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dearfuturehusbandblog · 1 month

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ZMAN CHEIRUSEINU aka "I'M the terrible communicator!?!?!?!!"

Dear Future Husband,

I hope nobody ever quizzes me on this blog because there are so many things that I've started and stopped writing that never got posted that I literally never remember what I've actually put here...

Not that that's really fully relevant to what I was thinking about writing now, but I currently have two unfinished posts in my drafts folder (amidst 25 others that will probably never get posted) that are just a recap of this year so far.

Because I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare.

Explaining what's going on right now is kind of problematic because I haven't provided the lengthy backstory yet (which is one of the drafts I have yet to finish...)

Suffice to say, MotherLivelyHeart is being a nightmare to me again.

I think I've shared before that MLH and I share a vehicle? If not... yeah, we share a car. I'll have to look through my posts to see if I've explained that situation before, because that's one more thing to check off the "my life absolutely f*ing sucks" list.

Usually this isn't the worst thing in the world because we operate on different schedules and there isn't much crossover when it comes to who needs the car when, and when there is I usually drop her off somewhere, do what I need to do, and pick her up after.

For the record, I HATE when she offers the opposite because I have a history of being abandoned in places waiting for her to pick me up and it gives me such severe anxiety.

So last week on Sunday I asked MLH what her plans were for the next day. I asked this because I overheard a phone call she received on Friday from the dentist's office about an appointment she had on Monday at noon that she hadn't told me anything about and I knew if I was going to ever find out she was going to take the car, I would have to be the one to ask her. So I asked. And wouldn't you believe it, she had a dentist appointment on Monday at noon! Shocker.

Now, I'd been out of work since the beginning of January (again, details will hopefully be in another post) so I had a lot to take care of at work last Monday and I told her that.

We agreed she would have the car for her appointment and I would take the car to work when she got home.

Come Monday afternoon, suddenly everything has changed.

You see, her boss called in sick and she had the day off because she has a specific job that requires her to work alongside her boss and if he doesn't work, she doesn't work.

So she had the day off. Joy.

Of course, did she tell this to me directly? No.

Did she message me this information? No.

I'm just supposed to approach her and ask, "hey, did your boss call in sick and give you the day off?" I guess.

So she went to her appointment and ran some errands and called me while she was still out. Apparently some specific water bottles she can only get in like two places were available at one store about 20 minutes away from our house and she placed a pickup order so she could get them before they were sold out. The order had to be picked up between like 2:30-3:30pm and she called me at around 1:30.

Great.

She picked a pickup time that was directly during the time I was supposed to be at work.

Which she knew.

Because I told her this literally the day before.

So I told her fine. She should do the pickup order and when she got back I would take the car to work.

"Well, I also wanted to go swimming."

*Deep breath* Ok, what time is swimming?

"From 2-9pm."

At this point I didn't know how long I'd be at work because one of the things I had to take care of could be like 4-6 hours and I didn't know if there would be enough time when I was done to get home and let her get to the pool with enough time to swim before they closed.

"Ok, well why don't you go swimming, do the pickup order, and then I'll take the car to work?"

"Well, I want to come home and eat something first."

Ok. So now, what was supposed to be my time to take the car is going to be "stolen" by her coming home (15 minutes), eating something (15 minutes), going to swim (40 minutes), getting the pickup order (30 minutes), and coming back home (20 minutes).

This is TWO HOURS off of my time.

WHICH I HAD TOLD HER I NEEDED LITERALLY THE DAY BEFORE.

So she came home, ate something, and changed into her bathing suit. She left around 2pm for the pool.

I assumed at this point I'd hear from her around 3:30pm that she was around the corner.

But 3:30 came and went.

4:00pm came and went.

4:30pm came and went.

5:00pm came and BigSis messaged that she would be done at work in an hour and could either of us give her a ride home?

MOTHERF@*$%^#$ER

So it's been three hours without an update from MLH, but then she responds "I should be on my way back from the pickup order then."

EXCUSE ME!?!?!?!

She left for the pool at 2pm. THREE HOURS have gone by and she hasn't even gotten the pickup order that was supposed to be picked up between 2:30-3:30pm!?!?!?!!?!?

But she tells me that I'M a terrible communicator.

I was supposed to get the car by 1:30pm latest. It was now after 5pm and I STILL hadn't gotten to work yet.

As much as I hate when she offers to drop me off at work so she can take care of things that will take a few hours, SHE DIDN'T EVEN ASK ME THAT. She made it seem like I would have the car all afternoon to take care of what I needed to at work. And when her plans shifted, she made it seem like I'd have the car by 3:30pm latest.

And let me remind you THAT I TOLD HER THE DAY BEFORE WHAT MY SCHEDULE WAS SO THAT THIS S*** WOULDN'T HAPPEN.

But I'M the terrible communicator.

At that point I was so frickin annoyed already. MLH messaged me "should I get her or just come home" and I was so peeved I said "just get her because if you come home and I take the car I'm not picking her up."

She didn't respond to that message.

Great.

No thumbs up. No "ok." Just nothing.

Then at 6:12pm I get a message from her "car's downstairs in front."

So no message from BigSis that MLH had picked her up and they were heading home. No "we're around the corner." No nothing except over an hour later "take it."

BUT I'M THE TERRIBLE COMMUNICATOR!?

At that point it was too late for me to do some of the things I needed to take care of for work because, again, I was supposed to have been there FIVE HOURS EARLIER. And a friend messaged and asked if I could go with her to Costco, so I said to hell with it and I went to Costco with her.

While I was at Costco I messaged both MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis about what I was getting so we were all on the same page. Included in that message was eggs because, well, I was getting eggs.

I got home at like 10pm and MotherLivelyHeart and BigSis were already asleep. I made a couple of mini salami kugels with some spinach that oddly floated to the top, waited for them to cool, tried 1/4 of one before sticking them in the fridge.

Next morning I open the fridge and there's a new carton of 1.5 dozen eggs. Because apparently MLH went to the supermarket early in the morning and got eggs because "we were out."

DESPITE ME LITERALLY MESSAGING THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT I WAS BUYING EGGS AT COSTCO.

Oh, but it gets better. Because the salami kugel I had tasted the night before was missing.

BigSis was working from home so I asked her about it and she said she had no clue.

So I asked MotherLivelyHeart about it, thinking maybe it slipped out of the fridge, smashed, and she threw it out.

But no.

Guess who ate it.

Yep, the woman who has been suffering from gout and avoiding meat for the better part of a year.

The woman who saw it in the fridge and said to herself "oh, that's one of the broccoli kugels LivelyHeart made for herself for Shabbos that she said wasn't good. I guess I'll eat that for breakfast without asking her if she really doesn't want it because although she's on a weird diet right now, there's no way she's made a meal plan for herself that includes this food item she made for herself."

Because, did she message me to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Did she knock on my door to ask if she could have it?

Nope.

Halfway through eating it she realized it was salami.

And she still finished the whole thing.

And still at NO POINT did she message me AT ALL to even tell me that she ate it.

I had to find out by inquiring OF HER.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR!?!?!?!

I shouldn't be mad.

It's just food, after all, right?

Except that it's not.

It's a frickin pattern of carelessness and disregard for me as a person.

And I'm so frickin sick of it.

I'm so damn tired.

It wouldn't have killed her to ask.

It wouldn't have killed her to apologize.

And what I haven't really explained here (because again, that's in a draft post) is that I've been on an elimination diet since January 1st which has cut most things from my available food selections.

But is she on an elimination diet?

Nope.

So we have a HOUSEFUL, a PANTRYFUL, and a FRIDGEFUL of food she can eat.

And she chooses the ONE thing I made FOR ME.

Which she KNEW I made for ME.

Instead of the MYRIAD OF THINGS that she can eat that I can't.

Which means that she's not only taken a meal from me, but now I'm at a food deficit from the fridge while she lives in abundance.

BUT. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

So let's leap forward to today.

Today was Shabbos mevorchim. Pesach is in two weeks.

And MotherLivelyHeart decided we are going to change over the kitchen two weeks ahead this year.

So she scheduled her cleaning lady to come tomorrow (Sunday) to help clean the kitchen so it can be turned over.

Did she take into account that this would be motzei Shabbos and that we'd have to make Shabbos and that would involve dirty dishes and use of the stove/oven and pots and pans?

Yeah, no.

Did she take into account that the way she wants to clean the oven requires the oven to be self-cleaned before and after which takes a good several hours and creates so much smoke that we'd have to keep the windows open and also it's like 40F right now and she also wanted to go to sleep early because the cleaning lady is coming at like 8am?

Yeah, no.

BigSis went over the oven cleaning thing with her and she exclaimed "are you kidding me?! Then why am I having the cleaning lady come tomorrow?!"

BECAUSE YOU SCHEDULED HER WITHOUT CONSULTING US.

BECAUSE THERE WAS NO COMMUNICATION.

DO YOU SEE A FRICKIN THEME HERE!?!?!!?

Oh, but there's more. Because there's always more.

Thursday was another nightmare day for various reasons. One of which was that I ran errands with MotherLivelyHeart.

She scheduled an appointment for smackdab in the middle of the time I told her I'd be working.

YES. AGAIN.

And she wanted to drop me off at work and pick me up when I was done.

Well absofrickinlutelynot, thankyouverymuch.

I was supposed to work until 6pm.

I had told customers I would be available until 6pm.

Her appointment was scheduled for 6pm.

So of course "I need the car at 5:30pm."

She wanted to drive me to work earlier so that she could take the car at 5:30pm to her appointment that wouldn't be done until 7pm and then come get me an hour and a half after I was done working.

But I was supposed to trust that she wouldn't run errands or dilly dally around and that she'd actually get me at 7:30pm, which we know is never the case.

So I told her no, I'd be taking the car to work. But I would notify the customers I'd only be there until 5:30pm, at which point I'd get her and drive her to her appointment. Then while she was in her appointment I could do the Shabbos shopping, since it seemed pointless to have to wait for her to come home again before I could go out and shop.

For various reasons, we had three stores we needed to go to, one of which was about 20 minutes in the opposite direction of where her appointment was. I figured I could go there first, then on my way back to get her I could run by the other two stores, get her and then we'd go straight home.

But no.

Because it was raining and people apparently don't know how to drive in the rain. So despite me taking the highway, which should have cut like 10 minutes out of the ride each way, it took me about 30 minutes to get to that first store, which I was in for maybe 10 minutes, and as I was checking out MLH messaged "my appointment is almost over, where are you at?"

So all I had time for was turning around and going straight to get her.

Which, fine, whatever.

One of the stores we went to literally just for chicken.

And it was chicken for her because she wanted a specific type of breaded chicken for Shabbos.

So I figured I'd run into the store and grab it while she stayed in the car.

But no.

Because while I was unbuckling, she was unbuckling. Because she decided to come in.

So she went to look at side salads and I went to the chicken section where I waited but she never showed up.

Then I get a message from her.

"Where are you?"

Excuse me???? WHERE ARE YOU, WOMAN???

I told her I was at the chicken section waiting for her and she said "I already checked out. I'm going back to the car."

WE LITERALLY WENT TO THIS STORE TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

SHE CAME IN WITH ME.

PRESUMABLY TO BUY HER CHICKEN.

But she's checked out already!? WITH WHAT!?

Oh. Apparently something to eat. Because she's hangry.

Which she, OF COURSE, DID NOT TELL ME.

Fine. Whatever.

So I bought her frickin chicken.

And then on the way home she got mad at me about three driving-related things that were out of my control (like the car started making a weird noise that might be the muffler, and there was a huge pothole I couldn't avoid, and I was coming to a stop at an intersection when some lady rounded the corner quickly and we barely missed colliding...) which resulted in her yelling at me that she hates the way I'm driving.

So, yeah, that was a fun ride home.

*EYEROLL*

Anyway, on the way to her appointment she said "we never worked out a Shabbos menu."

I told her the same thing I've told her almost every week over the last three months: I'm eating differently from you guys, so you just tell me what you want and I'll grab it from the store, because I already have set aside what I'm going to eat.

And she tells me "my boss has off tomorrow, so I can cook."

Which is perfectly fine in my eyes because I'm still recovering from an injury (again, that's one of the drafted posts...) and I also had a horrendous cold for the previous two weeks so I'm still trying to get back to baseline. Any pressure off me is appreciated.

We basically worked out that for shabbos we'd do a big soup for Friday night (which I would make), then she wanted chicken (obvs) and I had bought green beans at Costco I told her she could have, and then Shabbos lunch would be fish and salady stuff.

Well, Friday rolls around.

The day already sucked because I tried adding some vegetables back into my diet during the week that are apparently problematic for my digestion. Fun.

But then MotherLivelyHeart decides to stick to her arbitrary Pesach cleaning schedule which says to clean the milchig dishes she's had piling up all week. So of course she decides to do this at like noon and doesn't finish the job and there are still milchig dishes in the sink at 3pm when I need to go in and make the soup.

Add onto that, one of my "chores" is the pareve dishes, some of which have been piling up too and also need to be done, which she feels the need to remind me of, despite her milchig dishes still filling the sink.

So I go in around 3pm and just start cooking, using the small bit of counter space that's available to me.

She decides that's the perfect time to finish the milchig dishes.

FINE. WHATEVER.

She gets them out of the way and reminds me YET AGAIN about the pareve dishes.

FINEWHATEVER.

So around 4pm I'm back in the kitchen, doing the pareve dishes, of which I only got about half done because it was causing pain and I still had to cook.

So I pivoted and did the soup.

But nothing else had been cooked yet.

So I made the green beans.

And I had to separate the soups so I could add things to theirs that I can't eat.

At this point I'm still annoyed from her the day before, my insides are so unhappy with the newly tested foods, I'm in pain from the injury, and I'm trying to cook for Shabbos.

Around 6pm I asked BigSis if she could help with the chicken. She was like "I STILL HAVE TO SHOWER!!!" As though she didn't have all day for that and somehow me needing help is my fault. She said "if you had asked me like three hours ago I could have done it."

Except that three hours ago, the milchig dishes were still filling up the sink, so.... what exactly do you expect from me!?

Sometime a little earlier when MotherLivelyHeart had been in the kitchen it was clear I wasn't doing so well and she asked what was wrong and I described the pain and she was like "I'm sorry" and then disappeared.

So then she gets a "20 minutes to candle lighting" alarm on her phone, and she's been trying to light early in zchus of the hostages and chayalim, so she calls out "20 minutes to licht benchen." Which I responded to but she didn't hear, obviously, because she yelled again "LivelyHeart, did you hear me!?"

To which I responded an annoyed "YES!!" and she was like "you don't have to talk to me that way! I clearly didn't hear you. And BigSis and I can make Shabbos on our own, you know."

Which, MYGODWOMAN. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO.

My responsibility based on our conversation was the soup.

ZE HU.

SHE was supposed to do the chicken and the green beans and whatever else they wanted.

So now she's annoyed at me because I'm annoyed at her for not doing the thing she was supposed to do, but I'M the one in the wrong.

FINE. Whatever.

In the end I didn't do the chicken.

I literally didn't have the strength for it, let alone the energy.

Not that it was really missed at the meal, but she was a bit annoyed and gave me that same "BigSis and I can cook for Shabbos on our own, you know." To which I responded "You said you were going to cook." I literally don't even remember what her response was.

Well, fast forward through Shabbos to tonight because I asked her if she wanted the chicken for melava malka or if we should stick it in the freezer for a week since it's KFP.

She wanted it for melava malka.

Which, fine, whatever.

I told her if she could bread it, I would cook it.

She got gloves, she got bowls, she got the chicken, and she got eggs.

She did not get the other ingredients she needed for the breading. Or a plate to put it on. Or a fork.

She sat down at the table and then asked me to get the other ingredients.

Which, fine. Whatever.

I got an interesting piece of mail that I'll discuss in another post when I know more what's going on with it, but it basically called my attention to research something. So I was on my computer off to the side while she was breading the chicken.

The next thing I know, she's frying the chicken.

I went into the kitchen and asked her why she was frying it when I told her I would do it for her since cooking usually exhausts her, and she got all frustrated and exasperated at me and said something like "I DON'T HAVE ALL NIGHT TO WAIT FOR YOU."

And I was like, "what are you talking about!? I was waiting for you to finish breading it! you didn't tell me you were done!"

Which just pissed her off more.

BECAUSE. I'M. THE. TERRIBLE. COMMUNICATOR.

But this is the time of year we celebrate freedom, right?

This is the time of year we thank Hashem for rescuing us from a horrible situation.

Well, where's mine?

We're supposed to celebrate every year as though WE ALL left Mitzrayim.

As though we were ALL saved.

But I am not saved.

I have never been saved.

The stupidity I've just described above is just a piece of the insane patterning of my entire life.

I have no escape from this nonsense.

And I'm just so done with all of it.

I want it all to be over.

I want it all to go away.

Where's my freedom?

Where's my salvation?

I really have to finish those other two drafts, because this isn't even the clearest picture of what I've been dealing with since 2024 started. It's barely April and I just want this secular year to be over.

There are a couple of people who have suggested guys to me over the last several months and, although they're not really what I'm looking for, right now I just don't have the emotional energy for a new relationship. I'm just so burned out from this one that I deal with every frickin day of my stupid life, which of course I can't even tell these people.

So... dear future husband, I hope you can hang in there, because I don't know when I'll be ready for you.

But maybe by then I'll be a good communicator.

-LivelyHeart

And now for the story after the story:

So, after that disaster of a drive back from the store on Thursday night, we got home around 8:30pm and although she got something small to eat from that second supermarket I knew that MotherLivelyHeart hadn't eaten anything since lunch so when I made dinner for myself I made a second bowl for her. I brought it to her and she said "oh... you didn't have to do that." Not a lot of enthusiasm there.

She didn't eat it for about a half an hour, by which time it was probably cold, and the next thing I knew, she was in bed going to sleep without another word about how it was.

Now, I don't demand praise or feedback for anything I cook, but she usually makes a comment about whatever I make, so I found it odd that she was silent on the matter.

On Friday I went to ask her about something else and while I was talking to her I asked how her dinner was the night before and she said something along the lines of, "it was... interesting. ground chicken just doesn't cook well, it's not your fault. you prepared it well, it's just not that good. ground turkey is better."

No "thank you," no "it was sweet of you to think of me," no "I appreciate the effort especially considering that you're working through the pain right now."

Just meh.

I love when I'm appreciated.

#jumblr #frumblr #shidduch #frum #jewish dating #orthodox #shadchanim #shidduchim #jewish #shadchan #shidduch dating #dating #jewishdating #i am the shidduch crisis

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reverieparacosm · 7 months

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Me and My Writing Drafts: A Rollercoaster of Emotions

Me: stares at the screen Okay, time to write the next masterpiece!

Also Me: opens a new document Let's do this!

Brain: sends a million ideas at once Write about cats! No, wait, aliens! No, wait, a cat-alien invasion!

Me: creates multiple drafts simultaneously Why have one idea when you can have ten?

Me: scrolls through the drafts folder Ah, yes, my precious babies. So many possibilities, so little time.

Also Me: starts hyperventilating How can I choose just one? They're all my brainchildren!

Brain: mocking voice Remember that brilliant idea you had at 2 a.m.? Yeah, that one. Write about that!

Me: looks at the time It's 2 a.m. again. Of course, brain, why not torture me with more ideas when I should be sleeping?

Also Me: cries internally How can I ever finish anything when my brain is a chaotic writing factory?

Brain: whispers Hey, remember that unfinished draft from three years ago? Yeah, let's revive it!

Me: gasps The ghost of an unfinished draft haunting my writing career! Brilliant!

Also Me: clutches drafts tightly One day, my darlings, one day I'll conquer you all!

Me: sighs The struggle of a writer with too many drafts is real. But hey, at least I'll never run out of material!

#WritingLife #DraftsOverload #HelpMeImDrowningInIdeas #writing #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writer #writeblr #writerscommunity #writer things #writing community #drafts #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #neurodiverse stuff

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scintillafire · 2 years

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Ms. Secretary II || K.TH

⚠️ warning(s): taehyun x reader, ceo!taehyun, secretary!reader, dom!tyun, sub!reader, nipple play, multiple orgasm, dirty talk, passionate sex, hidden relationship, fluff, domestic couple

🗒: part two to 'Ms. Secretary' (requested! hope you will like this!)

💌: part one

.・✥・゜・。.

You were busy typing down a draft for a new paperwork when a co-worker came into your office, a stack of folders in her hands. As you looked up, you inwardly sighed as she entered.

"Hey, Y/n. These came out just an hour ago," She said while placing the folder on your desk.

"Thanks." You replied before dismissing her.

Not even thirty minutes later, more files and papers came in and you had no choice but to accept them.

One thing you remembered was that even if you're Taehyun's girlfriend, you still had to be a real secretary and accept these heavy tasks like any other employee in his building. Taehyun himself was also handling bigger situations and problems so he'd be able to ensure the progress of the company.

You missed him a lot since you haven't seen him that much this week and the previous week. You rarely saw him these days because he was always out, dealing with potential business partners and paying a visit to the construction of his new building.

You admire him for being serious with his work, but sometimes you miss him so much that you dreamed of throwing both of your work away and just spent the day laying on the bed with him.

The last time you saw him was three days ago, when he asked if you'd finished rearranging some papers for the new land he bought.

You sighed once again and with slumped shoulders, you continued your work.

Some minutes later, someone knocked and you jumped on your seat in shock. "Come in!" You managed to say while rubbing your eyes.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized who it was.

"Good evening, babe." Taehyun softly smiled. Your eyes were wide and your lips were parted as you stared at him. "Shifts ended two hours ago, why are you still here?"

You finally composed yourself and managed to answer, "Wanted to be a good secretary and finish my remaining tasks."

Taehyun chuckled and you watched him walk towards you. The deprivation drained you that you didn't get to stop yourself from standing up and hugging your boyfriend.

"I missed you," You mumbled onto the crook of his neck.

"I missed you too," He replied while wrapping his hands around your waist. "That's enough work for today. Come home with me."

You quickly pulled away, "I thought I'm only going with you on Saturdays and Sundays? It's only Friday and your maids and gardeners will see me."

"I sent them off for an early day off." Taehyun pouted. You squished his cheeks in response. He looked so cute like this and so you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a sweet kiss.

When you both entered his home, you took turns taking a shower and after that, Taehyun prepared a late dinner for you.

"You didn't have to." You told him.

"I saw how stressed out you look when I entered your office. You've been doing so much work for me, now let me serve you, babe." He lazily smirked as he placed a plate of your favourite dish in front of you before sitting on your side.

You happily ate while Taehyun watched you with a smile. You offered some of the food and used your own spoon to feed him. Your heart fluttered at how domestic you both looked like this.

After that, you both washed up and prepared to go to bed. You both cuddled under the sheets, basking in each other's warmth as you shared passionate kisses together.

But those kisses always escalated too quickly. Having Taehyun as your boyfriend, you must know how high his libido was.

You were already drifting off to sleep when you felt Taehyun's hand trailing down on your thighs and his kisses went lower to your neck. You softly gasped as he pinned you down on the bed, your eyes half-closed as you already felt high with just his kisses.

"Taehyun," You moaned when he sucked on the column of your neck before he pulled away.

He sat up and you watched with an open mouth as he took off his clothes, nearly drooling at the tempting body that you missed seeing. He smirked devilishly at your reaction.

"Cat got your tongue, eh?" He commented while gently pulling you to stand up. You loved it when he took command of your body, allowing him to undress you.

"Moments like this with you always gave me wild dreams." You pouted and he quickly leaned in to kiss you.

"I can make them wilder," He grinned as he unclasped your bra and playfully tossed you back on the king-sized bed.

"Ah! Kang Taehyun–" You were about to complain but he already had you under him. You gulped as he gave you that dark gaze, it always had been a signal to tell you that he's gonna fuck you into oblivion.

"Let's put that mouth of yours into good use." He said.

"I wanna suck you off," You bravely replied.

Taehyun chuckled sexily. "No, baby. Tonight is all about you."

You were about to complain again but you turned wordless when Taehyun tapped his fingers on your bottom lip. You quickly cave in and opened your mouth wide as he dipped his index finger and middle finger in your mouth, coating them with your saliva.

You hummed in pleasure as you sucked his fingers while looking up at him with sultry eyes. You knew damn well how to arouse your own boyfriend even more.

"Fuck, you're so pretty that I wanna ruin you down there." He whispered and you instinctively moaned at that, just in time as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

You waited for that feeling, hands clasping Taehyun's biceps. Your eyes widened and your back arched as he rimmed you and quickly pushed in. He grinned, loving your reaction as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, the pace was already sending you to the edge.

You felt your own wetness making the slide of his fingers go smooth and your mouth hung open in pleasure. He thrusted them faster and you could feel his knuckles burying on your entrance as his long fingers found your spot.

"Ahh!" You moaned out loud, signalling him that you're near.

You whimpered and he leaned down to kiss your chest, slightly distracting you. "Come on, baby." He whispered and you rolled your hips against his fingers, meeting every push.

"Fuck!" You finally released, missing the feeling so much.

"Very good, Ms. Secretary," Taehyun chuckled and you swiftly hit his chest.

"Just fuck me already, please." You whined and Taehyun snorted but obliged anyway. He used your own cum to lubricate his shaft, your eyes widening again at how hard he was.

"Spread your legs wide for me, babe." He commanded while positioning himself on your entrance. You did as told and your hole that was still dripping, made Taehyun lick his lips as he hovered over you.

His elbows were bracketing on each side of your head, feeling the warmth from his body enveloping you. He slowly pushed in, but all at once. You moaned in bliss, feeling how his massive cock stretched you wide.

Taehyun groaned as he started thrusting in and out. His pace went from gradual to very fast, shocking you at the abrupt change of speed.

"Wait- ah! Fuck, babe!" You rambled as you threw your head against the pillows, watching him with half-lidded eyes as he created a distance, fucking you while he sat. His knees were digging into the mattress as he gripped and pinned you into place by holding your hips down.

He muttered curses as he looked down at how your breasts were bouncing along with the hard thrusts he did, making him even hornier. His skin was slapping against yours as he pistoned deep inside you, burying his cock to your sweet spot before suddenly pulling out.

You looked up, about to ask him what's wrong, but he quickly slammed his cock back in, surprising the fuck out of you. The squelching noise of your fluid made you blush as he gave you short and quick pumps, making your entire body jolt on the bed. His cock was throbbing hard as he moved his hips around, filling your entire hole.

You softly moaned, feeling the build up in your stomach. Taehyun thrusted more and you messily pulled him down to catch his lips with yours and he gladly gave in. Your moans were muffled as he locked your tongue with his.

He then pulled away, deepening his thrust as he dipped his head lower and clasped your breasts, making them perk up for him to suck.

"Babe," You cried out as he lapped onto your left breast, swirling his tongue around before sucking hard on your bud. You moaned at the thought that your boyfriend had the control of your entire body, his cock deep in your hole, his hands and lips marking you everywhere.

He moved on to your right breast, grazing his teeth against the nipple before sucking it. Your body arched up once again, asking for more and Taehyun quickly grabbed your other breast, massaging it with pleasure.

You were so near when he decided to combine everything and make you lose yourself under him. His lips locking with yours, muffling your whines once again, his big hands clasping your breasts, his stomach pressed against yours as he pounded into you, his cock twitching inside you due to sensitivity.

"Cum now, babe." He mumbled in between your kiss as he pulled out once again and mercilessly pushed hard and deep in you, breaking the knot as you came. You moaned his name out loud as he gently grinded into you. He came inside your hole, releasing what felt like cups of his cum. He had to push in again as he kept on cumming and you squealed in ecstasy.

You felt so slimy as you both made a mess on the sheets, chuckling to yourselves as you finally came down from your high.

"That was amazing," You gasped for dear air as Taehyun kissed your cheek.

"Round two?" He softly whispered and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"Please, Y/n?" He pouted, playfully thrusting his hips to remind you that he's still inside you. You yelped at that, chuckling nervously as you spoke, "For someone who has worked the entire day, you seem to be still energetic."

Your heart fluttered when you saw how Taehyun's cheeks were suddenly dusted in pink, "I just missed you so much. Wanna fuck you until dawn."

It was your turn to blush this time, knowing to yourself that you could make Taehyun horny any time of the day and crave for more.

You softly pecked his lips, smiling as you said. "Fuck me hard then."

Taehyun had a wide smile after hearing that, his natural fangs showing and before you could even reach up to kiss him again, you nearly screamed when he suddenly pulled out and flipped you on the bed.

"Since you charmed me again, how about I take you on a date tomorrow?"

"And how did I charm you, Sir? I haven't even seen you that much," You sulked.

"By simply being you," He smiled as he trailed kisses on your back. "And as for my absence, I'm sorry, baby. But I'll make it up to you."

"You can start now by actually fucking me until dawn, make me chase my breath, make it–"

You cut your own words when Taehyun slammed all the way in, his hips pressing against your ass. You moaned in shock, mouth hanging open as Taehyun grabbed you by the waist, his fingers squeezing your skin as he pulled you closer, making the distance between your body and his cock disappear.

You wanted to lean up and feel his toned chest against your back but Taehyun guided you down, pressing on the pillows. Your face was sideways as he gripped your hair, the position you're both currently in was making you lose your mind.

He pounded from the back, whispering how sexy and hot you were under him. Sweat trickled down and made both of your bodies glisten. You feel so wrecked as you moaned his name over and over again, tears flowed down from your eyes as he grabbed your hair.

You feel how sensitive you were as the knot started to form in your stomach once again. You screamed in pleasure as Taehyun pulled you close to him while he continued to fuck you from behind.

"Such a pretty face," He grunted as he wrapped an arm around your waist, his hand going up directly to play with your nipples. Your body arched perfectly for Taehyun to admire as he continued to feel every curve and inch of you.

"Maybe next time I can fuck you on your desk at work, yeah?" He whispered lowly, his hot breath fanning on your ear before he grabbed your hair again and made you face him.

"Fuck, yes! Yes!" You moaned loudly, mouth still hanging open as you rambled through the bliss and feeling of having Taehyun inside you.

"Okay, baby." He chuckled as he thrusted more, his free hand reaching around your thighs to rub down on your clit. You threw your head against Taehyun's shoulder at the pleasure, your eyes shut close as you let him manhandle you.

You pushed your ass against his pelvis, meeting every hard and skillful thrust he gave you. Your moans gradually turned into screams as you desperately held Taehyun's neck from behind.

"That's right, be a good girl and cum for me." He panted sexily as his thrusts turned sloppy but he managed to send you all over again to the edge of insanity, making you want nothing but that high that only Taehyun could give.

He felt your legs wobbling against the mattress and so he hurriedly slammed again. He thrusted hard, his skin slapping against yours and making them burn in red. You moaned as Taehyun clenched his hand on your breast, teased your clit, and came again deep inside you, popping strings of cum as he continued to thrust with good speed.

You came after him, squirting and adding a mess onto the sheets while some of it dribbled down your thighs. You kept your eyes closed as you sighed in relief, loving the feeling of aftersex as Taehyun guided your body to lay down with him.

You were still blissed out as you closed your eyes, letting Taehyun pamper you with soft kisses all over your face and wrapping around you for a warm hug. He gently pressed his lips on the new lovebites painting your smooth skin while tracing his fingertips on your hips.

"You're prettier with my marks," He stated before trailing his lips up to kiss your hair. You giggled in his arms as he pulled the duvet to cover both of your naked bodies.

"I love you." Taehyun whispered, pulling you closer to his chest. You could practically hear his heart beating loudly for you and so you swore to yourself that even if you're dating him behind closed doors, you'd still do your best to give him the love he truly deserved.

"I love you more." You replied whole-heartedly and you saw a pretty smile bloomed on Taehyun's face.

Soon, the both of you fell in slumber.

.・✥・゜・。.

note: thank you for reading! mafia boss!beomgyu coming up next!

#taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun hard thoughts #txt taehyun #taehyun hard hours #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt suggestive #taehyun suggestive #kang taehyun

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screamsinsilver · 14 days

Text

- on expiate

JT: the roughest song for me, as far as like, personal, 'cause i wrote that song directly about a personal relationship that I tried to blossom, that completely failed. I doubt she'll ever figure out that it's about her, I think. [laughs] thankfully. I think I kind of got lost in my emotions and what I thought was real wasn't, and I got really hurt 'cause of it. "my fictional friend, conducting me piece by piece/I feel your cold blank stare cast on me" and that-

jesse: [laughs]

JT: what?

jesse: I thought that song- whenever I first heard the lyric, I was like "this song about me?"

JT: oh, no! [laughs] I do remember that!

jesse: we were in the studio, like-

JT: yeah, we were kind of fighting, not really fighting, but like, at each others' throats at some points

jesse: just trying to get the best out of the record

- on unify (continued)

JT: I feel like, you were basically saying "hey, I get it, well, now that we are aware of this, own it and do a second draft" and I was like "oh, yeah, okay"

jesse: I was happy about it. this is what happened:

JT: yeah it was kind of funny

jesse: we were at an airbnb and I was out on the rooftop, it's like a rooftop area, he was inside, and I was working on lyrics and he was working on lyrics, but we're working on them in the same Google documents folder, so if you have the Google documents app you can see that when someone else has access to it and are writing on it, you can see them writing and it says the name, and I'm watching him write these lyrics and I'm going [gestures looking at phone] "this is about today."

JT: [laughs]

jesse: and I didn't say anything to him, and I went and I like, walked over to this bakery across the street, and I got like, two pastries

JT: oh yeah, I remember that!

jesse: I got two cinnamon pastry things, and I just like got back to the airbnb

JT: I totally forgot about that!

jesse: and I was like "hey buddy, I got you a pastry"

JT: [laughs]

jesse: so I went and bought him a pastry and we're eating it and I just go "I know this song's about me" [laughs]

JT: [laughs] well, you're also really good at figuring- like not many people can do that with me, I don't know, something that you of all people, I think just because you're around me so much, you've seen my, like, spectrum, and he's also good at forcing me to talk about it, cus he's like, kind of had to be like the, emotional mediator for some things before

jesse: the lyric you were writing was "the howling voices looming close behind/reaching for a piece to steal away"

JT: yeah, that was the one

- jesse cash and jt cavey on the lyrics in expiate and unify (neon [2018])

#props to jt cus i could never be perceived like that #their co-front dynamic is unparalleled honestly strongest vocalist lineup ever #jesse cash #jt cavey #erra #this fight in neon walked so that the vocal/lyrical distribution in s/t and cure could fly without neon we wouldn't have those masterpieces

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quietwingsinthesky · 10 months

Note

your jo/dean/sam fic??👀👀👀

lmao yeah it took me a minute to find it in my wip folder because none of these fics have titles that make it easy on me (fun fact: it was sitting between one fic titled "oh my god" and another titled "choking your brother to death as an act of devotion" my wip folder is so normal)

ANYWAY. basic premise of this fic is that while I was watching s2 with my friend, I was thinking about her flirting with Dean, about how the original plan (Kripke's idea, i believe?) was for her to be their half-sister, and internally going "hey uh eric. hey eric. why was your idea directly after 'she's their sister' that 'she should want to fuck dean'" and then combine that with s2 having absolutely insane vibes around sam & dean, and i started putting together a little rewrite. nothing too fancy, just What If jo kept hunting with the boys, what if the three of them had insane sexual tension, what if she was secretly their half-sister. what if there is no escape from the winchester family curse no matter how much you try to hide from it.

it is also a fic i started for kinktober with the prompt of the day being "double penetration" asjdlaksjd. and then about 9000 words later i did not finish it in time.

i've tried to find a snippet that makes sense all on its own to share, but they're all very tied into each other, referencing lines from earlier parts and such. still! turns out i do have a little of the playthings part of the draft finished that mostly works standalone. just keep in mind this is very unfinished, try not to judge too harshly ^-^

He helps Sam into bed and watches him drunkenly snuggle into the mattress. Dean’s got the horrible urge to laugh because he knows just how shitty Sam will feel come morning and thinking about him whining over a hangover is better than lingering on Sam’s death wish. He won’t remember anything Dean said, that’s what he holds onto. He’ll be too busy vomiting his guts up to know what Dean just promised him.

Dean turns, and there’s Jo. He’s yanked violently out of his and Sam’s tiny world and into one where Jo’s brown eyes have witnessed every transgression this night. Dean wishes the worst of it was what he promised Sam, but he can still smell Sam’s breath as it beat against his face, his lips centimeters from Dean’s, dipping and swerving like he wanted as badly to kiss him as to run and never come back.

Jo is staring.

Dean goes on the offensive. It’s easiest.

“You let him get like this while we’re working?” he asks. Jo’s face ricochets through emotions, wide, confused eyes to her mouth twisting into a scowl to it falling open a little, head tipped into astonishment more than anything else.

“You think I could have stopped him?” There’s a slur to her words that Dean picks up on. She hears it, too, shakes her head. “I thought we were having fun. And then, I thought he was trying to prove he could drink me under the table. And then, he got...” She gestures at Sam. Sam snores, always so helpful. She looks between him and Dean. She meets Dean’s eyes, and then her gaze falls, in a way that should be familiar and instead leaves him nauseous, to his lips.

“Jo,” he says, “please.” He wants to say that he’s begging please don’t tell anyone else. But... cat’s out of the bag. There’s no way she can’t be putting the pieces together. He knows what he’s really asking. Please don’t look at this like it’s something ugly. Don’t look at Sam like he’s a monster. Don’t look at me like I ruined everything.

(And deep down, he’s crying out, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, I know you will one day but don’t let it be now, not for this.)

Jo’s gaze darts over to Sam again. She’s got her arms crossed.

“Please,” Dean says again.

“He was drunk,” she says, slowly. It’s almost like a way out. Pretend this never happened. Go back to normal. Only Dean can’t take that option either, not if she knows and she hasn’t run away screaming yet. Just one more person to bear this secret, and maybe it won’t be so heavy. (Jo doesn’t deserve to have to carry it, to have to hide it, but Dean is so tired of him and Sam being the only ones.)

She waits for him to take the out. He doesn’t.

“But that’s not why he was trying to stick his tongue in your mouth,” she finishes.

“He’s messy when he’s had too many.” Dean’s voice is too strained.

“You’re real fucked up, you know that?” Jo says. Dean expects it to come with a slamming door or something thrown at him. It doesn’t.

“I know,” he says. “We know.”

“Who else?”

“What?”

“Who else knows?” Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know.” Gordon’s eyes, narrowed and disgusted and murderous. “We don’t exactly give that info out freely.”

“Just me, then?” Dean could point out that he didn’t tell her either, that she eavesdropped on him and Sam’s private world. It doesn’t change anything, and besides, he’s telling her now, isn’t he? Can't help himself.

“It’s just you,” he confirms. “You gonna stand on a street corner and start shouting ‘Extra! Extra! The Winchesters are brotherfuckers!’” Jo grimaces.

"Don’t put words in my mouth. I'm not going to tell anyone," she says. “I’m not- Let me think.” She puts her hand to her forehead, grimace deepening, and then he hears her mutter, “Fuck.” He knows that tone very well. He’s said that exact word that exact way dozens of times. Jo stumbles as fast as she can into the bathroom. She manages to make it to the toilet before she starts retching. Dean moves without thinking twice, bending down next to her and gathering up her hair in his hands. He holds it out of her face and listens to her curse around the burn of stomach acid and alcohol in her throat. When she’s done, she slumps. Dean flushes for her.

He should probably back off. Let her go.

He strokes her back instead. He can just barely feel her heartbeat against his palm, reaching through muscle and skin and the thin fabric of her tank top to reassure him she’s still here.

#in terms of like. wincest-adjacent fic that i have written. this is definitely tilting more into the gothic horror side of things.#the 'this family is a tar pit and once you step in you can't get back out' kind. and jo went wading before she had any idea.#i mean there's quite literally a line that goes #'Truth is. him and Sam. they're a sinkhole. A gravity well. A rapid pair of dogs that infect whoever they bite.#and Jo was showing symptoms. There’s no cure that’ll work on her anymore.'#so that is the vibe. there are also cute parts like jo putting her feet up on the impala dashboard to annoy dean.#or her and sam passed out together and dean thinking that if he squints. she's almost like jess's ghost in his brother's arms.#because what's a little accidental incest horror without both the sexy bits and the fluff am i right.#jo/dean/sam #wincest #tw incest #ask #spn #fanfiction #jo harvelle #dean winchester #sam winchester #look away dev

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xandriagreat · 2 years

Text

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” “Still just… sitting on this couch...”

Author’s note: This is for @anotsomysticalnight (also beta read by me 😎 -Myst). To make sure that no one is confused with the past characters and the ones in the video, the video will refer to them by their names while their past versions are called their functions. Example: Past!Patton is Morality, and Past!Roman is Princey/Creativity.

Notice/warnings: Coma mentioned, Crying, Wine, censored cursing (because there’s cursing in the video), caps, Remus being Remus, Remus is a rat man, Janus is a sass queen, Virgil is a mood, and Thomas is a hot mess

▪▪▪

Thomas was up late, as was quickly becoming his usual, working on 'Taking on Anxiety with Lily Singh', the newest addition to the Sander Sides series he hoped would do well.

After Thomas saved his progress, he sent a quick message to Joan about finishing his part of the editing, and exited out of the software so he could, finally, rest for the day. He was about to close his file explorer, he noticed a new video saved in the drafts.

"What’s this? 'Have I Grown? - Five Years Later | A Sander Sides Special'… What?" Thomas exclaimed in confusion. His habit of talking aloud to himself persisted.

He... doesn't remember recording anything about a five year anniversary of the Sanders Sides series... because it only started a mere few months ago...

After a moment in which he sat, baffled beyond belief, he summoned Logic, Morality, and Princey to his side.

"Hey guys." He greeted the three, who were all looking concerned at the summoning.

"What's wrong? Where’s the danger?” Princey demanded, brandishing his samurai sword in determination. Thomas was going to ask why Princey has a samurai sword when he saw it but maybe now wasn’t the time.

Instead he swivelled the laptop towards them, giving them a chance to look at his folders. "Oh! Maybe it's an opportunity for an audition!" Princey exclaimed, already posing as though he was being photographed for a magazine.

"Or maybe it's an invitation-" Logic and Morality began, the chaotic excitement building before it was, of course, interrupted by Anxiety, who shot up behind them all with a loud voice echoing off the walls of Thomas’s living room.

"What if we're HACKED?!”

All four screamed at the intense cry. "Oh… Anxiety… It's you." Thomas said, frowning at the dark clad side that just disrupted his, relatively, peaceful day.

"What? I got a feeling of… anxiousness here. Decided to pop in, see what’s up, y’know?"

“No, I don’t know!” Princey squawked at him. “Why don’t you go grow mushrooms in some corner somewhere, huh, you no-fungus?”

“Nah. I'm good right now.”

Thomas sighed in defeat, resigned. “He can stay…”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Anxiety and Princey chorused. Logic looked at Thomas thoughtfully while Morality clapped excitedly at this development.

“He's going to stay for this and no one’s going to complain about it, alright?” Thomas shot a warning look that broke no argument.

“What exactly is ‘this’ anyway?” Anxiety asked, trying to look above everyone's heads to get a look. Thomas shrugged, nudging the laptop closer to his sides in answer.

"Is this a new video that you're planning to upload?" Logic asked, looking at Thomas and pointing at the laptop.

Thomas shook his head.

"I just saw it in my drafts."

Princey shot Anxiety an ‘I don't believe this’ look while this was happening.

“Well, let's see what it’s all about then.” Princey announced, plopping down next to Thomas on the couch. Logic nodded in agreement with this course of action, and sat down on the other side of Creativity. “Oh boy this sounds like fun!” Morality squealed at the bonding opportunity, skipping over and sitting down next to Thomas on the youtuber’s right.

Anxiety debated on whether to sit down and join the group, or flee to the safety of his ‘room’. After a solid minute of this, Morality chimed in, “Come on, Anxiety.” The Dad patted the seat beside him, smiling at the emo while everyone else looked at the parental side in various states of confusion, disgust and apprehension. Anxiety, slowly and cautiously, walked over to them and sat down next to Morality, the only one who seemed to want him there.

“Are we ready?” Thomas asked, looking at his sides. All four of the sides nodded, some more enthusiastic than others.

Thomas smiled and pressed play on the video.

It started out with a pitch black screen, a set of white text stood out amidst the darkness. It read: ´Stay Tuned til the End For a Trailer Of a New Series…´

The scene cut to Thomas, waking up from his phone alarm in a manner identical to his first video. This detail was not lost on the bewildered audience. “AH! Youtube time!” Thomas on the screen said, grabbing his phone off the side table. “I've been asleep for… Five years?!”

Thomas looked at the sides in confusion at the sudden change. Aside from the initial announcement, it had seemed to be his first video.

Anxiety sat, tense as a guitar string, as Logic pulled out his phone with a critical eye. “It's still 2016.”

“Wait…” the video Thomas said, turning to the camera with distress.

“What if, in that very first Sanders Sides episode I went to sleep, and never woke up? Have all my memories with the sides these past five years… been a dream?”

Thomas rocked back, unnerved at this potential revelation. All, except Logic, began to fret. “What if I'm in a coma right now!” Thomas cried, panicked. “And I'm still stuck!”

“Probably!” Anxiety yelled, barely keeping a handle on his tempest tongue. “Maybe that's why you said that in the video!”

Princey and Mortality screamed, ringing Logic’s ears.

Then, after a harrowing, tense moment of silence, Video Thomas smiles cheekily.

“Naah! But that would be wild, right?”

The group collectively relaxed at that, glad that Thomas was not in a coma. Anxiety taking an extra second to work through his breathing exercises before they all turned their focus back to the screen. Mortality checked on Anxiety, ensuring he’s fully okay, before chuckling at this on-screen Thomas’s antics.

It would seem that five years hadn’t changed Thomas that much.

The intro was... different. Each side flashed briefly on the screen. There was Princey, handsome as ever, with the word ‘Creativity’ beneath to explain his role. A title which changed too fast for any of them to process before being replaced with Logic, then Morality, then... Anxiety, who appeared, smiling, and dressed in... purple?

Thomas pauses it as the Sides talk amongst themselves. Princey looked at the designs in amazement. "These look incredible!" he exclaimed. “Why, my shoulders look so boring in comparison!” Morality eyed the Disney prince for a brief second.

“Your shoulders look great! How dare you say otherwise!” The father figure asserted passionately, defending his princely son even against his own observation.

Logic, for his part, considered his current attire. “I have to say I do like the different colours that Morality and I are wearing in this video. The darker blue is very… sophisticated on me.”

Anxiety’s face lost its already pale pallor, turning gaunt. “How’d they know purple’s my colour?” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Princey raised an eyebrow at Anxiety, mistrustful as ever. “Hmmm, you’re still oh so ‘mysterious’, aren’t you?”

Anxiety scowled at the creative trait, hating that his words still hurt. “And you’re still a dramatic drama-in-distress, but you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

Princey reared back in offence, but before a fight could break out, Morality and Logic planted their hands on each side’s shoulder, holding them firmly in their seats.

“I suggest that we continue before there is risk of an… incident, Thomas.” Logic said. Morality nodded in agreement.

Thomas, for his part, was more than happy to move on as his Logic suggested, reaching for the keyboard in silence.

Thomas tapped ‘play’ once more, and the four circles on screen, each of his sides on display, began to combine, morphing together to present Thomas, clad in his Steven Universe shirt and smiling into the camera.

Thomas noticed the blue background actually featured different symbols, all gliding across the screen, and wondered why they were there. Finally, as Thomas’s circle disappeared, the title slid into place: “Sanders Sides”

Thomas is very impressed by this introduction to the video. Why hadn’t he, Talyn, and Joan considered an intro like this before? Well, he supposed they would in the future. Within the next five years, at most.

"What is up everybody?!" the video edition of Thomas exclaimed excitedly, with an ever-familiar grin on his face.

Thomas noticed Morality, sat to his right, waving energetically at the screen as though the recording could see him. The host chuckled at his Morality's antics and continued to watch.

“We have recently rounded the corner of making these Sanders Sides videos, for five years!”

Logic, Princey, and Thomas sat to attention. "Oh!" The three had an epiphany of what's going on, while Morality and Anxiety looked confused between the others, completely out of the loop. Logic decided to take pity on the two, and explained,

"This video is clearly from the future, though how a piece of digital media travelled through spacetime eludes me at present." Morality and Anxiety blinked as comprehension dawned.

“Ooooh!”

Once Thomas was sure all of his sides were on the same page, he hit play.

Video Thomas explains, genuine and earnest, that he's grateful about all the experiences he's had over the course of 5 years. His understanding of his Anxiety, and realising his capacity for Deceit.

Thomas locked his gaze on the side that appeared on the corner of the screen, he looked like a strange fusion of Thomas and a reptile, maybe a snake or lizard, and Thomas had barely a second to take in the stranger’s scales and hat before the image was gone. Video Thomas pressed on, mentioning something strange about a courtroom scene with footage in the corner playing of his sides, in suits, sitting in a wooden courthouse. Before Thomas had time to digest that, he continued to watch.

"-went to the mall! Don't underplay that, it was a big thing for me."

"What happens at the mall? Why’d I have to mention something mundane like going to a mall? I go there all the time!" Thomas asked in indignation, hastily pausing the video to look at his Sides, as though one of them would have an explanation. They shrugged amongst each other, equally as confused as their host and unable to provide an answer.

Logic fixed his glasses with dignity, straightening his tie as he gathered his thoughts, "Maybe you got exceedingly busy with work and other responsibilities, or your friends became unable to meet with you for whatever reason. Or you had gotten so sick that you had not been in a fit enough state to visit the store for a long while? But that is unlikely as you seem perfectly healthy in this video."

Thomas nodded, accepting that his sides didn’t know either, and after a moment unpaused the video.

"And, lord, we ate a lot of jam!" Video Thomas remarked as various clips of the sides, primarily Logic and Princey, stuffing their faces with jam appeared. “Not quite sure how that played such a huge part in this series, but it did!”

Logic grimaced at the sight of his future self being so… uncouth with consuming the jam, but added the spread to his mental ‘to-try’ list, right below Bullet Journaling. His future self couldn’t be entirely without consideration after all.

“And these talks have meant a lot to me, like, every facet of me.”

Thomas smiled at his Video counterpart’s words. His sides did mean a lot to him, after all.

“You know, in television five years is about that time that they would make one of those really self-indulgent interviews with the cast where they'd laugh and talk about their favourite moments on and off screen.” Video Thomas chuckled heartily.

Thomas nodded with his sides, knowing some amazing shows they have watched have pulled that type of stunt.

They all jumped, however, when Video Thomas turned. The angle of the scene changes with a sharp cut, altering Thomas’s outfit along with it.

“And that's exactly what we're gonna do.”

The group felt excited at what future Thomas was doing, leaning in eagerly to see what their future selves were like.

Video Thomas then turned around again, facing to the right, presumably talking to someone who sat off screen.

“Wow, we have sure had some wild times huh? And I know there are those out there that wanna know what your thoughts are on five years of Sanders' Sides!”

It then cut to Logic sat in front of some plain white blinds, clad in a professional looking indigo tie. The small image of a brain with glasses printed on his black polo shirt is stark white in contrast.

“It is hard to believe it’s been five years of these discussions, mainly due to the fact that we’ve only had a little over nine and a half hours on screen together; if you don’t count our interactions that are not considered canonical to the core series, but, even then. My Point is I don’t think we deserve this celebration. Cheers.”

“Well, he rambles just as much as our Logic does. Clearly not much changes there huh?” Princey quipped as Thomas paused the video to stare at the bespectacled side on screen. He looked at him and back at Logic. Then Thomas noticed some text on the bottom left corner of the screen.

‘Logan Sanders - Thomas’ Logic’

‘AKA Microsoft Nerd’

Thomas once again trailed his gaze over to Logic. “Logic? Why does this say ‘Logan Sanders’?“

Logic went speechless, jaw working soundlessly for a moment before finally finding his voice. “I-it’s my name.”

“Your what?!”

“My name. We all have names, Thomas.”

Thomas flickered his eyes between the others. Princey and Morality nodded, pensive.

“Our names are a private thing Thomas. We only give them when we feel you are ready…”

“Which I am SO not ready for.” Anxiety groaned. “Is this video gonna expose all our names? Oh my- no…” He was going into panic attack mode again. Morality comforts Anxiety and helps him calm down.

Thomas nodded, concerned. “Understandable. Should we stop watching then?”

“No!” All four yelled together, startling their host with their volume.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Thomas pressed play, also eager to see more.

It showed Morality with a different background. It was still the same white blinds, but they were adorned with a happy birthday banner hanging across the blades.

Morality has his same style, much like Logan did, only his cardigan had been traded for a grey hoodie with white paw prints visible on the sleeves. A white heart symbol, wearing glasses much like Logan’s symbol did, was etched into his blue shirt.

*TOOOOOOOT*

“PAPPY BIRTHDAY! Sanders’ Sides would be in kindergarten now! Oh my gosh, it would be going off to its first day of school, making its first friends, eating the chalk-! Oh, my gosh, I- guh- I'm making myself cry again!” The Fatherly side took a sip of Logan’s wine, only to spit it out nary a second later. “Oh gosh, who left this juice out?”

Thomas paused the video again to compare to Morality that he has now and to the video’s. Again, he noticed the text on the bottom left corner.

‘Patton Sanders - Thomas’ Morality & Heart’

‘AKA Pop Star’

“Morality? That's your name?”

Morality nodded and gave a chuckle filled with nervous energy. “Surprise?”

Thomas looked at him and smiled. “I like it. It fits you.”

Morality smiled big as Thomas pressed play to see what was next.

The next scene showed Princey, sitting before the same ‘Happy Birthday’ banner as Patton had been.

His prince outfit looked fancier, with golden accents and two shield symbols set proudly on his arms. He looked like a true prince charming.

“Hello, I'm Roman. Chronically single, I'm a Gemini, and I like long duels on the Beach-”

“Roman!”

“-I'm sorry, what is this again?”

Then the screen did the static of lost connection, startling the five viewers.

Princey, Roman, looked like he was having makeup applied to his cheeks.

“Alright, just be sure to get the best side of this best side, right? Haha, that one’s for the promos! Five years and we’re still going strong with the wordplay right fellas?” He started to laugh.

“Roman!”

The screen did the static of lost connection, again.

Now they saw a sobbing Princey on screen, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue.

*Sniff* “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I'm just, so woefully unprepared for this. Our anniversary! Thomas' viewers amazingly graced with five years... of me!!” he sniffed again, dabbing his nose with the tissue, before waving his hand dismissively. “...And the others, sure.”

Thomas paused the video again to compare the two Princes. He read the text on screen with less hesitation than before.

´Roman Sanders - Thomas´ Creativity, Ego & Passion´

´Aka Sir Sing-A-Lot´

“So Princey's name is Roman?” Thomas looked at Princey. The royal side nodded regally with a smirk.

Thomas smiled. “Huh, Roman. ‘Romance’. It suits you.”

The Prince gasped, happily and dramatically, as Thomas continued the video.

Anxiety was next. He was wearing a full on black hoodie, the familiar dark shade of the clothing was disrupted by the bright purple patches and white stitches all over the fabric. His eyeshadow, they all noticed, was much darker and thicker in the video compared to the present.

Video Anxiety held himself with a confidence that seemed almost alien to him, smiling at off-screen Thomas as he spoke casually.

“Hey yeah congrats guys, five years of putting up with me! It has felt... much longer than that! Mostly ‘coz I've had to deal with him too but, y'know I guess all that stormy weather got us to this miserable point, huh?”

Video Thomas eyed his Anxiety in concern, only for the scene to cut back to Anxiety, whose smile melted to a frown.

“Can I go?” The emo on the screen asked, desperate to escape the awkward atmosphere he’d just created.

Thomas paused the video to compare Anxiety to the video version, after cataloguing the differences he read bottom left text.

‘Virgil Sanders - Thomas’ Anxiety’

‘AKA My Chemically Imbalanced Romance’

Thomas looked at Anxiety. “That's your name? Virgil?”

Anxiety was hesitant, breathing deeply, but instead of panicking further he nodded. “It… it is…” the emo admitted, looking down. He knew, after seeing the others, that his name would come up whether he liked it or not, and he could only hope Thomas liked it.

Thomas started to smile at him, taking the emo by surprise. “It's... different, from the others, but I like that it’s different.”

Anxiety looked up at him, wide eyed at Thomas’ response. “Really? You do?”

Thomas nodded kindly, ignoring the stares he was getting from the other sides who sat watching the exchange. “Shall we continue?”

Anxiety nodded, wanting to move on from being in the spotlight.

The video resumed once more.

The next side shown was the strange fusion of Thomas and a reptile he’d only gotten a glimpse of earlier. He dressed with class, a fashion that wouldn’t be too out of place for the late 1800s or early 1900s era. His outfit was black with yellow buttons, a small black caplt draped on his shoulders, and a bowler hat sat on his head with charm.

When this new side spoke, his tone was dripping with sarcasm and irony.

“Mmmm, yes happy five years, five drama free years. It really is astounding how these little 'meetings of the mind' lead to clear, and concise conclusions that leave everyone so happy, and angst free-”

Thomas read the text on the bottom left hand corner to find out who this strange side is.

‘Janus Sanders - Thomas’ Deceit’

‘AKA Bannaconda’

“Janus?” Thomas mumbled as the video kept playing.

“Okay Janus!” Video Thomas interrupted. “I know that this is your thing, but this is a positive look back on how far we have come. So your recent appearances on screen have been… fun additions.” Video Thomas smiled awkwardly at his own words before asking, “Uuum… do you feel you’re-… jelling... with... the cast?” He spoke with halted familiarity. As though talking to Janus was a common occurrence for him, yet still unpracticed and new.

The scene cuts back to Janus. "Oh, yes! Let's see. There's my new bestie, Patton, who's so good at keeping you in check. I'm sure that you would be totally lost without a man child who ties a cat hoodie around his neck."

Then it cut to Patton pointing at Video Thomas who was offscreen. "Ah!" Patton chuckled, lowering his hand down. "Jan’ said that, huh? Oh, that jokester! He knows how easily cold my shoulders get. Call them my colders!"

Thomas looked at the Sides. All three were looking at Morality, who had his head tilted to the side. "I've never thought about calling him something like that." Morality frowned, struggling to reconcile that, in the future, Deceit was going to be someone he grew close to. Close enough for nicknames.

The video cut back to Janus. "And Logan… ah! You can totally see how he's your sense of reason. Especially when he makes mistakes."

Cut to Logan, who held a small full wine glass aloft as he responded. "Okay, it's just... very interesting that Janus would be so quick to bring up that point, when the odds of a mistake happening again are… infinitesimale. Eh?"

Logic hummed. "Infinitesimale." He spoke slowly, rolling his tongue around the word. "What mistake could I possibly be referring to ‘very big’?"

Morality opens his mouth to correct him, but the video continued before he had the chance.

Janus continued, "Roman… you know…" he sighed wistfully. "Despite our differences, I personally see ourselves in this lovely friendship, akin to me being the Voltaire to his Rousseau."

Roman jerked forward with an intense look at Video Thomas. "He said that about me?! I...I don't have enough information to decide how I feel about that…"

Princey looked confused. "Is that a compliment?" he asked, looking at the others. All four could only shrugged, equally as lost.

Janus smiles wistfully as he gives his thoughts on the fourth and final side. "And Virgil… well, there's not much to say there.” The serpentine side raised the same wineglass Logan had earlier, bringing it close to sip before halting the motion, looking thoughtful.

“Except I do so love the consistency of his make-up." The snake chuckled, dark and ominous, as he sipped the wine.

None of the group were surprised at this point when Virgil appeared on screen, looking red in the face and seething.

"That! Futher! Mucker!"

Thomas pauses the video and looks at the Sides. Anxiety looked confused and a bit upset. "Still not friends?" Anxiety whispered feebly. "What?" Logic asked, not able to make out what Anxiety had uttered. This drew the others' attention.

"Anxiety? What's wrong?" Thomas asked. Anxiety shot his host a look and frantically shook his head. When he answers, his voice is tense and defensive, "Nothing…"

"...Want to talk about it-?" Princey began, unsure if he should ask.

Anxiety shook his head in refusal before the creative side’s question could finish. "I'm not ready to tell any of you yet."

Morality looked at him, then the screen, and back to him. "Is it about Him?" He asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Anxiety pulled his hoodie up, trying to hide from the attention.

"Who?" Thomas frowned at the vagueness of his sides, wanting to know more.

"An ex-friend..." Anxiety mumbled. "That's all I'm gonna say."

Thomas nodded, knowing better than to push. "Okay." He said, and unpaused the video to prevent the others from pressing the subject.

The next thing that was on screen was shocking and unexpected. The screen was taken up by a black clad rear bouncing and wiggling inappropriately. A small green sword emblem was designed on it.

"Hey! Check it out, I'm Roman!" the side cackled. “Get my best side, am I right?”

"Oh. I can't believe this is how I'm finding out where your emblem is" Video Thomas sighed, pleading for strength. "Um, Remus? Can we sit correctly, buddy?"

The new side twizzled around to sit properly on the chair. He looked remarkably similar to Roman, only he was wearing a fancy black outfit as opposed to Roman’s pure white, and green sash across his torso instead of a red one. He also has a moustache and grey stripe in his hair. He certainly looked unique.

"Who says that there's a correct way to sit? Have you ever thought about that, man?" This new side, apparently named Remus said. Video Thomas was thinking of an answer and started "Remus-" but was interrupted by Remus saying, "Expand your f***ing mind, bro!"

Thomas paused the video, just to clear his mind and look at the bottom text.

‘Remus Sanders - Thomas’ Forbidden Creativity’

‘AKA The Duke’

"Remus? Forbidden Creativity?" Thomas reads. He looked at the sides "Who is Remus or Forbidden Creativity?"

"No one." Princey injected before Logic had a chance to answer, quick and tense. "He’s no one."

“He sure looks like someone…” Thomas said, looking at the screen. He didn't notice that Princey glared at Anxiety, like ‘You better not tell him’ look. Anxiety gave him an ‘I’m not going to’ look in response.

Logic sighed as he looked at Princey and Anxiety. “Remus is your ‘Forbidden Creativity’. He is, for lack of a better term, Princey´s twin.” Logic said, fixing his glasses. “Teach!” Princey and Anxiety yelled at Logic but the smart side didn't pay them any mind.

“Princey has a twin?” Thomas asked, wide eyed.

Logic nodded, pleased that Thomas was listening. “As a child, your creativity split in two as you began to understand what constitutes ‘good’ and ‘bad’, as taught by your parents, resulting in two different creativities.”

Thomas hummed, taking in this new information silently for a moment as he examined the moustached side on the screen.

“Is there a reason why that happened?” asked Thomas, getting interested. Logic shrugged. “It just happened, that's all we know.”

Thomas nodded, knowing that's as good as he was going to get. He pressed play on the video, curious about this ‘other Creativity’. This Duke.

Video Thomas sighed again. “Everyone has given their thoughts on the past five years of the series. Do you have any thoughts you'd like to add, he asked knowing he’d regret it?”

Remus nodded. “Oh, you mean the three episodes that I was in? Oh they were fine.” Remus replied. “Nothing like what’s coming up...”

“Uh, what?” Thomas and Video Thomas echoed at the same time.

“Oh honey!” Remus chuckled. A yellow gloved hand appeared onscreen with a squirt bottle, labelled ‘Anti Spoiler Spray’. It seemed to be Janus about to intervene. “You've got a big storm coming-!” Remus started to continue but was interrupted by the squirt bottle spraying a clear liquid onto him. "AH! SOAP!" Remus yelled in pain, wiping the substance off of his face. “Sheesh! You couldn’t just tell me to stop?! Kill a guy for being excited, why don't you?!” Remus’s grimace morphed into an unhinged grin. “Really, why don’t you?” He brandished a knife.

Thomas accidentally hit pause when he jumped and yelled, “Knife!”

Anxiety didn’t look as surprising or panicked as the others. “That’s a normal thing.” he said, his arms crossed. Everyone looked at him like he said something strange or said a dead language. “What? I’ve lived with him for years.”

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, concerned. Anxiety nodded and leaned back. “I’m good. We can continue if you guys want.”

Thomas nodded and hit play.

The next scene was Roman, who was reading a book titled 'What Voltaire Did to Rousseau'. "Mhm. Okay. Alright, so he was insulting me." Roman said, lowering his book. “That’s just, that, why- hmhmhmhm,” He chuckled without humour, "I hate that guy."

Patton came up on the screen, he seemed to be trying to think of something. "A favourite memory from the show? That-that is just so hard! There have been so! many! wonderful moments with everyone!” Patton gushed, grinning. “Sure, even Janus and I have been getting closer. The other day, he gave me half his sandwich!”

Janus appeared and said, “I mistook him for a garbage can...” He gave a guilty grimace.

Thomas paused the video to look at Morality with a raised eyebrow.

“If he’s saying that I ate a food that was just left out, that's something that I do.” Morality stated factually. “Even if it’s thrown at me.”

With nothing more to say to that, the video continued.

Logan appeared holding a larger wine glass. "Quite a lot has changed these past years. Not only with you learning about Janus's and Remus's existence but also in how we conduct our day to day. Some examples being us, generally, talking to each other more respectfully, and leaving behind past toxic behaviours."

Video Thomas nodded in agreement.

When the shot returned to Logan, he continued, "'Course there's still work to be done on that front. The talking may be there but the listening is another story." He ends his statement with a sip of his drink.

“I am listened to, right?” Logic asked worriedly, looking at Thomas.

The host nodded. “Sure you are.” Thomas smiled at him reassuringly.

Their heads turned back to the screen.

Remus was pouting as he mimicked, probably the fanders, "Oh boo hoo! The others used to be mean to each other!" He was quick to drop the act. "Do you know how bored I was before you decided to confront me?!" Remus exclaimed, pointing at himself. “All I did was walk around and look for stuff in your head to f*** with!”

Video Thomas just sighed with resignation, clearly used to or expecting Remus to behave like this.

Remus smirked as he told Video Thomas that he found a place called ‘Mind Palace’ while waiting for his turn to be confronted. Remus exclaimed, “Big echoey place! I can’t believe that you decided to ditch it after one episode! So wasteful!”

There was a clip on the side of a room. It was a big room that didn't have padding, so Remus’ claims that it echoed made sense.

Video Thomas Looked offended like he was going to say something back at him, but failed to find words to counter Remus’s claim before the scene cut to Janus.

“There actually was one amazing perk to not being in the spotlight for a while." Janus smirked mischievously. "Any time they all left to deal with a stubbed emotional toe, Remus and I had the opportunity to indulge ourselves in something truly devious." He put his finger tips together in a villainous pose, grinning menacingly.

Thomas paused with a frown, concerned. "Like… bad?" he asked the others. Logic, Princey, and Morality looked nervous as Anxiety sighed, repressing an unwanted smile, "Just watch."

The next scene showed two pairs of black shoes, one smart dress shoes with yellow socks, while the other wore black belted booties. Both were enthusiastically playing DDR.

Thomas and the Sides laughed loudly when they realised what they were seeing.

The two side’s game was halted when Patton’s disembodied voice cut in off screen, yelling “Heading back to my room for a sec guys, forgot my pants!” They ran off with harsh hisses of “Get out! Get out!”

“My DDR?!” Morality exclaimed. “And- my pants?”

The video cut to Patton. “That’s who was using my DDR?” He exclaimed, clearly shocked. "I thought it was a ghost!"

Morality was still in shock as well. “I thought so as well! And why didn’t I have pants on?” Morality asked, looking at the others. Everyone shrugged, lacking the context for that, and continued to watch.

Remus was on screen now and is looking towards the bottom corner, the area with text. “Oh hell yeah! You got my nickname down there?!” Remus yelled excitedly.

Thomas looked at where Remus was looking at.

‘Remus Sanders’

‘AKA Dukey’

“-like Princey!” Remus laughed and did a hand flick. “Classic!”

Thomas was confused by what he missed from what Remus said, but he continued to watch, not wanting to rewind and disrupt.

Roman was looking in the corner that displayed his name. “W-What is that?!” he shouted, enraged.

Thomas peered at what the on-screen Creativity was looking at.

‘Roman Sanders’

‘AKA Pissy’

“Pfft, That, uh, that was Remus.” Video Thomas said, trying and failing to hold in a laugh.

Roman looked mad as he seethed, “That, mother loving moustachioed mudbug!”

Roman regained his composure before addressing Video Thomas. “Excuse me a moment, I have to go healthily communicate my feelings with my brother!”

Roman brandished his sword and, in the process, broke the vase of flowers that was on the table with the back of the handle as he left.

Video Thomas gaped in shock. “O- Wha-”

Thomas was in shock along with the sides as he paused it. “I- What happened?” Thomas tried to process the events the video just showed.

“I’m not sure but I’m going to find my brother!” Princey announced, getting off his seat in preparation to leave. Morality and Logic grabbed their fellow side’s arms and forced him to sit back down, shooting him reprimanding looks.

Thomas looked worried at them while Anxiety was trying to stay calm. “Let’s keep watching.” Anxiety interjected. ‘Before something happens.’

The host nodded and hit play, drawing the others' attention.

Virgil appeared on screen. He had just finished thinking deep and said, “I'd say communication for me is uh, better. Totally 100% able to communicate my feelings now like a champ! No problemo!”

Video Thomas didn’t look remotely convinced by what Virgil was trying to sell. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Virgil’s expression changed to look like he was admitting something. "Th-uh, the abstract stuff helped a lot though, y'know? Like those puppets? Yea. Surprisingly didn't hate how those were used to handle an issue"

"Oh, yeah?" Video Thomas asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah."

Video Thomas leaned in, eager yet hesitant. “I was wondering… do you ever… still… ”

Virgil turns into a soft puppet form, a small felt figure, probably a sock, with two mismatched button eyes and black marker ink under the buttons. “Sometimes.”

Everyone had their jaws dropped as Thomas hit pause.

"Aw!" Morality exclaimed, putting hands over his mouth.

"How did you-?" Princey tried to get the words out.

"I don't know." Anxiety whispered, processing his future self’s behaviour.

"Can you all… do that?" Thomas asked, pointing at the puppet.

Logic shrugged. "Of course we can, we are figments of your imagination. Though we cannot take on those puppet forms yet. We cannot shift into something that doesn’t exist without due preparation."

Thomas hummed at the answer and pressed continue.

“I couldn’t find him!” Roman exclaimed, exasperated, as he reclaimed his seat. "Might have gone back to hiding in the walls." Whatever brother-based rant he’d been about to go on came to a halt when he peered down at the shattered remains of the red vase. Large glass pieces cleaned up and resting in a dustpan.

“...Who broke this vase?” Roman exclaimed, looking around to find who broke the vase that he himself had unknowingly broken.

“Hey! Nice callback-!” started Video Thomas as he smiled at him, but that was interrupted by Roman’s loud cutoff.

“DON’T use the word “Callback” around me!”

Video Thomas nodded with an understanding expression.

Thomas was very confused as he paused the video. The Sides were all just as baffled. “What happened?” he asked, worriedly.

“I have no clue.” Princey said, lips puckered as he tried to think of an explanation. “Bad audition maybe and still trying to get over it?”

“That could be it.” Logic said, nodding.

‘That would make sense.’ Thomas thought as he pressed play.

When Roman stopped being overly dramatic, he returned to himself and faced the camera.

“But since we’re on the topic of performing, ” Roman said. “One thing I would like to see more of. Songs!” Then Roman started to clap. “WE! NEED! MORE! MUSICAL NUMBERS!”

Roman did jazz hands as some clips of the music numbers showed up, which got Pincey excited. “Musical numbers!” He exclaimed happily.

"As a theatre kid-"

"Theater man. I'm an adult man."

"I feel musically constipated! I mean, you know how hard it is to talk about the last five years and not make a Jason Robert Brown reference?" Roman explained and then laughed. "That's for the fellow theatre kids out there!"

"The songs are fine." Virgil said as he appeared on screen. Then he smirked. "If you don't count the Twelve Days of Christmas rewrite."

Janus was looking at his glove covered nails before turning back to Video Thomas. "Oh, yes. The songs. The musical numbers that you all break into." Janus said. "Emphasis on you all, because I have been absent from every one. I couldn't be more happy about that." Despite his words, all five of them could tell how false they were.

Virgil smirked. "Ask Janus about our song ‘Lies’." He requested.

The next scene made Thomas and the Sides jump when they saw a red faced Janus on screen.

“IT WAS A SONG ABOUT LIES!” Janus yelled, his human side red of anger. Everyone jumped again as he continued to shout, “AND I WASN’T THERE FOR IT!”

Thomas pauses the video and everyone stares at the mad reptile character.

“Well, he looks upset.” Thomas said, surprised.

The emo was in shock. “I thought that he would be fine with it…”

“I thought that he was evil!” Creativity exclaimed. “He’s not…” Anxiety said. “He’s just not a good friend.”

Logic was about to ask Anxiety what he meant, but the dark side put up his hoodie and curled up into a ball. Clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Hmm! Well, I think we should move on.” Logic said.

Thomas nodded and pressed play, hoping that things wouldn't get worse.

Roman was on the screen. “Wai- hold on shut up, what did Virgil say about my Twelve Days Of Christmas rewrite?” Roman asked angrily. "This is about the Bubblegum Shrimp thing, isn't it? Look, the muse doesn't always come to visit." He explains. "I can't be expected to pump out metaphors and similes like some... simile making... thing!" Roman pointed at his mouth “SEE?!” before he continued, "The shrimp line was a last minute addition, and I have no clue where it came from!"

Remus looks like he just remembered something. “Oh yeah, I whispered that to him in his sleep.”

“Wait- WHAT!?” Princey shouts, pointing at the screen. “Is that how I got the Dark Side Of Disney?!”

Thomas looks over to him, “Oh! That sounds interesting.”

Roman waved his hands to cool himself. “I need to cool off!” Roman said, calming down a bit. “Switching topics! If this is our little ‘cast special’, shouldn’t we talk about the newest addition to our cast?”

"Newest addition?" Video Thomas asked.

“Thomas...” Roman whispered but then he got louder as he continued, "I'm talking about Nicooooooo~!!!!"

"Nico?" Thomas and the Sides jinxed, looking at each other. They looked back at the screen in hopes of an explanation.

"Oh gosh! Roman!" Video Thomas blushes hard, covering his face with his hands.

There were a few animated clips of a man with glasses alongside Video Thomas. A handsome man to be exact.

Thomas stares for a second, but he reminds himself that he’s already with someone.

Roman smiles at Video Thomas. "Ey, come on Thomas!" He exclaimed. "Hey, I know I'm getting along a little better with Scareamore, but he needs to let me speed things up a bit, alright? We should be on, like, a millionth base with Nico already!"

Virgil looked so done and confused. "Yea pff, a millionth base, ok what is that?" He asked, exasperated. "Space marriage officiated by Gandolf and ****ing Dumbledore?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Roman said, amazed and unexpected. “Wow! He got like, right on the money.”

“That’s true.” Princey said, surprised. He looked at Anxiety. “How did you know?”

Anxiety shrugged. “I have no clue,” he answered. “Really, I don’t.”

They looked back at the screen.

Patton looked like he remembered someone as he giggled. “Oh yeah, Nico!” Patton exclaimed then he trailed off. "He, he seems… nice… looking forward to getting to know him!"

"Why do I sound so unsure?" Morality asked. "And who IS this Nico?"

Thomas nodded, trying to remember if he knows a Nico.

He got nothing.

"Yeah. I don't know who this Nico is." Thomas said after a moment. "Also! I'm already with someone."

All the sides nodded.

Logan appears to be considering the new topic.

"I am intrigued to know what his interests may consist of.” Logan explained. "Maybe math, sports, Metal Viking- sorry! Viking Metal.”

“Isn’t that what Talyin enjoys?” Logic asked.

Thomas nodded. “They do enjoy that,” he said. “Maybe they showed us a song that they enjoy and we end up liking it.”

Logic hummed and nodded.

Virgil adjusted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "Okay. You know, can I be honest about something?" Virgil said, uncomfortable. "I know that we've all moved past it, but that time we were still pretending to be straight, and you all were flirting with a fake Valerie? Still haunts me..."

Thomas paused the video and looked at Anxiety.

“What, does Valerie make you uncomfortable?” Thomas asked, worriedly.

The emo shook his head. “No… it's just us not being…” Anxiety didn’t finish that sentence because everyone knew the answer.

Thomas noticed that Anxiety didn't like this topic.

“That’s understandable.” he said, pressing to continue.

They saw a clip of everyone talking, possibly flirting, to Valerie appears in the corner.

Video Thomas chuckled.

"Well, I think that I was going for more like a sexually ambiguous, uh, it wasn't that bad." Video Thomas said. He started to laugh but then stopped short at the lack of reaction from off screen. "...Right?"

Patton appears, grimacing in distaste.

Logan, who is holding a GIGANTIC wine glass, sighs. "Not our most feminist moment." He said before taking a sip.

"I thought about it every day." Virgil said, very tense.

"Okay well, we'll make better memories and we'll forget about it eventually, hopefully.” Video Thomas said.

Virgil shakes his head, clearly not believing Video Thomas.

Thomas hums and pauses the video to hear the others' response.

Logic and Morality are too uncomfortable to speak.

"Were they talking about the few Vines that we did with Valerie? Or will that be in the future?" Princey asked. "Because we’ve done a few Vines with girls before and didn’t Thomas date one-"

“PRINCEY! I’M GOING TO STOP YOU RIGHT THERE!” Anxiety shouted, his voice booming off the walls and causing everyone to jump. “IF YOU KEEP GOING, I’LL GET YOUR BROTHER’S MACE AND-!”

A soft saxophone playing a creepy tune interrupts him. All the sides’ eyes widen at the tune growing louder, louder, louder.

“I MEAN MORNING STAR!” Anxiety shouted over the tune. Then he cleared his throat, his voice going back to normal, “I mean your brother’s morning star, Princey.”

Then the saxophone playing the creepy tune faded away, which calmed the room as it left.

Princey smiled nervously and said, “I’ll not talk about it then.” He looked at Thomas. “May we continue, please?”

Thomas nodded and pressed play, ‘What just happened?’ he thought, concernedly.

Patton smiled and pointed offscreen at Video Thomas.

“If we are talking new memories, then maybe when you get a puppy? Like a real puppy? That will be my favourite moment!” Patton exclaimed happily.

A clip of Patton holding a puppy in his hoodie and Roman holding two of the adorable things pops up in the corner, both sides clearly happy to hold them.

The seated Patton looked like he’s on the verge of tears. “Ooh… I miss having a pet.”

It then cuts to Janus who is looking decidedly annoyed.

“Why does everyone care so much about what happened to Sacagawea the Hamster?!” Janus exclaimed angrily. Then he looked at the camera and said, “Folks, she’s gone. She mysteriously disappeared and no one has a clue where she went.”

Then he points at the top of his head with his left pointer finger and his other finger over his mouth. “Shh.”

Video Thomas looked at Janus and at his hat. “Are you implying that she’s under your hat?” he asked.

“No, I’m implying that you all use your brains.” Janus explained, still pointing at the top of his head. “She’s gone!” Then Janus tries not to smile.

Thomas started to notice something. “Wait, where is Sacagawea the Hamster?” Thomas asked, his eyes widened as he pressed pause. Anxiety smiled. “Should I go after Deceit and see if she’s under his hat?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe later.” Thomas said as he unpaused the video.

Video Thomas leaned back a bit as he said, “I know that we had a lot of successes in the past five years,” then he leaned forward, “but do you have any regrets?” Video Thomas almost slipped when he leaned too forward.

Virgil was looking up as he was thinking.

“Do I have any regrets? Hmm?” Virgil asked himself. Then he got a scroll out and let the bottom part out to show a LONG list. “Do you want me to go alphabetically or-”

Roman looked surprised.

“What? Me? Regret?” he asked, putting a hand on himself. Then he started to laugh but then stopped as he picked up a photo.

It was a wedding cake.

“I have one regret…” Roman said, putting a hand on the photo.

Video Thomas looked at the photo, confused.

“Wait, that doesn’t look like Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding.” Video Thomas said. “Did you print out a stock image?”

Everyone jumped when an angry Roman shouted, “You didn’t take any photos!” Then Roman points at the photo as he continues, “I needed something to look upon whilst I lament!”

“Is that the reason for the ‘Don’t use the call back’ thing?” Princey asked, confused. “A wedding?”

Everyone shrugged.

“Could be.” Logic replied. “We don’t know until it happens.”

Logan appeared onscreen.

“I do regret throwing that paper at puppet Roman.” Logan said after a moment.

A clip of Logan throwing a piece of paper at a puppet Roman and the puppet covered his eye that the paper hit.

“It was immature of me.” Logan continued, looking not so proud of himself.

The scene cuts back to Roman.

“Oh! I wish that I had thrown paper at Logan first!” Roman said excitedly. “That would have been sweet!”

Patton had a questionable look on his face.

“Regrets? Oh, I have a few,” Patton said, admitting, “like not sharing my feelings with the others, especially when I was sad.”

A clip of the sides in the living room but it was lighter and the clip of Patton, looking sad, at his spot, that showed bed curtains instead of white blinds.

“We could have had so many boys' nights.” Patton said, almost sad. Then he gasped, “With ice cream!”

Mortality nodded. “Yeah… That is true…” he said quietly. Anxiety looked at him and gave an awkward hug. Mortality smiled softly at him and hugged him back. “I’m okay, kiddo.” he reassured him.

They continued to watch after the hug.

Virgil was reading off of the list, “I also regret starting Logan off on that whole falsehood bit.”

A clip of Logan shouting, “FALSEHOOD!!!”

That made everyone jump.

Remus was drinking the ‘Anti Spoiler Spray’. When he was done, he was having an allergic reaction.

“Regrets?” he asked horsley, scratching at his neck fast.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked you that question,” Video Thomas said, “my bad.”

Then the screen cut back to Virgil, who was still reading off of the list.

Virgil started, “Also the-” then he started to gag but continued, “boiled carrots.”

A clip of Nico holding a fast food bag that has the name King Karrots and giving it to Video Thomas.

Maybe that’s how they will meet or it’s a date?

Patton appeared on the screen again. Excpt with the cardigan on his shoulders instead of the cat hoodie.

“Gosh, one huge regret I have is,” Patton started, but then his voice changed to the voice of Janus, “a lack of attention… to detail.”

Video Thomas was almost caught off guard.

“Oh, Janus!” Video Thomas said with a smile. “Don’t be so tough on yourself.”

Janus, who was still disguised as Patton, changed the cardigan to the cat hoodie on his shoulders.

“No, it’s alright.” Janus said reassuringly, a smile on his face. “I’ve grown.”

Video Thomas’ smile faded away as he said, “Oh… great…”

Anxiety pointing at the screen, smiling.

“I called it!” Anxiety shouted. “I knew that it was Deceit!”

Everyone looked at him. “What?” Anxiety asked. “I’ve known him for years too.”

Thomas nodded. “Okay.” he said.

Everyone was quiet as they looked back at the screen as the video continued.

Then it was Virgil's turn, who was still on the list.

"And lastly, yeah, yeah. Achieving consciousness." Virgil said, putting the scroll away. "That was a big one."

Everyone looked at Anxiety as he said, “It's a long story. Let’s just watch the video.”

Roman sighed.

“It’s amazing how much has changed in five years. I’d like to think that I’ve grown…” the prince on screen said, almost sounding sad. “It’s been nice getting to know each other better, at least. Like Patton… and Logan… and Virgil.” Roman sounded happier when he said Virgil’s name.

Patton looked like a proud dad.

“Virgil has come a long way.” the fatherly side said proudly, smiling. “I hope he knows how much we love him.”

Logan looked somewhat proud of Virgil.

“We couldn’t function without him,” the teacher on the screen said, "as we saw."

The next scene showed Logan yelling “Think fast!” and throwing a laptop at Video Thomas, who had a gray hoodie up and was unbothered by the hit. Patton and Roman were shocked by Video Thomas not being bothered with being hit. “That really hurt.” Video Thomas said, smiling.

“Can that happen?” Anxiety asked, surprised. “I guess it can.” Logic replied, sounding shocked.

'I guess Anxiety is good.' Thomas said, humming. 'And without Anxiety, I would be just chill that I wouldn't know what would hurt me or not. Like in the video.'

Virgil looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Oh. Gross.” the emo on the screen said. “I don’t know what I'm supposed to say to that," Then Virgil looked away as he continued, "I guess it's nice to know that they think they feel that way."

Thomas was taken back and looked at Anxiety.

The emo looked confused.

Thomas looked back at the screen when he heard Patton awning something.

“We’re like a big family!” Patton exclaimed happily and then he pointed at himself. "And I'm the dad! And Logan's the mom!"

Then Logan appeared on the screen with a wine bottle with glass on top of it. "Why am I the mom?" Logan asked confusedly. "What gender roles are we pushing here?"

Thomas noticed that there were words on the bottle. It reads "Finally a wine glass that fits my needs."

Then he hears Logic asking Morality, "Do you really see me as the mom?"

Morality explained, "You act like a mom who sometimes likes juice."

Virgil looked not convinced.

"I know they're probably thinking I'm like the son, but I'm not." Virgil said, pointing at Video Thomas. Then he points to the side. "I'll be the gay emo cousin."

Then Roman appeared, pointing at himself.

"I'll be the son!" Roman exclaimed. "The hotshot, whose dream is to be… a star…" Roman sounded sad at the end.

Thomas looked at the sides.

Princy had a sad face and Anxiety looked mortified.

“I’m not going to ask,” Thomas said, “because the looks on both of your faces say it all.”

Remus was shrugging as he said, "I feel like I'd be a fresh outta jail uncle."

Janus had a wine glass.

"And I'm the sassy aunt, who talks **** about everyone." He said before sipping his glass.

Thomas hummed as he pressed pause to hear what the side's commitments were going to be.

Anxiety hummed. "Deceit and Duke sound like them."

Everyone nodded.

Thomas pressed continue.

Video Thomas laughed for a moment. "I know this is a pretty intense question to ask," he started. Then he leaned forward with a serious look on his face. "What do you think will be next for us?"

Thomas and his Sides were on the edge of their seats as they watched the screen.

Logan had his arms crossed his chest. "You tell me."

Roman looked like it was a joke.

"We seal the deal with Nico and we live happily ever after." He said, laughing softly. "It's simple."

Patton had a lot on his mind.

"I think things are just going to keep getting better, right? " Patton said, looking at Video Thomas. "If we keep communicating."

Virgil shrugged and smiled a smug smile.

"Probably something that I'm going to hate." Virgil said openly.

"Oh, who's to say, heartbreak, betrayal." Janus said, listing the things that can happen. "You won't be bored, I can tell you that."

‘I don't know if I should be excited or worried.’ Thomas thought nervously.

Remus had a comforting and softer look.

"And I shall be learning to better receive acceptance and praise.” Remus said, sounding innocent.

That touched Thomas and his video self.

“Wow, Remus.” Video Thomas said, putting both hands over his heart. He was smiling at him like proud. “That sounds healthy and productive.”

“Thank you.” Remus said, nodding to him. But then the feeling of uncomfort and his voice changed back to his normal tone and said, “Excpt Acceptance and Praise are the names of my-”

An air horn blares loudly, causing Thomas and the others to scream. Thomas pressed pause and looked around to see what made the sound.

Anxiety was holding the air horn. “You don’t want to know, Sanders.” he said threatenly.

The host nodded slowly and pressed play.

For a moment, Remus was holding two things that were censored.

"Okay!" Video Thomas exclaimed, probably to stop Remus saying anymore.

Then he looked at the camera. "And that's my cue to wrap this up." he said, smiling before looking offscreen. "Thank you for talking with me, guys. I seriously don't know where I'd be without you."

Thomas felt happy from his future self saying those words.

"There's not much else to say except," Video Thomas continued, smiling and opened his arms out to the Sides, "Happy 5th anniversary!"

"Happy 5th anniversary!" The Sides on the screen exclaimed while Remus said something else.

All that Thomas heard that Remus said was "-ick surgeries!"

The others looked confused and looked at Remus as The dark creativity on screen asked, "What did everyone else say?"

"I guess I should not know, right?" Thomas chuckled confusedly.

The four sides nodded. “It’s best not to.” Anxiety said somewhat happily.

The camera was in front of Video Thomas, smiling big.

"So yeah, a special might look a little something like that!" Video Thomas explains. "A walk down memory lane, saturated with too many self-referential jokes and anecdotes that would surely ostracise any non-fan watching."

Thomas chuckled softly. He knew that not everyone would like the series but he wanted to share this series. He hoped that his Sides knew that too.

Video Thomas sighed, "But we really have gone through so many changes. I mean, heck, compare Logan's behaviour at the start of the series to now-" then he stopped himself. "Sorry, nope. Done with the self-referential anecdotes."

"Yeah. I'm wondering what happened to everyone." Logic said. He sounded concerned.

Everyone nodded.

"Well, we do change and learn." Thomas said softly.

Video Thomas continued, "I guess what it's got me thinking is how will they change in the years to come? How will they grow? How will I grow? How will any of us grow?" Video Thomas paused for a moment. "Of course there's no knowing how we're growing. All we can do is keep an open mind and open heart. And keep on checking in with ourselves.”

Thomas and the sides leaned in because of the expense of the pause.

Video Thomas smiled softly as he continued, "Because we still might not know if we know ourselves as well as we could."

That left an imprint in Thomas and the Sides. 'That’s good to know.' Thomas thought happily.

"Aw!" Morality cooed softly.

"He does have a point." Anxiety and Logic said union, pointing at the screen.

"We'll be ready for it!" Princey said, raising his sword. Logic moved his arm, so it didn't get cut.

Video Thomas smiled at the camera as he said, "Take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals!"

"Peace out!" Thomas said with Video Thomas. The Sides chuckled softly as he did that.

Thomas couldn't help himself, he just enjoys saying it.

The screen on the computer was black for a moment before it showed a sky full of stars appeared on screen along with a few words.

"Would you like to escape to a wonderful world?" An announcer, who almost sounded like Roman, said, reading the words on screen.

Soft magical music played as an animation played and a boot appeared on screen. Then it shows a man in a red vest, who's probably being played by Thomas, walking through the woods.

"With heros, villains, and more to unfurl?"

It showed a different character with purple hair, who was NOT being played by Thomas, was singing a tune before looking at the character while the character looked back at him.

"Ridiculous battles and super cool magic. Perhaps dare I say something angsty and tragic?"

The two characters looked at each other and raised their swords.

"Prepare yourself for" the narrator said and paused supper effects.

Both characters were on top of a some sort of monster as they slay it with their swords. A burst of light flashed on screen when they slayed and the title appeared:

“Roleslaying with Roman”

The next shot showed a paper character of the red vest person on a board game. Then a 12-sided dice rolled on screen as the scene ended.

Princey gave a fangirl scream, making everyone in the room cover their own ears. “I get my own series!” he yelled excitedly.

“Yes… You do.” everyone said, staring at him in surprise. The Sides talked about what they saw. One of the things was, “I like the purple guy’s hair.”

Thomas couldn’t help but think about the purple hair character. ‘Why does that character remind me of Terrance?’

They all look back at the screen when Video Thomas, who was wearing a different shirt, popped up on screen.

“Hope that you all enjoyed that trailer, ‘cause I’m excited. ” Video Thomas said, smiling big. “I don’t know why I added that, but I was excited!” he laughed with some people offscreen.

The end card came up as Video Thomas continued, “And I hope that you enjoyed this video!” Then he talked about the writer’s room about the script of this with the jokes and stuff.

He asked if anyone was interested in joining the writer’s room to check it out at Patreon. He also mentions a calendar based on the Sander Sides.

A hand did pop up a few when Video Thomas said ‘hand’, which was funny.

Thomas and the sides were very confused about this Patreon thing.

“What is Patreon?” Thomas asked. The sides shrugged.

“Alright, that’s enough announcements.” Video Thomas said, happily. “I’ll let you go. Thank you again for every bit of support that you have provided these past five years. I love you all so much! I’ve said ‘goodbye’ enough. Bye”

Video Thomas sank out of screen.

Then he popped back up again and said, “and that last ‘goodbye’ doesn’t count.” and then he went back down again.

“Well, that was interesting.” Thomas chuckled softly.

The sides nodded. “Agreed.”

Thomas was about to close the laptop but stopped when he heard scary music being played from it.

He opened it back up again.

Thomas looked at the screen with the Sides as the screen showed an unremarkable orange sitting on the chair.

‘What-?’ Thomas thought confusedly but it was interrupted by Anxiety screaming.

And the next thing Thomas knew was that Anxiety was running from Princey, who had his sword out.

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!" Princey shouted at Anxiety while the emo ran, screaming more.

Mortality ran after them. Thomas was very confused as Logic continued to sit next to him, rubbing his forehead. "...I need a drink." Thomas and Logic bemoaned.

○

In the morning, Joan and Talyn walked into the apartment to find Thomas on the couch, passed out. They went to make sure that he's okay and not dead.

He's good and alive, but far from sober.

Joan and Talyn looked at each other. “You take him to his room and I look at the laptop to see if anything is messed up.” Talyn said quickly before Joan said anything. “Why me?” Joan asked, looking at them as they walked to the couch.

“Have you seen how BIG he is compared to me?” Talyn asked with some sass, picking up the laptop.

“Good point.” Joan replied, pointing at them. They picked Thomas up and started to get an arm around their shoulder. "I got you buddy." They said as they walked him up the stairs.

“More than four sides...” Thomas mumbled as they walked up the stairs. “For what? Sanders sides?” Joan asked, looking at him. Thomas nodded with a smile. “YEAH!” he shouted. Joan winched at that, which made Thomas frowned.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay, Thomas.” Joan reassured him as they got into Thomas’ room. Thomas listed some things for the show while Joan listened to him as they got him to bed.

Joan got Thomas to bed and went to get water and medicine for him. Joan puts the objects on the bedside table, Thomas smiles at them.

“You’re a good friend.” Thomas said before going to sleep.

Joan chuckled and smiled softly. ”You’re a good friend too.” they said, as they left the room.

Joan started to think about what Thomas said as they walked back to Talyn. ‘Maybe. We could do that.’ they thought, a smile growing on their face.

▪▪▪

Author's note: Happy Anniversary of Sanders Sides!

#where do you see yourself in five years?#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #c!thomas #joan stokes #Sanders sides fic

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tarrenterror25 · 1 year

Note

A rose for the lovely Tarren!! 🌹💌

Hey, Amalia! Hope you're having a lovely day! Thanks for the rose! 💖

Okay, I went digging through my personal folder and found 3 Alfred fics I started, but never got far with and one I don't even REMEMBER and the tags have ME like 👀 and I wrote them! They have less than 1k words so not much to pull from.

One is titled "House of Wayne" and was supposed to be an enemies to lovers (I know, I'm predictable). Reader weasels her way into Wayne Manor to get revenge on Bruce after finding out he's the Batman, believing him to be the cause of the flood and the downward spiral of their life. They bond with Alfred, develop feelings, very slow burn and lots of tension, no smut, but steamy.

The second one is similar, but is reader taking care of Alfred after he leaves the hospital and enter reluctant grumpy old man not taking care of himself and sweet soft reader helping make sure he recovers!

The third has the following tags: mention of blood, mention of gunshot wound, brief mention of near death reader, wounded reader, comfort, confined to a space, age gap and the summary just says something about being stuck in a room with Alfred 😂

Here is a snippet from chapter 1 of "Potential" my David Robey x F!Reader fic that is a long ways off from being published! This is still in the drafting stages!

There is one person you've been talking to for quite some time now. You open the message. Waiting_Watching: Good evening, beautiful Your heart is warm at the greeting. You've become enamored with these exchanges. FlowersForever: Likewise, handsome The person on the other end has never given you a name, but you know he's a guy based only on his word and a fairly blank profile on the site. Other than that, all you know is he's supposedly single and likes art. The two of you just talk; about your day at work, his day doing whatever he does (he's vague about his occupation). You make jokes, he compliments you, and you're just this smiling giddy mess in your chair staring at your computer. It goes on like this for awhile until there's an unexpected message. Waiting_Watching: Phone number? FlowersForever: Why? Waiting_Watching: I just like talking to you. Would love to finally hear your voice. You only have one picture up, the one for your profile and his is blank. There's the fear that you'll answer a call and it'll be some kind of creep and not the charming stranger you've been chatting with. FlowersForever: I don't even know what you look like Waiting_Watching: You will know soon

send me a rose

#thanks for asking 💖#ask game #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x reader #david robey #david robey x reader #potential

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supervillainarchaeologist · 2 months

Text

Unfinished Fic Problems...

Every now and again I look through my drafts folder on my laptop. At the height of my IW depression era I started writing a crossover fic where Loki somehow got transferred to another universe as the ship blew up, was magically revived on the way and ended up unconscious in the TARDIS with a hefty bruise on his neck. The Doctor who picked him up was Thirteen and my reasoning was basically "hey Tom and Jodie worked together years ago, this would be cute."

It's very much platonic fic btw. The whole premise was that they search for a way to get Loki back into his own universe and he would join the final battle there. They snipe at each other a bit but become sort of friends. But for the life of me I can't remember what I wanted for most of the middle of the story. I have them meeting, I have them finding a portal to send him home. I even have a scene where they read each other's minds and talk each other down from a ledge. There's an unfinished scene where they retrieve a map and Loki magically explodes a giant worm creature that's trying to eat them which means they have to go back to the TARDIS stinking of worm guts. Still don't know wtf else I was doing. Guess I'll never know! Hope it was cool. (Yeah I write a lot of fic but never publish it/never finish it therefore still never publish it...as you can see it's a huge problem for me.)

#unfinished fic #abandoned fic #loki (marvel)#marvel cinematic universe #thirteenth doctor #doctor who #just rambling #i'm terminally incapable of finishing fic

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 3 years

Note

Hey, can i have a Halloween request please?

Shanks reaction to (reader..?) dressed as sexy nurse or witch? Thanks! Nsfw ou sfw, i don't know what fits...

This got steamy fast, also two people requested this, Tumblr just ate one of the asks when I moved it to my drafts folder. Also I accidentally did both shanks and Benn.

Imagine Shanks and Benn seeing you in a sexy costume

Shanks: you look down (y/n), what's up?

You: I don't know which outfit to wear to the Halloween party tomorrow night.

Shanks: well remember you need to distract X Drake so we can raid his quarters for the SWORD papers.

You: I know... Would you help me pick, I figured if the costume is enough to make you blush then it'll just knock Drake out.

Shanks: you want me to pick?

You: yeah, when it comes to sex you're pretty unflappable. I don't think I've ever seen you even bat an eye at scantily clad women before.

Shanks: *sputtering* yeah, but but but I... Sure fine I guess.

Benn: *knows the captain has a crush on you* hey (y/n) can I help too?

You: yeah sure, that'd be great

In your room

You: I can't decide between the sexy nurse or the witch outfit. I'll try both on, okay?

Shanks: *sits on your bed and pouts* yeah okay

You: wait here I'll be back *goes into the bathroom to change*

Benn: *smirks at Shanks*

Shanks: you didn't come to help, you came to watch me squirm didn't you?

Benn: oh course I wouldn't miss it.

Shanks: you're the worst

Benn: I also came to see (y/n) dress sexy and all, but it's merely a perk.

You: *enters the room in the nurse outfit*

Benn: *whistles* damn Darling, you look nice.

Shanks: *jaw hanging open and can only hear ringing in his ears* you look great.

You: *giggles* yeah? Why don't you let me take your pulse *straddles his lap* all joking aside, I'm not sure about the thigh highs, my thigh pudge kinda over flows from it and well look *pinches the small roll of pudge coming out of the top of the sock*

Shanks: *clears his throat* that's the best part though

Benn: *trying to hold back his laughter when Shanks's voice cracks* guys like that sort of thing sweetheart.

You: really?

Shanks: *nods his head* it looks nice to sink my teeth into.

You: hmm, alright let me show you the other costume okay, I'll be right back. *Leaves*

Shanks: *flops down on your bed* fuck I'm so hard it almost hurts

Benn: *snorts* you really are whipped aren't you

Shanks: shut the hell up, I can see your hard on from here!

Benn: (y/n), the keyhole in the nurse costume really made your breasts look nice and plump by the way

You: *from the bathroom* then you're gonna like the witch costume, let me just finish putting it on.

Shanks: *hisses* you're the worst

Benn: hehe, I know

You: *exists the bathroom in a full length double slit off the shoulder witch's dress with a corset and thigh highs and a hat* well?

Shanks: *sits up only for his nose to violently spurt blood as soon as he sees you*

You: oh my gods, are you okay?

Benn: *cackling* I think this one is the winner!

Shanks: *trying not to bleed on your sheets and trying not to look at you* I'm so sorry little bird.

You: *giggles* well at least I know witch one to wear. *gives him a handful of tissue*

Shanks: *glares at you* that was a disgusting pun even for you. *Has another spurt of blood come out his nose soon as he looks at you*

You: if you do this every time you look at me then maybe I shouldn't wear it.

Benn: he just needs time to get used to seeing you in it. I think you should wear it for the rest of the night, and sit in his lap like you always do.

You: perhaps, if he still isn't used to it by tomorrow night, I'll go with the nurse costume.

Benn: if he's bleeding like that won't the blood be very visible on that white and pink costume?

You: good point witch costume it is, I guess. Captain, is there anyway I can help get you to respond to this costume differently? I'll do anything.

Shanks: *tugs you onto the bed and pins you underneath him*

You: *waits for Shanks to say something*

Benn: *shifts silently in his seat so his legs are spread and waits for the show to start*

Shanks: let me fuck you in it

You: how would that make it better?

Shanks: it'd make my erection go away, and seeing you in this costume would pale in comparison to seeing you jiggling around in it as you bounce desperately on my cock.

You: *your eyes flit questioningly to Benn*

Shanks: he stays

You: ... He can't join in?

Benn: oh, I like her thinking

Shanks: whatever you want princess

You: *swallows hard* I'd like both of you, if that's alright?

Shanks: *pulls off his shirt* you'll join us?

Benn: *already getting on the bed* naturally, where do you want me doll?

You: behind, I think.

Shanks: her cunt is mine though

You: I'd like you both there actually... At the same time.

Benn and Shanks: *lock eyes*

Shanks: fine, but you asked for this, little bird, remember that tomorrow morning.

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hareharrison · 3 years

Text

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest.

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?”

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

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swaps55 · 2 years

Note

do you have any aus for sam outside of mass effect, or outside the events of the game but still within the world? and if not are there any aus you could imagine for him?

AUs are a really interesting exercise, because they create the opportunity for a heck of a character study. So much of who Sam is, is directly shaped by the universe he exists in. If you take away that universe, what changes about Sam and what stays the same? If you take away space and put him in a cowboy hat, how does his character translate to this totally different world? Does he translate? So many pieces of him are intrinsically tied to the Mass Effect world.

I'm not terribly interested in exploring AUs in totally different settings, like a modern AU, western AU (@citadelsushi does such a magnificent job with that idea that my spin on it wouldn't be needed anyway!) , etc., mostly because the effort I think I'd need to put into it to really figure out how Sam fits somewhere else sounds very daunting, and not in a way I really want to take on.

HOWEVER.

I do have an AU sitting in a draft folder that plays with the multiverse concept and looks at a Mass Effect universe in which things go very differently. I played off of Kara Pendergrass' musings in Cantata, in which she asks Sam where he would be if he didn't wind up in the Alliance. He tells her that all roads lead to the Alliance for him, so to spite him, I started walking myself through the exercise of what would have to happen to get a version of Sam who doesn't join the Alliance - or at least doesn't stick with it - and what that would look like.

(and then I kindamaybesorta turned it into a Good Place kind of thing in which Sam and Kaidan find different versions of each other across literal universes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

It is a very recent experiment, and I don't know what, if anything, will come of it. Even if I pursue it, I'm honestly not sure if it's something I could even post before finishing Opus, because it's such a dramatically different look at Sam that I think would color the way people think of him in Opus in ways that I don't want.

But I'll give you a snippet, especially since @hexcore-juggler just tagged me for a WIP Wednesday!

Antiseptic hits Kaidan's nose when he wakes again. He inhales sharply, pain lancing through his abdomen.

“Easy,” a voice says to his right. “Take it slow.”

“Udina,” he gasps out. “It was Udina. The Council – god. I have to…”

He tries to sit up, but a firm hand keeps him down. “Whoa, hey, take it easy. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Kaidan laughs, bitter, verging on hysteric. “Nowhere’s safe. They have the Citadel. The Council’s dead. I have to talk to Admiral Hackett—”

“Hate to break it to you, but you aren’t going anywhere with a half-healed hole in your stomach, or the doc’ll shoot me.”

Kaidan blinks, that sense of wrongness returning tenfold, and looks towards the voice, focuses on the person using it. The face that looks back at him runs his blood cold.

“Sam.”

Shepard, god, it’s him, sits in a chair by his bed, with the same lopsided quirk of his lip that’s haunted Kaidan’s dreams for three years.

“I, uh, think you have me at a disadvantage. My name is Sam Shepard. And yours is…?”

Kaidan stares at him, a vise tightening around his heart. His voice, his face, his smile, is all straight from his memory, but it’s punctuated with wrongness, like a dream that feels right until you look at it head on. The biotic field he radiates is a warm hum through his nerves, but it’s the wrong hum. He wears a lab tech uniform instead of Alliance BDUs. Those eyes that hone in on a target like a directed energy weapon are just as bright as he remembers, but there’s no recognition in them.

“What the hell is this?” Kaidan breathes, recoiling, heart beating faster.

The gravity well flips in a way it hasn’t done since the morning Alchera destroyed everything, and a sound pools in Kaidan’s throat.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Shepard says gently. “What’s your name?”

#'shoot it again sam' shepard #snippet #this au got its teeth in my and would not let go #but boy it's just a haphazard collection of thoughts and scenes #i need to do a lot of work to turn it into a STORY #and i can't do that with fugue sitting there staring at me #but boy have i spent a LOT OF TIME thinking about it

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader V

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter V

Word Count: 7900+

[Chapter IV] [Chapter VI]

Summary: [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, unreality, drugs, war crimes

Notes: I had to revise this chapter a lot, the original draft and final turned out way different, but I’m satisfied with the results. Also posting a bit early since I might be too busy next week! I ran out of gifs to use for the header too.

[Y/N] “Bell” [L/N]

August, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Germany

The escape from Berlin was a success, albeit the minor inconvenience.

Right when you got back to the safehouse, you threw off everything on you to take a shower before heading off to sleep, mentally and physically exhausted. You would fill out your action report tomorrow whenever you woke up.

The intel Mason found was a bit lackluster, mainly consisting of a tiny vile of a peculiar gas and a few papers of names. You could see why he was a bit disappointed. Despite your initial speculation, Hudson seemed satisfied with the outcome, and the canister containing the substance was sent back to the U.S. for analysis.

It was remarkably chilly when you woke up. Your blanket was on the floor and the sheets, despite the cold, were sticking to your skin, and your limbs were heavy as you stood up and stretched. You felt a bit lethargic, swaying a bit as you walked out the door, but you brushed it off. Looking at your watch, it was around eight-thirty in the morning.

“Morning Bell,” Mason greets as you walk out to the main area. He was near the weapon wall, polishing up one of the rifles.

“Hey. How’s the head?”

“I’ll live. Oh yeah, Adler was looking for you."

You gave him a confused look. "Why?"

"Something about the evidence board. Wanted you to check the intel on the table."

"Of course he does."

You pulled out a stool from underneath the table, hauling it over to in front of the evidence board with the dossier in hand. In the end, your connection with Perseus was still being put to use, Adler and Hudson wanting you to scour the evidence for any potential connections or correlations they don't have insider knowledge on. If that’s what their use was for you, then so be it.

The folder, along with the board, was starting to get full with papers and polaroids. There were newspaper clippings here and there, yellow post-its with plausible theories written on them, red string connecting one thing to another. A picture of the tiny capsule the team retrieved was even on there.

You paused, eyes lingering on a photo of a younger Perseus. His hair was much darker than it was now, nor did he have the mustache. Next to it, a note with "Perseus on the move again?", as well as an iron-on patch of the group's symbol. Some files relating to Operation Greenlight were also plastered next to him.

There was the symbol. The colors were yellow, black and red. Something that you used to bear proudly on your arm. Perseus himself even gave a patch to you after you made the effort to prove yourself.

Shaking off the memories, you turn your attention back to the dossier. You meticulously took everything out and placed it neatly on the table. Examining the documents, there wasn't much to decrypt, since most of it was typed in plain words. There were a few names, none of which you recognized, but there was one that was blacked out.

[Feigenbaum, Wilhelm

Nikitin, Mefodiy

Kutznetsov, Oriel

Borga, Felipe]

Whoever scribbled the name out must have been in a hurry; they did a good job. You held it up to the light, seeing if you could read the original text through the ink, but to no avail.

However, you did notice that something did reveal itself. There was a collection of random icons at the bottom, although in code. Huge gaps were between each one, and the symbols themselves were miniscule, so you had to bring out a magnifier to read it. The text was written in a format you couldn't understand.

But the more you scrutinized it, comparing it to other commonly used codes, you came to recognize a few patterns.

They were the ones Perseus uses to relay information. You even wrote some in the format.

You held up more papers to the light, trying to see if there was anything else. There were only two other hidden messages, both spaced out in similar fashion: one on an old newspaper clipping and another on a piece of scrap paper that looked like someone's diary entry. Something noticeable was that the material of the three pieces were thinner than average.

"You're either going to go blind or fall off the chair if you keep doing that."

Removing the papers from your view, Lazar gleamed down at you.

"Don't jinx it now," you respond.

"Here."

He brings over a table lamp, plugging it into a nearby surge protector. You thank him, turning it on. It flashed brightly in your eye, and you could feel your headache tighten around the back of your head.

Lazar watches you work as you knit your brows in a concentrated fashion. It was a bit chilly in the safehouse today, and yet he could see little beads of sweat forming on your forehead. "You look a little pale, Bell."

"I'm fine."

Checking your suspicions, you gathered up the three papers, straightening them up on the table before hovering them over the lamp light. Sure enough, the codes at the bottom lined up perfectly.

"Can you hold this for me Lazar?" you ask.

"Can I?"

A long exhale. "May you hold this?"

He keeps the papers suspended in the air as you write down the code on a piece of paper. You then collect it from him, switching the order around before letting Lazar hold it in place.

"Okay, I think I got all of them."

He hands them back over. "How do you even understand these codes anyway?"

You shrug. "Lots of studying and pain."

Going to the computer, you access CIA records and look up the names from earlier. Interestingly, one of them was already deceased, being Felipe Borga. You wrote the info down on a nearby post-it before slapping it onto the paper. About to pin your findings to the board, you see the picture of young Perseus staring back at you again, his dark irises boring holes into your being.

"̶I̶'̶v̶e̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ f̶o̶r̶ s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ s̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ f̶o̶r̶ q̶u̶i̶t̶e̶ a̶ w̶h̶i̶l̶e̶ n̶o̶w̶.̶"̶

Adler had called him handsome, though you could never see it that way. While you never met Perseus when he was younger, that man was your superior, so to belittle his name with useless romantic descriptions felt like an insult. Despite working for the CIA, it was difficult to paint him in a different light other than your old boss. Looking at the brood expression only brought an unwanted sense of longing. You didn’t regret working with the CIA, but it served as a horrid reminder of your ties with Perseus, and the things you have done under the name.

As you recall your past, the throbbing pain from earlier felt like it was only getting worse, the pressure on your temples further tightening. Not only that, but the auditory hallucinations were joining in. It wasn't Adler, nor Park, Lazar, Woods or Mason who were speaking, but Perseus in the mother tongue. He sounded odd, voice deeper and warping; it felt like he was right there, standing next to you.

"̶I̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ t̶o̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶ u̶s̶.̶"̶

Whatever peace you had was short-lived.

I’m fine, you tried to assure yourself. Maybe you just needed a glass of water. Then, after that, you could work on the code.

You tried to move away from the board, hoping that the headache was just temporary, but each step felt like sandbags were strapped to your legs. The room felt unusually longer and wider than you remember, and the sunlight seeping through the windows were blinding. You were swaying and your vision was twirling around counter clockwise. Someone called out to you, but you couldn't figure out who.

“Fuck,” you heaved, leaning onto the wall for support. Your fingers dragged along the wall as you tried to make your way to the sink.

“T͌͝h́͝͝e̓̈́̈́ U͐̽̕n͒̈́͠ì̿͘ẗ́͝͝e͆̐͊d̈́͠ S͐̚͝t̾̒̕a͐̾t̾̓̈́e̽͋̚s͛̈́͋ à͋̾n͑̾̓d́̔͝ i̓̚̕ẗ́̽̀s̓͝͝ á̿̓l͑̐̈́l̐̾̈́i͒̒͝e̾̈́̈́s̀̕͝ s͊̓̐l̓̒͝o̐̽̽ẁ̐l̚̚y̓̓͐ c̀̚͝o͑̾́n̓̔̕s̈́̿͝u͒͑͝m̒͌̈́è̽̀ t͋͌͛h͋̚a͐̔t̀́ w̐̈́̚h́̒̿ì͑͠c̽́h̔͋͐ i͋͛̈́s͑͒̓ d̒̐e͑̓̓a̐̓͘r͛̓͊ t͆͊̒o̾̕̕ u͝͝s͐̓͊.̀͌͝”

There were papers in front of you. Volkov sitting on the left, and several other influential leaders at the table. Arash and his blue bomber jacket—

No, Arash is dead, you’re not in the Bunker—

“I̸͉̪̻̿̒̕t̴̫̠͔͛͋͝ i̸͓͍̔́͒s̵̪̘͛̒̾ ẗ̵̝͔̺́̈́͝h̴̡̠͚͑͝e̴͇͔͓͑̕͠ m̵̺̼̘̽͐o̴̢̘̽̓͋͜r̵͙͔̙͆̈́̿à̸͇͍̓͘ĺ̴̝̻͇̐̐ d̵̟̝̐͑͘ǘ̸̘̻̦̽̔ẗ̸͔͍̺́̓͝y̵͕͖͋͘͝ o̸̟͎͎͑̾f̵͇̞͓͒̿͐ P̵̢̘̝͆̓̀e̴͚͎͆̈́͐r̸̪̻̝͒̒͘s̸̡̟̦͛̈́̈́ë̴͚̺̼́̒u̴̻̻̞͋͌́s̸̞̞̘̈́̓͊ t̸̙͎̝̓͋́o̴̢͔̻͋̽ a̴͕̞͉͆͐͑ć̵͙͖̼̚t̵̢͕͉͐͐͝,̴̦̠͉͐͘ w̴͓̪͕̐̾̕h̵̙̙̫͘͝e̵̠̞̘̾̈́n̵͖̘̫͛͋ t̸͍̻̼̓̀̓h̴̘͉̟̒̀͊e̴̺̺͖̽̀y̸̡̞̺͑̀̕ w̸̙̻̻̒̓i̴͖̺͉͒̒͌l̴͉̦͕͠͝l̵͔̠̔̐̿ n̸̻̿̿͜͠ö̸̦̘́͑͋t̴̟͉̙̿́͊.̴̢̢͕̀̀͝”

The safehouse begins to fade out of your vision, and you collapse to your knees, covering your ears as your sense of time becomes lost. You tried to fight it off, but were thrown into a pit of memories that mixed with one another.

“Ḯ̵̦̻͚̒’̵̪̘͓̐͆͠v̵͖̙͖̔͊͊e̵̦͖̒͠͝ s̸̡͉̈́͐̚͜e̴̢̠͓̔̾̚e̴̟̟͇͛͌͝n̵͎͎͋͊̓ y̸̟͍͓̓͐o̴͍͛̈́̕͜u̵͔͓̠̒̓̚r̵̦̙͔͛͛͆ p̴̟͎͎͑̚͝i̴̡̡͍͊͊͊c̵̦͓̻̀͝t̵͇̺̼̐̓u̴̞͇̦̐̈́͋r̸͚͙͕̈́͐́e̴̫͚͇̽̀̐s̵̢͍̺̓̒̈́.̴͉̺̺͛̔ T̴͍̪̟͐̈́̓h̴͕͖̘͒̈́̔e̴̪̠̙͋̓̿y̸̡̘͋̈́͝ w̸͚̪̾̐e̸̦̦͕̓͑̽r̴̟̘͍̓͆̓e̸̟͙̓̿̓ l̸̼̠̝͊͝o̸̪̙͊͊͒o̴͙̻̞̐̈́͝k̵̠̠̦͌͊͌ḯ̴̡͕̙͑͐n̸̻̪͋͝͠g̵͉̻̺͒͒̾ f̸͇̦̘̾̀͐o̸̡͕̻̿̕͝r̴̻͇̫̐͒̐ y̴̪̦̓́͜͝ö̵͚̝͇́̕u̴̝͎͋͊͆.̴̡͚̔̚͜͝”

I'm not Perseus, you try to convince yourself. He's not here—

Even so, they kept resurfacing, even ones you never saw before. You shut your eyes; you didn’t want to remember, but it was involuntary.

Get out of my fucking head!

"̴͚͖̽̀͜͝Shit, B̴̡̪͑͑͑è̵͚͕̼͑͊l̵͎̦̦̈́̓͝l̴͔̫̀͜͝͝!̴͚͕͚̔̐̚"̵͔͖͓̔̈́̿

“R̵̘̺͇̒̿̒è̵̪̘̞́̾b̵͕̘͍͋͘̕i̸̢͍͓͑͘͝r̸͓̙͒̐͌t̵͖͍̝͊̈́h̴̢͎̟͐͐̕ I̴̼͇̝̽͛͠ś̴̠͖̘̚͠l̸͓͓͔͑͆a̵̡͚̘͐͛̓n̸͕̟̼̈́͛d̴̡̼̞̐̈́͌.̸͍͖͓͊́̚”

“Ḯ̴̢̞͔̓͝ t̴͍̻̪͐̿͠r̴̫̪̈́̈́̐͜u̴͕͙̪͛̚s̵͇͚͖͊͊̀t̸̪̫̪͑́͝ t̵͎̠̞͛͆͝h̴̠͔̿͐͠a̵͔͚̿͘͝t̸̙̞̠͒̽̽ y̸̠̪͝͝o̵͙͕̝̐̕u̴͖̟̾͌̈́ k̵͕͓͌́͌e̸̡͓͉̿̚͝e̴̘͚͉͑̈́̚p̵͓̙̝̈́͑̕ t̴̺̦̽̓̒͜h̸̘̺̘̀̒͘i̵̡͚̠̓̕s̴̫̼̼̔͝͠ a̴̺̝͔͌̾ s̴̡̠͙̽̚ë̸̟̘́͛͛͜c̸̡̙̙̈́͊̽r̸̪̻̪͐͋͊é̴͕̠͕͆͊t̴͇̞̫͐͋̾ f̴̻͉͇̀͋͠o̴̦̫͍͛̽̐r̸͇̝͖̾̀͒ n̸͖̠͊̕͝ò̴̟͇͙͛̈́w̸͓͙̝̿͊.̴̡̝͎̓͑̕”

Make it stop.

“Ö̵̦̘͕́͋͝u̵̫͕͓͐͠͝ŕ̵̪̝͊͝ n̴̢͖͓̽͝͝e̴̢͓͐͑͆w̸̼̠̙̓̿͒ c̵̪̞̐̔͛͜o̴̻̺̞̓̿͘m̸̡͍͓̐͋͋r̴̡̼̘̓̿͐a̵̝̦̓͆͜͠d̴͖̼̓͜͝͠e̴̡͎̝̐̔̔ ḧ̵͙͎̦́̈́͌a̴̟͓̦̔̈́̒s̵͇̫͚̔̐͘ a̵̦̟͇͒͊̽ p̵̡͉̻͌̒r̸̡̺͙͑͝o̵̘̼͚̽̓̽j̵͕͙͖̓̓͝e̵͉͎̦̔̈́͑c̸̪͔͑̐̐t̸͉͔͚͊̚ t̸͓͚̻̽̒̀h̵̻͎̟̓͋̓a̵͖̞͍̓̓̕t̸̝̺͑̿͜ w̵̞̟̙̽͆͝i̵̡̺͙͑̓́l̵̻͇̪̿̒́l̴͉͓̻̀̓͘ a̵̝̙͍͐́̀i̴̝͇͔͆̔̕d̴͉̼̙͐̐ ḯ̵̟͓̕͜n̸̞͍̘̓̒͘ o̴̺͔̘͊͊͊u̴̢̫͊͐͠r̵̘͔̀̾̓͜ g̵͖͙̕͘͜͝o̵̡͖̦̓͑͑a̸͉̻̐͊l̸̪͚̔͐͜͠ o̵̞͎̻͊͛̽f̴̢̺̠͒̈́̚ ǵ̵̟͖͍́͘r̸̻̘̺̔̚e̴̙̞̫̐͑a̸͚̼͙͒͆t̸̻͚̻̐͒e̴͚̦̓̒̚͜r̴͚̠̈́͒͒ p̸͓͉͖̓͝͝o̵̡͙͚͑̚̚w̴̡̠͛͑̚é̴͓̦̈́̓r̴͕͕͓̿̀͑.̵̠͖̘͊͠͝”

You couldn't breathe. It was like someone had pulled a bag over your head. What was he saying?

"̴͕̺͕͋̀͛W̴̢̡͕̽̽͋ḧ̸̻͔͙́̽͝á̴̺̟̼͘͝t̴͉͓͇̽͘͝'̴͓͔͉̒̾͠s̴̡̼̓͘ ẃ̸̺̟̙͐͑r̸͚̘͙̈́́͝ó̸͚̘͚́͝n̴̼͍͙͛̐͌g̴̟͔͘͘̕ w̵͓͚͕̽͊̿i̵̪͉͔̐̐̾t̵̙͍͇̾͛͘h̵͖̞̒͛͠ B̴̻͇̦̈́̿͝e̴̻͚̠̿̓͘l̸͚͛͌͜l̴͓͚͉͌́̚?̴̢̙͕̿̐́"̵̢̫̼̓̾̐

It hurts.

"̸̠͇̠̀̀͑A̸̢̼̘͆̔͝d̴̪͖̘̈́͌l̵̺͌̈́̚��̦e̴̻͖͋̓̈́͜r̸͕̪͖̒̐̚!̵̦͇͖̒̽̒"̴̘͎̝̐̒̓

“I̵̫̝̞̿͛̓ t̴͔̻͛͆͋r̵̻͇̘͛͑̚u̸̻̝͚͑̓͝s̴̼̫̒͌́͜t̸̢͓͉͐̓͝ t̵͎̟̀̾̿h̸̫͎͍͋́͘a̴̘̺̦̓͊̈́ẗ̸̡̺͎́̽͠ y̵̡͙͖̽͛̓o̴̢̡͖̒͛̽u̸͖̫̪̓̾͐ t̴̻͎̦͒͒w̸̼̠̓͛̾o̴̡͇̻͆̒͘ ẅ̴͚͚̞́̒͘i̵͉̺͍̒̿̚l̸͉̻̒̈́͊l̴̼͖̦͋̾̚ g̴̻̻̫̾̔e̴̻̟͐̔ẗ̵̝͉̫́͛ a̸͉͙̘͋́͌l̵͉̘̻̈́̈́͛ö̴̡͇̼́̔͊n̸͖̻͇̈́̈́̒ǵ̴̻͎͕̕.̸̝͉͔̿̾͝”

Something grabbed your arm abruptly. Your eyes snap back open, but you didn't dare to find out who it was. The only viable option was to stare at the cold concrete floor, but every scratch or imperfection embedded in it seemed to move on its own, forming letters from the Russian alphabet. Even the radio, which was dead, sprung back to life, reading the words to you.

"̴̼̻̼̀̐̚B̵͓͉̦̐͋e̴͖̞͖̓́̒l̴̢͇̐̀l̴̟̼͚̓͊͘!̴͖̪̠͊̚ I n̶e̶e̶d̶ y̶o̶u to listen to me."

Someone was talking to you. Whoever it was, they managed to peel one of your hands away. They held your arm firmly as you tried to stick your hand back in place.

"Go away!" you yell.

"Bell!" Adler said once again, calm and steady. You stiffened and stopped struggling as you recognized his voice, your eyes finally meeting his.

Adler noticed your eyes were glazed over. You were short of breath, hyperventilating. He never seen you in a state like this before.

Once he had your attention, he reached over, slowly, taking your other hand away from your face. They felt unnaturally warm. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and was met with beads of sweat and heat.

It was raining heavily last night on the mission, which would explain your feverish symptoms. It never occurred to him that the side-effect capabilities were determined by your health; you seemed fine before. Unless, you were just good at hiding it.

Your hands were shaking ever so slightly as he held onto your wrist. "Bell," Adler begins slowly. "Where are we right now?"

"The… safehouse."

A chime.

"Yes, that's right. We're going to get through this. You just need to listen to my voice, okay?"

You nod.

"I want you to take a deep breath. Everything else you see, and everything else you're hearing… They're not here. Perseus isn't here."

"We–."

"Perseus isn't here, Bell."

Adler’s words repeated constantly in your head. His eyes were a nice piercing blue, you’ve come to recognize. The scar was still quite a mystery to you, you never seen any wounds like it before, yet it looked… good on him. As you observed his face, analyzing each of his movements, Perseus’s ghost began to fade away from your mind.

It was ironic. The man that had the power to make you forcibly remember these things was now the same man who's trying to pull you out of them. All he had to do was speak. Your eyes move away from Adler’s face, knowing that you stared at him for too long, instead shifting your attention to a random spot on the wall. A strong urge to thank him was fighting against your internalized indignation against him.

Your breakdown caused the rest of the team to gather around you, clearly worried and concerned for your wellbeing. You couldn't bring yourself to look at any of them, feeling a tad disappointed towards yourself for being rendered incapable that easily. You were perfectly fine before, so what was different this time?

"You have a fever."

"I'm fine," you snap suddenly, ignoring Adler’s helping hand and standing up. You held up your arm, leaning against the wall to support your weight. "Just… give me a moment."

"You're sick Bell," Adler states, standing back up. "You can't work like that."

"I don’t need you to tell me what I can or can’t do.” Without waiting for any reaction or response, you were about to return to your desk, but someone blocked your way. "Move, Lazar."

"Sorry, Bell, but I'm with Adler on this one," he said with a concerned expression. "You look like Hell."

He was right. You were pale and extremely cold, yet you were sweating and your breath was warm. It was difficult to remain standing and your vision was crooked.

"The faster you recover, the faster you get back to work," Lazar attempts to convince. "Just rest for today."

You click your tongue. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you couldn't argue with Lazar. Giving a sigh of defeat, you turned around and headed to the back.

The team members shared a look of worry as you left. A door slammed from your direction, bringing down bits of dust from the vents.

"I'll go talk to Bell," Mason volunteers, breaking the silence. He was about to go down the hall, only for Adler to stick a hand out.

"Just leave them be."

"...You're fucking joking, right?" Woods jumps in. He gestures towards the spot you cowered at moments before. "You're just going to leave Bell alone after all that? Damn, you're way dumber than I thought."

"The best way to go about it is to wait for Bell to calm down. Then, you can talk."

"The best way is for you to talk to them, Adler," Lazar digresses. Even he was dumbfounded at his own thinking. It was probably the worst suggestion Lazar ever made, but his gut feeling told him that it was the best approach to tackle the thin line between you and Adler.

"Me? I think I'm the least suited for that."

"Yeah, the fuck? If anything, Mason or I should go."

"Look," Lazar reasons, "What I'm saying is that he can't avoid Bell forever. We all reconnected with them. Now, it's Adler's turn. He set everything into motion, he should be the one to fix it."

…

You slam the door close to your room, somehow affording to grab the Walkman off your desk before you fall onto the bed. The throbbing sensation never ceased, and you rub your eyes, trying to ease yourself into a sleeping mindset.

Everything had been working out so far since you arrived, and you thought you were getting to a point where the hallucinations wouldn't bother you anymore. It was an uphill battle to keep your mental and physical health in order while also having work to do. Every little thing became a chore, but you committed to them to get through the day. But, with the awful chance of getting a fever, they came back in your moment of vulnerability.

The music that served as your usual escape had no effect as your thoughts raced at breakneck speed. Perseus's voice was calling out to you, his words iced with a sweet, yet sickening, sense of pride as he talked. You knew it held some sort of importance but you couldn't figure out the context. Something about a new colleague.

Lingering on his words, you barely noticed the knock at your door.

Shit.

You forgot to lock it.

The door is held ajar by Adler as he takes a quick peek inside to see if you were there. You glimpse over, and he assumes eye contact with you.

"So it's your turn to talk to me now?" you scoff, averting your eyes back onto the ceiling.

"Let's not make this awkward Bell."

You turn down the volume of your music as Adler closes the door behind him, and sit up. "What do you want?"

"They suggested that I talk to you," he answers. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I had a choice."

"Good to know. What happened out there never occurred." You see a hint of white in his hand, only to recognize it as a pill container.

"It's a fever reducer with antihistamine. Helps you sleep."

"Don't get the wrong idea, Doc. Just because we're on talking terms now doesn't mean that I want your help. Especially with the fact that you used to drug me without my knowledge."

"We didn't have much choice, Bell." Adler set down the container on your desk before leaning against the door, arms crossed in scrutiny. "You're were our only connection to Perseus. Hudson wasn't too keen on you being on the team either, so that was one of the sure-safe methods to keep you in check."

You scoff. "That's all I am, huh? The CIAs connection to Perseus."

"Your decision in Solovetsky saved millions of lives."

"I saved plenty of lives, yeah. You called me a hero. And yet, apparently my own life wasn't worth keeping."

Adler gives out a groan. "Let's not start this now—"

"No!" you cut him off. You trudge over to him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Enough dancing around. We're going to talk about this, whether you like it or not. You came in here to talk, so let's talk."

"Stop acting like a fucking child," Adler scolds. “I came here to help you, not to argue.”

“I didn’t ask for help, especially from the likes f—”

"Well, you haven't exactly given me the chance to talk to you either!" he snaps, raising his voice and causing you to flinch. It was like walking through a minefield with you, so might as well set the entire damn thing off ahead of time and get to the point. "Whenever anyone tries to get closer to you, all you do is push them away. We want to help you Bell, but you always put up this arrogant, tough guy act and refuse to let anyone in because you're too scared of being hurt again–"

"Well I wonder whose fault that is?! You act like it's so easy to just get over the shit I've been through, but it's not. You have a lot of balls to walk in here like I'm just going to accept what happened without reasonable doubt, and I had enough of being used like some fucking chess piece! You never looked at me like your teammate, I was just another means to getting to Perseus for you. Did you really think treating me nicely would just make everything okay?!"

"Since when did I ever treat you like a chess piece?"

"Oh, you know very well when. You know how it feels, Adler?" You balled your hands into fists, your pent up anger finally reaching its boiling point. "To have your memories erased, and be forced to believe that the men you worked alongside with were the same people that were the ones that erased them? Or how they also subjected you to psychological torture and tried to reinvent you? I'm not a fucking toy!"

He didn't say anything. You were yelling at him at this point, and seeing a lack of reaction only made you more angry.

"It fucking hurts. I used to think 'there's nothing worse than this', but life continues to prove myself wrong. The damn bell that you trained me with, the injections to keep me in check… I even saw Park's notes, at least she cared for my health. But it only took her death for me to find out the truth. And then, when I think it's all over, I get fucking shot by you! Then I met these four old Soviet soldiers, they saved me. I spent months, believing that everyone thought I was dead. And then you took that all away."

You could feel the remains of your energy drain away as your voice began to strain itself and head throbbed. Your hands were grasping at his collar, pushing him against the door. You didn't even remember grabbing him, but let go and backed off.

"I-I thought I could live with it. But, they just keep coming back. You, sitting behind the glass pane, with a coffee and the microphone, a couple scientists watching... I think about the cliffside and… It's just been a nightmare I've been living in, and I'm fucking tired of it. You…”

You cut off, catching your breath.

“...Should have just gone for the head... "

You should have died.

Adler gives out a long exhale through his nose, unsure how to respond.

Of course he didn’t know how you felt. But what he did know was that he regretted every single thing he did to you. Maybe he did push too hard. They were necessary, sure, but if there was another way they could have gone about it, he would have taken it if he knew things were going to turn out this way. In the end, though, he had to use the cards he was dealt.

Coming to a decision, Adler takes a seat.

“Do you want to know what happened?” he comes to ask.

“...What?”

“You want to know why I did it?”

You sat, perplexed at his reaction. You practically yelled at him, and he still persisted in confiding the issue between you two. At the very least, you expected him to have a snarky reply, or attempt to convince you that it was for the greater good, but he seemed to already exhaust himself from any other excuses.

It felt like he was pleading for you to listen to his side of the story. His voice felt off, it was a tone you never heard him speak with. It was husky like always, but this time wasn't too harsh or too soft on you. He spoke in a way that wasn't demeaning, but instead made it easy to listen to.

No, you weren't going to let him do that.

Don't trust Adler.

"Because you fucking hate me, that's why," you hiss. "Orders first, that's what you're all about. Who cares what everyone else thinks, right? In the end, I was always your enemy. Was I a burden to you? Is that how it—"

"After Solovetsky," he interjects sternly, lighting up a cigarette. He takes a drag before continuing, looking at your disoriented yet pitiful expression. "I was instructed to erase anything that could potentially inform the general public about the nukes Hudson placed around the world. We may have stopped Perseus from detonating them, but they had to ensure that no one else could get a hold of the codes. And that included you.

"I didn't want to do it, Bell, trust me. But… orders were orders. You're right, they do come first. That's how we made it this far, by following them. Except, because of those orders, there's bad blood between us. You can hate me, Hudson, and Black all you want, but it's not going to change what happened.

"In the end, regardless of what you think about me, you're one of the best spies I worked with. Your skill set is one of the best I’ve seen, even surpassing the CIA's best cryptographers. Your attitude on the job is what we need, and one of the things that I admire about you."

You couldn't look at him while he told you this. It hurt, knowing that he finally said the things you've been dreading to hear. It was one of the things you weren't excited to listen to, but at the same time a part of you demanded for someone to tell you that you were needed. That you weren't just an object to be disposed of once fulfilled of its purpose.

"After all the things we did to you, nothing in the world could probably make up for it. You and I may haven't known each other for as long as I said we have, but we damn well went through a hell of a lot. Berlin, Lubyanka, all that shit. And following our little… fiasco on the cliffside, it made me realize how much your presence meant to the team, and what we had just lost. You kept it lively, helped keep our morales up. And most important of all…

"It made me realize how special of a person you are to me. So don't you fucking dare think for one second that you would be better off dead. Understand?"

You were at a loss.

Did Adler– Russell Adler just say the words you heard him say?

That you were special to him.

"We already lost you once, and we don't need a second time."

You couldn't formulate any words, and you just sat back down, letting it sink in.

"So, just... tell me what's going on, Bell."

It was easy to tell that he had been rehearsing this. That he struggled endlessly to find the right words to say without hurting your feelings any further. Adler may have not said "I'm sorry" directly, as expected. Nevertheless, you could still see and feel the meaning behind his words. There was regret as he spoke about the incident, but when he addressed yourself as a person, the way he enunciated it just made you feel warm and vulnerable. You didn't know it meant, and it confused you.

"I-I'm scared, alright?” you admit reluctantly. “Everything may be fine now, sure, but what if the day comes where I turn my gun on you? What if I lose myself? Or, or what if I just can't take it anymore–"

"Bell." You stop rambling. Adler took a puff of his cigarette, before exhaling. "That’s what we’re here for—”

"It's not that. It's here." You point to your head. "I can't even trust myself anymore. Earlier I started hearing Perseus. It was like he was there, but—" Your sigh in frustration. There was no good outcome when you thought of it. "Like, last night everything was fine. I was functioning like a normal human being. But now look at me, I can't think straight. One little look at the evidence board and I was on the floor. It won’t stop."

Something wet rolled down your cheek. Who the hell were you supposed to trust now?

"From prior experiences, both mine and others, in the end, it all comes back to you to make the decision as to whether or not you let those thoughts and feelings take over you." Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette on a tray before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Still, if you need to talk to someone, anyone, we're here. I'm here. It may not be our field of expertise, but it's the least we can do. Some things we have to live with, and it's hard, but in the end you'll get through it."

How long has it been since you cried? You weren't sure if it was due to Adler talking to you, or if it was due to your feverish state, but there was no denying the heartache that grasped at your chest. You sniffled and hiccupped, rubbing your eyes with your palms to stop yourself from crying.

Stop crying.

"Bell, look at me."

You despised him. How he made you feel this way, the way he spoke in such high regard about you.

"[Y/N]."

You didn't want to. The moment you look at him is the moment you confront those emotions. You couldn't hate him, no matter how hard you tried. He did all this shit, and yet you couldn't do it.

It was decided since that day you survived Adler's bullet that you would hate the man. To cut him off and anything related to him out of your life, but it was inevitable. Now here you were, bawling your eyes out in front of him after hearing his side of the story. You told yourself to not let him catch you in your moment of weakness, yet he had a way with his words. You may have vowed to never forgive him, but it was damn obvious that he whole-heartedly regretted his actions, and was trying his hardest to make up for it.

In addition, just hearing him say your name for the first time… It was unbearable.

Adler gets up from his chair, placing a hand gently on your wrist and pulling your hand away from your puffy eyes. The strange feeling returned. Oh, how his hair looked soft; you wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through them. You just felt weak under his gaze, as if he knew what you were thinking.

Fuck.

"Sorry… It's just…"

You couldn't look at him.

He lets go of your arm. "You’re going to be okay."

Scooting to the side, you gave him some space to sit down. Adler's eyes dart between you and the empty spot, unsure whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but goes with the flow in the end.

Your heart was basically pounding against your ribcage, and you were too tired to depict the difference between your feverish symptoms or pure shyness. It felt weird. Adler was showing a side of him you've never seen before, and yet you felt almost honored.

"Do you really mean it?" you ask. "Everything you said?"

"You tell me. Does this face look like that of a liar?"

You grin a little, indulging in his stiff sense of humor. "I can't tell with your glasses on."

"Then take them off."

You almost forgot to breathe. "...What?"

"You heard me."

Adler was devilishly close, making it even more tempting. It was an odd demand from him, and yet you couldn't help bring a hand up. It hovered in the air next to his cheek, pausing to gauge a reaction from him. He was adamant on letting you do the work. Getting nothing else, you ethereally take his sunglasses, revealing his deep blue eyes. The man didn't even recoil as you did so, and instead just watched your movements in captivation.

"Well?"

"I… can't tell."

You were too distracted.

"Well, I'm not lying," he states, voice hoarse, yet pleasing on the ears. His eyes never strayed away and were instead engaged with yours. "Want to know the truth? Crying doesn't suit you."

"You think so?"

Adler leans in a bit and tilts his head, as if to get a better angle of your face. "For sure."

Unable to withstand it, you break eye contact, feeling bubbles arising within the pits of your stomach. Somehow, the temperature of your cheeks rose even more. “Thanks, I-I guess.”

You feel the tips of his fingers splay lightly on your chin, and he makes you turn your head back to him.

“Wha—” you start, only to freeze.

The both of you were practically touching noses, breathing each other in. You could smell the cologne on him. It wasn't too strong, but it was enough to accent his character. Some part of you was practically just yearning for him to close the gap– daring him to. It felt like the devil was tempting you, but you withheld yourself.

"I'm kind of sick, you know…" you disclose breathily. "Should we be this close?"

"Don't worry about it."

Without warning, he moved slightly, and his lips met yours.

It felt like time had stopped.

But the butterflies continued to flutter.

The fans in the background slowed to nothingness, and the music from the player was but an afterthought as the earbuds fell out of your ear.

His lips were softer than you imagined, and there was a lingering taste of nicotine. They were warm as they brushed against your own, and you could feel the soft tickle of his breath. You wanted to open your eyes to get a better look at Adler's face, but in the end they refused to open, his lips distracting you. The way they fell against yours almost seemed unreal, like they were meant to lock with each other. You brought a hand up, caressing his face as you trace the scars on his face, running over the little bumps with your thumb. The kiss was slow, yet tender, and you felt warmth blossoming from your chest.

You didn't know how long it lasted.

When the time came, you both pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open, lingering on his lips for a moment before they left.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he murmurs into your ear with a small smile. The hairs on the back of your neck stood as you listened to the low timbre of his voice; God, his voice.

"Yeah."

You couldn't even think, your mental cogs just slowing down. Your brain short-circuited the moment you both locked lips. The bastard practically stole your breath away.

The opportunity arose and Adler couldn't resist. Was he allowed to feel like this, despite everything he's done? He didn't intend to kiss you when he first walked in your room. The plan was to talk it out with you, maybe figure out the boundaries between you and him, but in the end the line was crossed.

Adler jerks his head back as this dawns on him. "Sorry, I–"

Fuck, what did he just do?

It was just in the heat of the moment—

"Thank you,” you say feebly.

Your head was turned away from him, pursing your lips in a tight line to save yourself from exposing your flustered state. You could see that he was having difficulty coming to terms that you two did in fact share a kiss, and it was a bit cute to see him fumble with his words, as opposed to his usual stoic demeanor.

"For what?"

"Whatever that was."

You look at your fingers, remembering that they were the same ones that glided over Adler's scar. You could still feel the ghost of his stubble rubbing against your palms, the scene just playing over and over in your head.

"A kiss?"

"I-I mean, for putting up with my bullshit," you stammer at his outspokenness. "And for the Walkman and watch, of course."

Adler gives out a laugh at your flustering as he stands up. It was one you haven't heard. Actually, did he ever laugh before? You couldn't remember if he did, or if he ever even smiled. It was like you were with someone new. Who would have thought Adler had a soft side to him?

"How'd you figure it out?"

"Well, no one else seemed to recognize it…"

“I'm glad you like them."

Sensing that he probably overstayed, Adler gets up from his spot, heading in the direction of the door in a bit of a rush manner. Was he still stunned with what had just occurred?

He opens the pill bottle from earlier, popping one into his mouth before tossing the container to you. “Here. Take a couple.”

You did as he told, the bitterness of it caking your tongue before you downed some water. The euphoria was beginning to die down, and you could feel your body once again trying to drag you to the floor. Adler’s hand reached out for the door handle, and a pang of disappointment and fear crossed your mind. "Wait—”

He raises an eyebrow, slipping his shades back on. "What’s up?”

“You're going already?"

"Those papers aren't going to finish themselves. I need my best cryptographer at their best, so get some sleep."

He was still diligent, like always. You lick your lips, hesitant. You didn't want him to leave yet. "Can you stay for a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep?"

“You’re not a kid.”

“I know, but…”

Trying to sleep was always the hardest part.

"You better knock out quick then," Adler indulges, noticing your painstaking scowl.

He gets comfortable in the wooden chair near the door, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket as you settle back into bed. You could already smell the ashes coming from him.

"Do you ever stop smoking?" you interrupt as he takes out a lighter.

Adler let out an irritable sigh, closed the lighter, and shoved the stick back into its place. He leans back in the chair, arms crossed with his foot on a knee. "You used to smoke too, you know."

"I did?" This was news to you.

"Oh yeah. During your initial interrogation, you would just laugh at us." He chuckles. "Even asked for a cigarette a couple times. It was a bit unsettling, even for my standards. Not only that, you had a sharp tongue. Colorful vocabulary. That was another thing we couldn't exactly get rid of."

At your request, Adler continued to talk about his own experiences. The topic of MK-Ultra was something you thought would be taboo to talk about, but, on the contrary, it was rather amusing to hear things from his perspective. Of course, he didn't get into the details of the procedure, but instead remarked about your growth from it: how you recovered unusually quickly from Arash's attempt to take you out the picture, or how he found it surprising as to how well you got along with the other members.

"We pulled everything we had in records, just trying to figure out who you were. Our informants in the KGB couldn't find anything either, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack."

You hummed in acknowledgement. "They made sure there was no evidence of my existence when I joined Perseus. Personal history and sentimental values were nothing but a hindrance."

"Sounds rough."

The conversation went on for a while, and the worries you had faded away. He took the opportunity to point out your weird habits. Adler found it amusing how you would fall asleep in the weirdest places, catching you sleeping in the red room while waiting for photos to develop, or on the floor in the garage.

You could feel the medicine kicking in with each story, and you could barely keep your eyes open within an hour.

"And your scar?" you mumble drowsily.

"That's a story for another time."

"No, tell me what happened."

"Still curious as ever… Alright, have you ever been attacked by a tiger, [L/N]? Cause I have. It was a mission back in seventy-three—"

"Wait a minute, that's not what you told me last time. You said you got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

"Did I? Age must be catching up to me."

"Cut the crap. Earlier I poured my soul out to you, at least tell me how you actually got it."

It was a long story.

Too long, actually.

Adler kept talking and adding random details until you fell asleep. It was a novel laced with lies and exaggerated events, as if he were telling some kind of adventure you only see in movies. From skydiving to fighting a tiger barehanded, Adler certainly had the enjoyment of toying around and making up stories of his scar on a whim. He was a great talker without a doubt.

His voice soothed you to sleep.

When he noticed that you were out like a light, Adler walked over to you, feeling your cheek. Your lashes twitched slightly upon contact, but nothing else. Your breath felt warm as it blew against his palms, but at least your temperature was already stabilizing.

You were shivering a bit, so he shaved off his black leather jacket and placed it over you. Stirring, you pulled it over yourself before rolling over.

His heart jumped as he took in your facial features. Just to see your face in such a complacent state made him relieved.

How could he not like you? You're a hard worker, not easily deterred; if you set your mind to it, you got it done without fail, although you were witty and a bit short-tempered. There were still the demons you had to take care of, and he wanted to assist you in getting rid of them. He owed it to you.

After reassuring that you were dead asleep, Adler left you to slumber.

It felt like a huge weight was pulled off of his chest, a two year burden finally taking its leave.

0000

The sun was beginning to set by the time you woke up. Blinking your eyes reluctantly, a blueish grey darkness began to settle in your room. The sheets were wrapped comfortably around your body, and your nauseating headache settled to a mere tick. For once you managed to get more than eight hours of sleep without being interrupted by repeating nightmares.

You get up and stretched, only to feel something heavy slide off your shoulders and land onto the floor below. Bending down, you come to recognize it as Adler's jacket, and it reminded you of what occurred that morning. A blush crept up to your cheeks.

Burying your face in embarrassment, his jacket smelled of cigarettes and cologne, with hints of soap.

It didn't mean anything, right?

Yet, you had a hard time convincing yourself it was anything but.

Heading out of your room, you came across a new cassette tape on the table, labeled MIX 2. You chuckle in amusement at his lack of creativity, but pop it into the player, removing the first one and placing it down. What kind of songs did Adler have in store for you now? His taste in music didn't seem definitive, the songs never failed to impress you.

Wandered into the main area, you could smell something good wafering through the air, and made it just in time for Lazar to return with dinner.

"Lo and behold, Lazar back at it again with the Chinese food," you comment as he plops the bags down on the table.

"Hey, it's good. Got your favorite right here." He hands you a tray, along with a small bowl of soup.

"Fuck, I'm starving." Woods wanders over as well, sifting through the containers until he finds his. He took a fortune cookie out of the bag before finally noticing you. "Oh, look who's finally awake! Feeling better, Bell?"

"Yeah." You take out a seat from under the table and sit. "Do you know what happened to the folder I had this morning? It had the stuff I was going to work on—"

"I think Adler took care of it."

"He decrypted the code?" you muse.

"Well, no. He probably had Sims do it."

Mason comes over, a few beer cans in his arms. Woods gives out an impressed whistle, taking one for himself and cracking it open. He takes a good swig, before giving out a quenched sigh of approval. "Now, that's the shit."

You chuckle at his reaction. The beer brand was nothing special of sort, yet Woods seemed to treat it like a luxury. "Did something good happen?"

"You tell me, Bell. How'd the conversation with Adler go?"

You pause, stabbing a plastic fork in your food before taking a bite. "Good, I guess."

"Damn Bell, don't leave us in the dark here." Woods voices his disappointment. "Loosen up a bit, take a drink. We're all friends here."

"I don't drink," you inform curtly, detecting underlying intentions stemming from this conversation.

"Aren't Russians the number one consumer of alcohol?"

"I'm sick, Woods. I don't think drinking will help me at the moment."

"You hear that? Bell's sick," Mason reiterates with a wry smile.

"Lovesick, more like," Lazar adds.

You were about to take another bite, but instead placed the utensil down, giving Lazar a dirty look. "What'd you say?"

"Bingo!" Woods crushes a can in his hands, tossing it into a nearby bin. "Bell has a—"

"What the fuck?" You slam a hand on the table. "Is this what you guys wanted to talk about?!"

"Come on, Bell. Adler spent a while in your room earlier, I was starting to think you killed him after all the yelling.”

“You heard that?”

Mason nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kinda..."

You thought back to this morning, reminiscing on Adler’s words. And how it ended. “You guys really shouldn't stick your nose into things. Something bad might happen."

"What kind of stuff?” Woods pries, leaning in a bit.

You dry laugh nervously. “Who knows? I'll think about it."

“I think Bell’s getting a bit defensive, Mason.”

“I think so too.”

Lazar points his plastic fork at you. “It went well, didn't it? I knew it. Adler came back to the garage in a good mood."

“I think you should all choose your next words carefully,” you growl, trying to ignore your heart hammering against your chest.

You didn’t like Adler. You hate the man. He shot you on the cliff. He…

Gave you the Walkman. Lended you his jacket. Comforted you during your moments of weakness. Kissed you.

Well, shit.

You bury your face into your hands.

“Is Bell blushing? Bell's blushing!” Woods nudges you with his elbow.

"I'm SICK!"

"Keep making excuses Bell, they might come true."

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Sure, whatever you say," Mason grins.

“See, what did I tell you Mason? Pay up." Woods holds out a hand. His friend grumbles, remembering the bet he made, and pulls out his wallet.

“Nope!" you exclaim, snatching the five dollars out of Mason's hand. “Here's how it's going to work: this conversation never happened. If I hear even a sliver of anything related to this, you better pray that you wake up the next day. Got it?"

If looks could kill, the three of them would drop dead at this very moment.

“...Pucker up, Bell's boyfriend is coming over," Mason comments, before downing a glass of water.

"What the f—"

"[L/N]."

All eyes turn to Adler, who had just hung up on the phone after a discussion with Hudson. He had no problem looking at you, and maintained a decent distance, despite both of you just having a tender moment just a few hours earlier. Props to him, you suppose.

"You have a minute?" he asks.

You clear your throat, giving a glare to the trio before closing the lid to your dinner and heading over to Adler.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No," you assure. "You didn't."

“Anyways—" Adler hands you a thin file. "Hudson has something for you to do.”

“Again?”

Flipping through the contents, there was a transcript of a conversation between Belikov and the person of interest.

“He wants you to meet with someone. Apparently Belikov knows a guy who is willing to give us a tip. Only catch is he only wants someone to meet up with him, alone.”

You set the folder aside and cross your arms. “And why am I going?”

“Because you speak the same language?”

“But you speak Russian too.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, I’m kinda injured at the moment.” Adler gestures towards his abdomen. You roll your eyes.

"Hudson's been a bit keen on giving me missions," you point out, tucking the file under your arm. "When do I leave?"

"September, most likely."

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #and then it all goes downhill from here #abcd briefing

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

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 4 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: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

“Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power.

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid.

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back.

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained.

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand.

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce.

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered.

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild.

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight.

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were.

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha.

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough.

“Open it,” you said.

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing.

On the count of three, you both opened your presents.

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal.

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes.

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful.

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading.

‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement.

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you.

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story.

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s.

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said.

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face.

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box.

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle.

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect.

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face.

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built.

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back.

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth.

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly.

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for.

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was.

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own.

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified.

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked.

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea.

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose.

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace.

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen.

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming.

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns.

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked.

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static.

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex.

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist.

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep.

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing.

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look.

And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one.

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?”

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.”

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

“You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat.

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall.

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief.

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever.

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it.

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged.

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression.

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws.

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face.

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed.

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared.

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake.

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it.

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

“When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer.

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission.

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure.

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told-

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there.

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road.

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’.

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred.

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again.

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors. “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s.

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again.

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded.

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering.

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could.

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal.

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot.

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you.

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room.

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take.

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for.

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look.

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.”

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?”

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice.

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited.

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this.

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this.

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath.

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand.

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile.

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered.

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer.

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back.

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no.

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly.

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills.

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you.

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions.

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.”

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt.

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.”

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion.

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face.

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand.

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his.

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt.

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded.

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door.

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday. “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead.

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded.

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted.

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position.

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead.

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told.

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own.

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern.

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear.

The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy.

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it.

“You’re one damn good actor.”

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.”

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.”

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?”

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!”

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?”

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.”

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out.

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much.

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?”

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup.

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife.

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times.

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses.

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now.

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard.

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now.

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke.

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different.

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in.

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.”

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?”

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.”

The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place.

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was.

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up.

“I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?”

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.”

“Did you need-“

��When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified.

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn.

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally.

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you.

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back.

The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner.

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams.

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.”

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter.

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could.

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it.

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief.

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you.

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision.

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!”

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point.

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners.

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist.

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs.

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own.

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind.

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again.

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least. “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost.

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him.

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred.

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently.

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open.

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful.

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you.

His therapist would just listen.

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open.

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report.

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

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