a fry and shoving it in his mouth as a plate of food was placed in front of him.

“In about thirty minutes,” you tell him with a deep sigh, it had been a long shift. 10 am to 7 pm was the worst because it took up most of your day, and you got the bad end of both shifts, lunch and then dinner rush. 

“Oh,” he said, his handsome face falling a bit. “I was hoping I’d have a little longer to talk to you before you got off. I would have come in sooner, but I was on a Zoom call with my agency,” he said, some stress returning to his shoulders as he busied himself with his fries again. 

“Well, I’m here for a little bit,” you tell him, giving his knee a playful nudge with yours and earning a cheeky chuckle from him. “Are you getting ready to go back to California anytime soon?” you asked him, more than a little afraid of what the answer was going to be. 

You had gotten used to him coming in every day, and you didn’t like the thought that he might be leaving again. 

“No, not now anyway. That was just check-in and updates, more a waste of time than anything.”

You hoped the amount of relief you felt didn't show on your face as much as you thought it must have, and you had to bite down on your lip to stop the smile that started to creep up there. When you looked up at him you wondered how it was possible that his eyes could sparkle like that all the time.

“Well, what are you going to be doing then Mr. Ackles. You’re going to get tired of being here every day after a while. Texas doesn’t have as much to offer as L.A. I’m sure.” 

Jensen hummed and you could have sworn that his eyes traveled down to your lips before looking back up to meet your eyes again. 

“That’s a matter of perspective sweetheart.” 

You thought that you heard his voice dropped a whole octave, and you had to suppress the shudder that wanted to roll through your body. You hadn’t noticed that the two of you had been gravitating closer to one another while you were talking until Jess came and cleared her throat loudly from behind the bar. 

“You two love birds better be careful now, Y/N is still on the clock, and table six needs a refill.” 

Jensen clears his throat and sits up quickly, grabbing his drink as if his life depended on it, and you turned towards the counter as if you had been shot. 

“I’ll just go get that,” you mumble as Jensen chuckles and watches you run off to refill the drinks.

“Keep trying Jensen, she’ll come around,” Jess told him, and Jensen gave her a tight smile in return. 

“Oh, I don’t give up so easily on something I want,” Jensen said as he took a healthy bite from his burger, his eyes still trained to you as you talked to your customers. 

He didn’t know how, but he had to get you to open up to him. He thought he’d never feel this way about someone again after his world fell apart, but you were just the breath of fresh air that would keep him from drowning.

@deandreamernp

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[beyondthetemples-ooc]

OC-tober Day 2: Glass

OC-tober prompts put together by @oc-growth-and-development​! I have to ramble in meta instead of write, because my brain is Mush lately. (I know I’m behind but I have a lot pre-written, I just need to put it into coherent words!)

This one especially can be rambled about at length, because the most important “glass” object in my stories is one I greatly enjoy exploring: Dove’s mindscape mirror!

^ I drew it forever ago; here’s the deviantArt link if you’d like to see the big version! 

https://www.deviantart.com/ravenshiddensoul/art/Dove-s-Keepsakes-Mirror-and-Box-284227087

It’s largely modeled after a bird stretching its wings upwards, with a handle like a tail and certain details are inlaid with Azarathean gold to better channel its magics.

Now, this is where the rambling begins: The mirror’s backstory, and I’ll be exploring one of my favorite things to develop in all of my stories: Dove’s mindscape!

Dove's mirror isn't one of her most prized possessions, nor super incredibly sentimental, but it IS an object touched with her mother's magic, it has flourishes of Azarathean gold (some of the last pieces to exist), and it's useful for introspection and self-soothing, so it does have some value and importance.

Dove struggled with meditating quite a lot as a child, and there was only so much her mother could do to help. Meditation was pretty important to them as both a means of helping Dove control her powers, and as a staple of Azarathean spirituality. As she so often did, Alerina poked around and asked enough questions around the temple that she was told about Raven's mirror, and she decided to replicate it for Dove. She custom ordered a gold-lined wooden hand mirror, and then cast the spells to connect it to Dove's inner world herself. It took a few tries (it's much harder to connect something to someone else's mind than your own, after all), but she was nothing if not determined to help her daughter, and eventually figured it out.

As for its main purpose: Self-reflection! (If you'll pardon the pun.) Dove uses it to meditate, but where Raven uses hers for centering and compartmentalization, Dove uses it more as a blend of escapism and a focusing aid.

Much like Raven's, Dove's mirror acts as a portal to the depths of her mind, and this is where it gets fun!

The vortex that transports the users is usually white and gold, imbued with the same energies that give Dove her powers, at least on her mother's side. It's noticeably touched with black and red in DDD. (Dove's evil side starts taking over her mind, and thus its energies manifest through the mindscape, and Dove's portal into it, hence: black and red energies instead.) It tends to open up like a light tunnel and almost opens the mental world around the user, rather than dragging them in.

Once inside, one can't expect to navigate the same way as Beast Boy and Cyborg did in "Nevermore". Every mind is different, after all! We saw Raven's mindscape divided nearly into emotional sections with a neutral space between them, and the way through each area was preset and linear. While different parts of Dove's internal world manifest in different "areas", they're not so totally divided and separate, and there's no real "neutral" zone except at the very "center". The scenery changes, but it's more of a gradual transition, and though Dove employs thresholds to mark key areas, they're very much just visual aids.

Dove's mindscape is laid out more like a series of rooms and courtyards in a very (very, very, very) large mansion. The ground is generally of crystal, spires and columns decorate the scenery, and the thresholds are modeled after birds with their wings outspread. (While this seems like a play on Dove's namesake, it's actually based on Azarath's architecture, particularly that of George Perez's Azarath in the 1980's New Teen Titans comics.)

Dove's sky shows various stars and often casts moonlight from an uncertain source, particularly when she's introspecting. The ambient temperature varies amongst the locations, chilly in the regions ruled by fear and sadness, uncomfortably warm near her demon's domain, and comfortable and breezy where her peace and contentment reside.

One could easily get lost in her mindscape if they don't know where they're going. The place can shift and change on a whim.

Where Dove spends her time building that peace and contentment, it's very closely modeled after her mother's memories of Azarath (which is where she learned how to find peace, after all): there's marble and gold everywhere, and the stars twinkle with dozens of colors in the sky.

Where Dove retreats when there are feelings of timidity, her excruciating shyness, her grief and doubt, the world becomes shrouded in thick fog. Broken buildings and pale light litter the grounds.

Where she built her love for reading, for history, for creativity and study and learning, it's arranged as rooms with dark marbled tile and a carpeted path, the floor for dozens of feet on either side littered with piles of books.

Dove's inner happy place is an open field on gently rolling hills, where thoughts take the form of birds and somehow the sky holds both the stars and suns. One might find trees, flowers, abstract forms of cottages, and forts loaded with mugs and cozy cushions. If you wander far enough you'll find very tall stone walls surrounding it, because Dove's mind is such that her happiness is one of the few things she really truly believes she needs to protect from the rest of herself.

And then there are the aspects of herself that she shoves the deepest down, secreted far away from the surface: the anger, the hunger for power, the mean streak. (Yes, believe it or not, Dove does have a mean streak! You just have to work especially hard to bring it out. Or trigger her in just the right ways around sadism, violence, war, or death. It's very much Not Recommended; bringing too much of that mean streak out could mean Dove loses control of her powers, or worse: her demonic aspects.)

Those secret forces aren't so much located in one particular space of her mind as they're hidden in every dark corner, coursing through the underside of all the ground, a tantalizing power running through every part of her, only ever set free enough to use the dangerous powers to her own ends.

Her places for Fear and Curiosity in particular will be explored in the upcoming Missing: Raven rewrite. (As they're the strongest things Dove is feeling in that story, that's going to be what Beast Boy and Cyborg encounter.) I also explored the way these things manifest in DDD, and in that same story Dove will focus on rebuilding Peace in the final chapter.

I can't talk about Dove's mindscape without mentioning the "emoticlones". These fun little guys are called by the fanon term given to Raven's "emotion clones", the separate parts of her that express a specific set of traits based on particular aspects of her personality. I had so much fun playing with their voices and thoughts in Dove's head during DDD, you have no freaking idea! I also copied the concept of them having Colored Cloaks from Teen Titans canon, because honestly it's a quick and easy way to identify them, and the fandom's familiar with this system through Raven.

Which colors mean what was more inspired by details from a really old, now-defunct website called Cartoon Orbit that had separate "online trading cards" for each of Raven's emoticlones! On that site, Raven's were labeled as such, and this is what I based Dove's system on, loosely: - Pink: "Raven Happy" - Red: "Raven Rage" - Orange: "Raven Rude" - Yellow: "Raven Smart" - Green: "Raven Brave" - Brown: "Raven Fear" (I'm pretty sure there was a purple one, but I don't recall what it was called. "Love" maybe? That might be from fanon; this site was running like 15 years ago, and I was like 10 years old, so I hardly thought to pay Super Special Attention to it...)

But I digress. The point is, I adapted that system for the key aspects of Dove's unique personality, and came to understand them as follows:

- Pink: Joy, relief, coziness - Red: Cruelty, impulsivity, anger - Orange: Apathy, indifference, disregard - Yellow: Curiosity, study, intrigue - Green: Courage, determination, activity - Blue: Contentedness, pacifism, spirituality - Purple: Compassion, friendship, romanticism - Gray: Sadness, grief, longing. - Brown: Fear, fear, fear!

But for Dove's mind in particular, it's not only HER experiences and personality that form the world! She's a telepath, and though she holds others' privacy in very, very high regard and tries never to read someone's mind without their permission, her sense of receptive telepathy is ever-present. Echoes, lights, shadows, reflections of others' memories and thoughts might affect the very edges of her mind. It's a constant sense, but it only ever causes very ephemeral changes unless something deeply affects her.

Her mindscape also grows and changes as Dove grows and changes, experiences life, learns to cope, and changes how she handles her own emotions.

Most notably, the internal struggle in DDD tore her mind apart. Initially it was due to a breakdown of certainty and confidence, hastened by guilt and grief, but it soon became a deliberate tactic to wage war on the parts of Dove's mind that were trying to resist the evil; eventually her inner demon began intentionally breaking/corrupting everything it could touch.

By chapter 20, that evil is the only strong and stable thing in Dove's mind. Raven's attack to remove the evil in her took away that stability, and strength, and thus took away what was essentially the last support holding Dove's mind together. As it says in the story: "everything collapsed". Dove's mindscape was utterly destroyed, and only the most basic aspects of her remained.

For awhile, that left Dove unable to remember things clearly, or feel emotions without great pain. Rebuilding it to the point where she was able to talk and feel Mostly Normally again took months of meditation.

When Dove is kidnapped and Leyla has distressing dreams about her mother, she, Srentha, and Raven use the mirror to check on Dove by accessing her mindscape. With her powers stripped away, surrounded by people who mock her, and certain Fauni rituals sickening Dove to her soul, naturally her mind is very different: shadowy forms flitted at the edges of vision, the ground wavered, her discomfort was thick in the air and the constant fear made everything so, so cold. "Shadows" of others' thoughts flashed in and out of existence, and Dove's desperation manifests as fleeting voices on the wind. It's uncomfortable to be in her mind while she's so distressed.

It's also worth mentioning that her mindscape changes again, essentially "growing" the part of her that belongs to Love when she finally lets herself love Srentha, and it expands again when Leyla's born and Dove once more finds depths of love she didn't know she could carry.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Chapter Three - Play Me A Melody

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

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Word Count: 2.5K

It seemed that fate would simply not grace you with a nice outing accompanied by a one Shouto Todoroki. A huge rainstorm had descended upon Musutafu overnight, completely barring any outside activities for at least today, maybe even tomorrow. You sigh with disappointment as you look outside the long windows that belonged to your bedroom, the ivory white curtains pulled back to reveal the downpour. Normally you quite enjoy the rain - its presence like a freshly washed sheet on your bed, bringing a new sense of calmness to the world. But you really wanted this day, just this one day to enjoy the outside world.

“No matter how fierce your stare, it won’t change the weather’s mind, my dear.” You heard your fathers words as he entered your bedroom, giving you a knowing smile. The entire Yagi family seemed to accept the fact that you were looking forward to your time with the duke’s son, even though you hadn’t an inkling as to why those desires made themselves known.

“Mother Nature won’t make an exception for me?” You joke half-heartedly, turning around to meet your father’s gaze. He holds out his arm and you take it gently, allowing him to lead you down the staircase. “I assume Izuku is with Lady Uraraka?” You inquire, a small smile settling on your lips. You catch your father nodding out of your peripheral vision and mentally rejoice for your brother. “Izuku as a fiancé, I never thought the day would come.”

“Come now, Y/N, don’t be mean,” Your father insists, turning the both of you now towards the parlor. 

“I’m not Father, I promise, it’s just hard to believe he will be leaving the house so soon.” A forlorn expression graces your features as your father takes a seat on one of the plush couches - the one that your mother always used to occupy. He gives you a smile and takes your hand gently.

“I know it’s bittersweet, but think of the happiness Izuku will experience with his bride-to-be. There’s no conceivable reason that we could shield him from such joy.” Your father’s eloquent words resonated with you, giving you much needed solace when it came to the departure of your sibling. “Would you do me a favor, dear?” He asks, flipping open a book next to him.

“Anything, Father,” you say, words flowing easily.

“Would you play me something?” He asks with a smile, a sparkle seemingly in his eyes. You frown in confusion and tilt your head a bit.

“On the pianoforte?” You asked, trying to confirm his wants. He hums in response and pats your hand, letting you go. You make your way over to the little bench that sat in front of the pretty white pianoforte that stood proudly in the corner of the parlor, sheet music already propped up. “Any requests?” You ask as your hands ghost over the keys, feeling the smooth surface.

“Wherever your heart takes you.” You smile at your fathers words and set your hands above the keys, prepping for the music. It was a piece that was always in your mind - one your mother would play all the time whenever the four of you would all be in the parlor together. As soon as the notes flooded from the pianoforte, you felt yourself get lost in the music. With your eyes closed and your mind set on the melody, you let your fingers fly. Young women of your status are expected to learn how to do several things - needlepoint, painting, conversational skills, but your favorite was always learning how to play the pianoforte. It felt like less of a chore and more of a hobby to you. Memories of your mother sitting next to you on the very bench you were sat on were recalled to the front of your mind. You remember your legs used to dangle off of the mahogany seat, your hands barely reaching the white keys. All too soon they fled back to the depths of your mind, washing away as you played the final notes of the song. You took a deep breath after you finished and smiled.

“That was lovely, wouldn’t you agree?” Your father said. You rolled your eyes and rearranged the loose sheets of music in front of you.

“You will not have me praise myself Father, I couldn’t be so-”

“It was beautiful.” A voice different from your father’s drowned your senses and your eyes flicked immediately towards where your father sat, and where you found Shouto Todoroki. “Really, Y/N, you are quite talented.” You didn’t even try to hide the giddy smile that was spread across your face as you basked in Shouto’s compliment. You stood from the bench quickly and ran a hand down your dress to smooth it out.

“Thank you, Shouto, you flatter me. Don’t mistake me, I’m very glad you’re here, but may I ask you why?” Your question seemed to strike him as the red-and-white haired man straightened and his grip on his coat pocket seemed to tighten.

“Oh, ah, right,” He said, stammering a bit. “Well, because of the rain our outing got canceled, but I still wanted to enjoy the afternoon… with you…” He said. Your stomach seemed to be performing somersaults as you took in his words, reveling in the fact that he was there personally to see you.

“I would enjoy that very much Shouto,” you assure him, stepping forwards before both him and your father. “May I?” You ask your father. The man simply flips to the next page and suppresses a smile.

“As long as you are dropped off at home before 5:00 p.m. - that is when I expect Izuku to be back.” He says, granting you permission. You hold back a squeal and give your father an enthusiastic nod. Your eyes glance back to Shouto’s when you take in his rainy-day appearance. 

“Ah, right, let me get my shawl and I’ll be right down.” You tell him, walking quickly towards the staircase leading upstairs. You break out into a sprint when you’re out of his eye-sight and forcefully open the doors to your armoire, your fingers carding through all of your clothing. Finally finding what you were looking for, you pull on the shawl and tie the ribbon in front of you, securing it in place. As a last minute thought, you grab a ribbon of the matching color and tie it nicely around your hair. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror before flying back down the stairs to meet Shouto. You smile at him before taking his arm as he leads you outdoors. It’s just customary, this is just what happens when you are accompanied by a man, you remind yourself, the feeling of his soft jacket on your fingers. That’s when you realize - your gloves! You had completely forgotten them in your flurry of activity. Shouto seems to recognize your panic and swallows, a light blush apparent on his cheeks. “I-I can go back and get them,” you propose, already turning back towards the staircase.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly, giving you a nod. “I’ll, uh, just be wary of where my hands are- not that they’d venture anywhere!” Shouto exclaims, looking away from you and instead straight ahead of him, not bearing to embarrass himself any further. You give him a light smile at him and continue your walk outside of the door. To your surprise, no carriage was waiting in front of your home - instead, a simple umbrella was propped up against the side of the house. 

“Shouto, did you walk here?” You ask, seeing him flick open the umbrella to hold over both of your heads.

“I didn’t want to bother any footmen - I myself would hate to stand outside in this rain, so I figured they would as well.” The walk was silent for the most part, just little comments here and there about things that came into view or were on the front of your minds.

“So where are we heading?” You ask, clutching a little bit more tightly onto Shouto’s coat, the chill of the downpour finally making itself known to your skin.

“My original thought was to visit a quaint little café near my estate, but looking at the weather I fear it might be a bit much.” Your heart fluttered at how he was prepared for your outing and could tell that he was sad that both of the plans he had made were unraveling due to the rainstorm. All of a sudden, a loud boom of thunder cracked in the sky, sending a shiver down your spine and a yelp from your mouth.

“I, uh, would have to agree the weather is quite ferocious,” you confess, laughing slightly at your little outburst. The two of you saw a bolt of lightning flicker across the sky, causing Shouto to walk a little bit faster.

“Come, my estate is not that far from here, we can take shelter there until the storm has passed,” You were all too happy to go along with him, that a concern of yours almost lay forgotten.

“I-I couldn’t possibly - it is one thing to be strolling about a public square with you, but entering your home-”

“I have a sister - she can serve as a chaperone.” Shouto interrupted, reassuring you of worries. You nodded quickly, and along with Shouto, walked briskly to where his estate took up residence. It was absolutely breathtaking - the large oaks that bordered the road were perfectly symmetrical, there were two ponds on either side that were shimmering, and the house. Of course, you were very privileged yourself and could afford many pretty things, but just looking at the Duke of Endeavor’s mansion made you feel leagues beneath the man standing next to you. “Let’s head inside, we wouldn’t want to catch a cold, would we?”

“No of course not,” you said breathlessly, still taken aback by the size of his home.

As soon as the doors were pushed open, four servants were already there, awaiting Shouto’s beck and call.

“Shoji, please ring the seamstress and ask her to bring up some new clothes for Lady Yagi, she is simply soaked to the bone. Asui, if you would please prepare any accommodations the Lady might need, that would be wonderful. Hagakure, I need you to call for my sister so that she may be present when Lady Yagi is able to greet me again. And Tokoyami?” Shouto hesitated at calling his last servant's name. “Alert my father that we have a guest.” All of a sudden, the maid you knew to be Asui escorted you to the left wing of the mansion, urging you to go into one of the rooms. Even if it was just a guest chamber, it was absolutely luxurious. From the four-poster canopy bed to the massive bathroom, you felt as if you had just entered heaven.

“I’ll prepare a bath for you, ma’am, feel free to undress and pull on that robe laid out for you on the bed,” Asui shuffled into the bathroom and began to draw the warm water as you unbuttoned the back of your dress, feeling relieved as the heavy and wet layers were peeled off of your skin. Quickly, you put your arms through the sleeves of the silk robe, reveling in the feeling of the soft fabric kissing your skin. “Alright ma’am, it should be ready,” Asui says, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Thank you so much Asui, I really appreciate it,” you say warmly, lightly touching her shoulder before you step onto the cold tile. You made a beeline straight for the bath and immediately sank your body into the tub, sighing in relief as the warm water washed over you. Just for about ten minutes, then I’ll exit and get dressed, you tell yourself, making a mental note. You took care to rub the soap over your skin and inhaled deeply, sensing the scent of ginger and vanilla. “Must be expensive,” you mumble, noting how strong the vanilla scent was. “This had to be imported from Madagascar.” You shrugged and continued to wash yourself, then drained the water when you finally finished. You pulled the robe back on and stepped into the chamber, finding a dry - and seemingly brand new - dress on the bed. It was utterly gorgeous - the pale yellow color reminding you of spring, the neckline sweet, and the puffs of the sleeves perfect. As you step into it, a small piece of paper falls to the floor. Curious, you pick it up, and blush as you read it.

This is Lord Todoroki’s favorite color - it seems he has taken a liking to you, so we wanted to make you shine! - Yu Takeyama, official seamstress of the Todoroki family

You grin at the little note and tuck it into the side of your dress, saving it to keep. After snapping the last button into place, you gathered your hair and put it up into a simple updo - a bun with some braids wrapping around it. Finishing it all off with a pale yellow ribbon, you stepped out of the room to find Asui, Hagakure, and a woman a few years older than you.

“Ah! You must be Lady Yagi! It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Shouto’s older sister Fuyumi,” She says warmly, giving you a pleasant smile. Your eyes go wide and you dip into a curtsy.

“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace, thank you for allowing me into your home,” you say calmly, coming back up to meet her eyes. With a kind smile and a nod of her head, she leads you down one of the many hallways of the estate. The two of you make small talk, commenting on the latest styles of dresses for young women these days, how sudden the storm was, and small anecdotes about the last ball. However, the two of you were interrupted by someone shouting in the room next to you.

“-have you completely lost your mind?! Inviting some loose woman into our household?!” A feeling of dread settles into your stomach as you quickly comprehend what, or rather who, was the topic of conversation. You.

“Father, I will not have you speak of Lady Yagi that way. She is a friend of mine’s sister, and she has become quite a good acquaintance of mine!” Shouto’s outburst made you feel a bit uneasy, your arm reaching for Fuymui’s next to you.

“A good thing she is just that - seeing as you are to be engaged to the daughter of Count Yaoyorozu.” Those words caused ice to flood your senses. Mindlessly, you turn around and head straight to the front door of the estate. You heard nothing but your heart beating in your ears - you couldn’t hear Shouto’s argument that no, he wasn’t engaged to Momo Yaoyorozu, the daughter of Count Yaoyorozu. You couldn’t even hear Fuyumi pleading you to stay, but most importantly, you couldn’t see Shouto burst out of the study that he and his father were yelling in, catching the glimpse of you running out of the door.

A/N: Houston, we have a problem... are we approaching a bit of... angst...?