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shihalyfie · 3 years

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A meta on Mimi and her character

Today’s spotlight character is Mimi! While the Adventure characters are all written to subvert character stereotypes (no, really), I feel this is particularly enhanced for Mimi, whose surface demeanor and the first impression you get from her suggest an almost opposite character to whom she actually is.

Disclaimer before we continue: While not to the same extent as Daisuke, Mimi’s disposition and personality have some significant differences in the American English dub compared to the original Japanese. As usual, this is not meant to be any particular comment about the dub’s changes, but simply that if you’ve only seen that dub, are reading this post, and are thinking “that doesn’t seem right?” that would probably be why.

Mimi’s family background and attitude prior to Adventure

Like with any of the other Adventure characters, understanding Mimi’s personality and why she acts the way she does is most easily done by starting with her family background.

We first meet Mimi’s family in Adventure episode 35.

There is a lot to unpack with only this scene alone, so let’s get started!

Mimi’s family is quite well-to-do. They’re not filthy rich or anything, but they’re well-to-do enough for Mimi’s father to work freelancer (he works in music). This means that Mimi grew up with a fairly “comfortable” life, probably getting pretty much anything she asked for -- in other words, she’s spoiled. It also explains why she’s actually pretty impeccably polite to everyone -- she adheres very firmly to honorifics when speaking to both elders and younger people, and never, ever speaks roughly or aggressively, because her parents have basically been raising her like a “lady of the house” (ojousama) or princess. (She does use casual-form Japanese, but she never lets up on the honorifics.)

They’re very open-minded. We learn in this episode that Mimi’s bizarre food tastes in liking natto on her eggs with sugar (from Adventure episode 6) most likely come from her mother, Satoe, cooking things like kimchi fried rice with whipped cream and strawberries. In other words, the family is very into the idea of “unconventional and strange” and has no qualms about it.

While Mimi in 02 is portrayed as liking practically any kind of fashion aesthetic imaginable, both her room and the overall decor of the apartment suggest that “in-your-face cute” is the generally favored one.

Mimi’s family is also extremely affectionate. They smother each other in lovey-dovey words, her father actively likes Satoe’s weird cooking ideas, and it’s a household where everyone seems to dote on and mutually love and support each other (Mimi’s parents are almost embarrassingly lovey-dovey) without restraint.

The result is that Mimi ends up “spoiled sweet” -- she’s pampered and used to a comfortable life where everyone dotes on her, but because of the family dynamic being so built on “affection” and “open-mindedness”, she also never develops a streak towards condescension or malice.

What does that mean, you might ask?

Mimi in Adventure

A lot of people remember Mimi by the fact that she was “whining a lot” in the early stages of Adventure, and the fact that she’s a “girly-girl” with some of the associated stereotypes. As a result, one may be surprised to hear that her behavior is actually supposed to be mostly representative of an average child in her situation, and she’s often described in press materials as “someone who can befriend anyone” or “someone who can get along with anyone”. Even her official website profile talks about how pretty much everyone considers her likeable.

This may seem difficult to believe at first, but you might actually notice a pattern when it comes to her “complaining” -- it pretty much always boils down to one of the following, or something along these lines:

I’m scared

I’m tired

I don’t like this/I don’t want that

I want a bath/bed/food/(some other home comfort)

I want to go home

In other words, Mimi is basically reacting like an average child would when thrown into another world out of nowhere! All of her complaints are out of low tolerance and high sensitivity -- all of these scary and uncomfortable things around her are making her feel bad, and she’s not hesitating to make that clear with her words.

However -- and this is very important -- these are all things she’s saying specifically because she’s now in a dangerous, unfamiliar situation in another world. All of these things are things she says defensively, because she’s sensitive to being uncomfortable or hurt, but she is also never aggressive towards others. In completely normal situations -- ones where all she’s doing is socializing at school -- it’s not hard to believe that she would actually be one of the nicest and most considerate people on the planet and that she would be instantly likeable to anyone she meets. Why? Because she lacks condescension or malice. She’s a very nice person who, if not for being under heavy stress, would never step on anyone’s toes. Even during those early episodes of Adventure, whenever there’s “down time” and they’re not in an uncomfortable situation or being chased by something, she goes back to being polite and respectful of others (remember: she’s one of the most adherent to honorifics among the cast), and is perfectly kind and agreeable with them.

As much as she may sometimes get demanding during the early episodes of Adventure, she also doesn’t expect her peers to cater to her nor does she look down on them. One of the biggest examples comes from the Adventure novel:

Mi–chan was pointing at the front of the bus, where a boy wearing a long–sleeved orange shirt was about to get off. Even Mimi knew who he was. They hardly ever talked together, but he was her classmate, Koushiro Izumi. Mi–chan wanted them to look at what Koushiro was carrying on his back – a wireless laptop. “Isn’t he so weird for bringing that all the way to camp?” Mi–chan sneered with mocking laughter, but Mimi didn’t laugh. She simply didn’t find any reason to.

In a situation where people are mocking this weirdo kid for bringing his laptop to camp, Mimi “sees no reason” to look down on him. To her, what’s the point? It’s not fun to be malicious towards others, and she sees no benefit in dunking on him. Hence, because she’s actually very polite and open-minded towards others, and doesn’t see any reason to be mean, she’s not mean, and so you can see why everyone would like her -- after all, she’s not only bright and cheerful, she’s also polite and kind! Who wouldn’t like such a nice person?

Mimi’s first “focus episode” is Adventure episode 6, and we already see a lot of these traits in action. Mimi gets to see the other kids making absolute fools of themselves under Monzaemon’s brainwashing, but the most she has to say is just observing that they seem to not be having fun, and being worried about their well-being. Once she finds out the truth behind what he did to them, she gets extremely angry on her friends’ behalf -- she actually calls them her “friends”, despite them barely knowing each other at this point!

And then when the Numemon step in to fight for her, despite her initially having been turned off by them (mainly because they make her uncomfortable, both by indulging in literal poop around her presence and by invading her personal space by flirting with her), she actually almost breaks down in tears over them!

What this all means is that Mimi’s “high sensitivity” also translates to something else: Mimi has extremely high empathy for others. In terms of being “sensitive”, she’s also sensitive to how other people feel. She worries about others’ welfare constantly, even when they’re poop-throwing slime monsters who had just flirted with her, or near-stranger classmates who just happen to have been thrown onto this adventure with her whom she barely knows. That’s why she’s so nice to other people -- she feels for them, and she constantly empathizes with others’ emotions, so that’s why she’s never rude to others nor does she step on their toes.

It’s also why, even after Koushirou rubs her the wrong way and momentarily causes her to lash out at him for being insensitive about her feelings in Adventure episode 10, she also never seems to hold a grudge against him thereafter (especially since, for as much as he was acting pretty frustrating, she understands he was doing it out of good intentions). In fact, Mimi is pretty much incapable of holding a grudge at all. (More on this later!)

Mimi’s most famous incident of “succumbing to her vices” is Adventure episode 25, when she ends up letting the Geckomon and Otamamon pamper her while stringing along and refusing to do the job they’d needed her for in the first place (singing to wake TonosamaGeckomon). Let’s go over what led to Mimi getting in this situation:

Mimi was basically at her limit. She had been in the Digital World for what had been implied to be months. Going that long without her bath or soft bed or comfort, it’s understandable that she finally let stress overcome her and succumbed to her vices in full. This is basically Mimi at one of her worst possible breaking points, not her most of the time.

Taichi, Jou, and their partners never gave her a very good reason why they should leave (Taichi never explained the problems going on in the real world, nor that he’d even taken a pit stop there) and now, for all she knows, they’re trapped in the Digital World forever, so when she sees an offer to make it all stop hurting, she naturally takes it -- especially when the people telling her to leave aren’t giving her any reason why except that she should.

Even despite all that, Mimi has a complete mental breakdown after her tantrum ends up throwing everyone in jail, dreaming about how everyone must hate her now and how even the Geckomon and Otamamon are tiring of her (the fact this pops up in her dream implies that she’d had a feeling this was coming for a while now). Sora comes to give her a little encouragement, but even she says that Mimi already really knows what she should be doing now. Mimi ends up bringing everyone out to apologize to them and fulfill her duty before the night is even over.

So let’s recap: Mimi is so empathetic and worried about other people’s feelings and what they think of her that, even in arguably one of the worst mental health crashes we’ve ever seen her have on screen, she still breaks down at the prospect of disappointing everyone and making them hate her to the point she immediately recognizes how far she’s fallen and takes it back before the night’s even over. That is how much other people, ranging from Taichi to a crowd of Digimon she’s only vaguely acquainted with, matter to her.

The full “payoff” for this episode in terms of the light of the Crest of Purity glowing and achieving Lilimon evolution does not happen until Adventure episode 35.

It is interesting for a lot of reasons, mainly because it involves all of the events happening in response to things that don’t sound very virtuous on their face (early in the episode, Mimi insensitively comments on Palmon being “bad taste”, and later in the episode she starts considering the Digimon tormenting others unforgivable).

The “Crest of Purity” (sometimes “Innocence”) is something that’s often been difficult to translate, mainly because the easiest words that come to mind often have other unwanted implications, but the real point of it is that, again, Mimi is lacking in malice. The way she talks to Palmon at the beginning of the episode indicates she really didn’t think Palmon would take it seriously (she even urges her to “not think too much into it”), only to find out at the end of the episode that she sort of kind of did. (Trust me, she’s very sorry about it.) The other thing is that, when she starts protesting at the Digimon at the end of the episode, she’s doing this specifically because she’s weeping on behalf of all of the tormented civilians (including her family) that are being caught in the crossfire. She’s so constantly empathetic towards other people that seeing other people hurt, regardless of how well she knows them, just eats her inside. So for her, those who cause that kind of suffering are unforgivable, because they’re inflicting that pain on others.

This is also what leads to her breakdown near the three-quarters mark of the series. Like with how she eventually came to empathize with the Numemon who fought on her behalf, Mimi holds no grudge against Scumon and Chuumon despite them having flirted with her earlier, and Chuumon taking a hit for her hurts her the deepest among all of the other kids. Because Mimi is so empathetic towards others, every death starts tearing away further until she finally can’t take it anymore.

Mimi is fundamentally the kind of person who hates fighting, and even from day one she’d never liked it -- her way of “encouraging” fighting was more like hoping that Palmon (or her evolved forms) could survive. If she wanted to win, it was in the sense of wanting everyone to Not Die; she was never belligerent. But now that the actual body count of people she considers friends is rising, she associates fighting so deeply with that body count that the pain gets to her, and the last straw breaks in Adventure episode 45 in the form of two people she considers friends, Taichi and Yamato, getting in a fight. Everyone around her is hurt. Everyone around her is pain. The naturally empathetic Mimi feels all of this, and she thus decides to pull back from the fighting.

Mimi being such a firm pacifist does have its benefits -- not only does it mean that she holds no grudge against Ogremon in Adventure episode 46 and bid for treating his wounds even though Jou (understandably!) is initially more skeptical because of how he’d initially tried to kill them, she also creates a major dent in Ogremon’s “fated rival” philosophy towards Leomon by forcing him to question: so what if you do defeat your rival? Then what? What’s the point of fighting? Does it actually make you feel better to try and prove your strength this way? (Even Leomon, for all he’s portrayed as noble, is still shown to have a petty investment in his conflict with Ogremon in the following episode.) Ogremon tries not to think too hard about it, but Mimi questioning “what he would do if Leomon were gone” becomes a question he really does have to confront when Leomon dies in the next episode...

...which is also an important learning lesson for Mimi herself as well: fighting may cause collateral damage, but not fighting doesn’t help things either, because when less-than-virtuous forces are at work, casualties will happen either way. In fact, it’s even worse to be a sitting duck, because now you’re just doing nothing when people die right in front of you. Which is a lesson that Jou had wanted to tell her earlier, but didn’t know how to describe to her in words because of his own complicated feelings:

What he wanted to tell her was this: that he didn’t see any likelihood of co-existing with the Dark Masters, and that they had no other choice but to fight them. Even a neutral country like Switzerland had a military. They would be invaded by enemy countries without one. It would be nice and ideal if they used the nonviolent resistance approach as Ghandi did. But that didn’t mean it was okay to just be killed without lifting a finger… But not even he could find a good answer.

However, Mimi is still a pacifist. Even if she finally understands that fighting is necessary, that should not mean that she should now force herself to become someone gung-ho and enthusiastic about it. This is why, in Adventure episode 50, Jou contemplates different ways they can productively contribute to the fight -- because Mimi should not be obligated to personally fight herself when it’s not in her fundamental nature, and Jou personally does not feel that he’s very good at it. But Jou, having put some thought into “one’s own path”, realizes that literal physical violence fighting isn’t the only way to be “part of the fight” -- and so while Jou starts to realize that his unique role is becoming someone who can be a capable healer and doctor for those who are wounded, Mimi has her own talents that she can use to bring Digimon and other allies together. Because Mimi is a kind and charismatic person whom everyone finds likeable and would be willing to come along with, and since she holds no grudges against anyone, nobody would hold any grudges against her, so she’s perfect for the role of “bringing people together for the sake of what they want to protect”.

And she does. Adventure being a series that respects the contributions of those who don’t necessarily participate by direct fighting, Mimi’s rallying together of the Digimon becomes key to saving everyone in Adventure episode 52, and the fact that everyone’s together in the end makes for a great group photo.

Speaking of the final episode, in case the point hadn’t been driven home enough that Mimi’s the most empathetic and emotionally sensitive of the entire cast, the series famously ends on her very emotionally compromised farewell with Palmon. Of course, Palmon’s the one who kind of initiated it (she’s the one who initially refuses to see Mimi because she’s too emotionally compromised), but, after all, the series ends on Mimi being so frazzled about it that she loses her hat.

Mimi in 02 and beyond

As with the other Adventure kids, Mimi’s character arc continues in 02, and we learn a lot about her before she even makes her first personal appearance!

Firstly, we learn that Mimi’s moved to America. The in-universe reason is that it’s for her father’s work...or, at least, ostensibly so, because 02 episode 40 implies that the actual reason was that her parents wanted them to be away from Digimon incidents. (Which, of course, didn’t last very long.) The meta reason for Mimi moving, however, very likely has to do with the fact that 02 involves a subplot of Chosen Children appearing all over the world, and Mimi’s character involves an innate talent for bringing people together.

We learn in Two-and-a-Half Year Break that Mimi moved in 2001, only one year before 02′s events, and eventually got caught in the 9/11 incident -- where she met a number of other American Chosen Children in New York and, now much stronger of heart since the events of Adventure, was able to help them in the recovery efforts, despite there being a language barrier. With this, and the fact she’s shown at a huge party in 02 episode 14: they’re not kidding when they say Mimi can become friends with pretty much anyone. Even going to an entirely different country and dealing with a language and cultural barrier, Mimi is such a naturally kind and compassionate person that she immediately doesn’t have any problem fitting in. (Because, really, someone that level of kind and friendly is hard to dislike.) And in a world where international solidarity between Chosen Children is getting more and more important, that is a very valuable role to have.

The other thing we find out early about Mimi in 02 episode 2 is that Sora catches on that Miyako is a lot like Mimi, based on the fact that Miyako also is empathetic and has an aversion to fighting. And Sora’s completely right, because when Mimi does come into the picture, the similarities -- and differences -- between her and Miyako say a lot about both characters.

When Mimi arrives in Japan in 02 episode 6 (for her cousin’s wedding), she and Miyako immediately get along with each other, and Miyako instantly role-models her, to the point of claiming her as an honorary older sister (despite already having older sisters herself!). It’s not surprising; Mimi and Miyako are both very bright and cheerful people, and Miyako even shares the background of being slightly pampered by her family (although presumably more due to her being the youngest of several siblings). Mimi, for her part, continues her trend of being likeable and fond of pretty much everything (including even her beloved tuna-mayo onigiri that she hadn’t had for so long), and is perfectly happy to be tight with Miyako.

The Digitamamon incident in 02 episode 14, however, adds an extra layer into why Miyako idolizes Mimi so much besides Mimi just being cool in general: Mimi is kind, forgiving, mature, and incapable of holding a grudge -- to the point her pacifistic tendencies kick in even when Digitamamon gets hit by a Evil Spiral and she refuses to fight him, despite him literally starting to beat her up. Again, Mimi came to understand the inevitability of having to fight back in Adventure, but Digitamamon is, to her, a friend who was trying his hardest to turn over a new leaf -- so, naturally, she tries to see if she can appeal to his heart instead. Miyako, on the other hand, is on the opposite extreme -- she’s so judgmental about her poor first impression with Digitamamon that, despite fully knowing well that Evil Spirals cause their victims to lose their ability to have reason, keeps trying to use it as evidence that Digitamamon was a traitor from the get-go.

Considering that the “secondary Digimentals” arc is largely about Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori coming to terms with their deficiencies in their respective traits and aspiring to do better, Miyako unfavorably compares herself to Mimi because Mimi is everything she wants to be and currently isn’t. Unlike Mimi, Miyako is aggressive, in-your-face, occasionally judgmental, belligerent, sometimes insensitive (not by choice), and often shallow, which she fully admits to in this episode. Of course, the reason Miyako gets the Digimental of Purity (Mimi’s trait) is because she hates this about herself -- even in 02 episode 31, she gives herself no shortage of grief for her foot-in-mouth syndrome and the fact she’s not as “kind” of a person she wants to be, and she herself is also fundamentally devoid of malice, just quick to jump to conclusions and a bit sidetracked by first impressions. (After all, Mimi was guilty of being accidentally insensitive when she called Palmon lacking in taste back in Adventure; the point is that when both of them do it, they really don’t mean badly, and end up sorry for it later.)

But that’s a story for another post about Miyako; more importantly, the reason Miyako is harsh on herself about this in this episode is that, in many ways, she’s everything Mimi is not, because Mimi is empathetic and mature and polite and never steps on anyone’s toes.

02 episode 25 gives us more to work with; first of all, she’s depicted in yet another completely different hair and fashion style (which she brings up another of during the winter season), and her drastic shifts in style indicate more of her “open-mindedness”; she’s open to trying out tons of new things and is willing to like just about anything. More importantly, however, she turns out to be completely open-minded about recruiting Ken to help out, even though she’s well aware of what he’d done as the Kaiser (and, again, Miyako sees her ability to be forgiving as something to look up to). Because, again, Mimi doesn’t hold a grudge; she doesn’t send anything accusatory or forceful to Ken, but simply believes that he should be given the chance to know what’s going on and help out if he so chooses, which becomes key to Miyako herself also choosing to accept Ken at the end of the episode.

Given that Mimi is portrayed as so open-minded towards trying all sorts of things, it’s probably no surprise that her “career” in Kizuna is so different from what we eventually know she’ll be doing in the epilogue -- instead of her cooking show, we see her running an online shopping business. After all, with her being so open-minded about wanting to do potentially anything, it’s very like her to "dabble” in a few different experimental things before (or perhaps “without”!) settling for something. What we know about this business is also quite on brand for her; her business specializes in “cute” (her preferred aesthetic, which she also shamelessly dresses in), and she’s established as setting up business all over the world to the point she has to constantly travel. Presumably, her natural charisma made it easy for her to set up connections.

Interestingly, her website profile also omits any discussion of any kind of university or other post-secondary education, implying that, unlike the others, she chose to dive directly into her career after high school. Again, it’s quite like her to find something she wanted to do and pursue it the moment it was in front of her -- no matter what it is, as long as it’s interesting.

Mimi’s largest amount of focus in regards to the movie is in To Sora, where she’s seen checking in on Sora after noticing she hasn’t been in the group chat in a while -- again, as someone constantly empathetic to how her friends are doing, it’s natural that she’s the one who catches on and decides she needs to check in. As someone who loves uplifting and supporting her friends first and foremost, she happens to be fully aware of what everyone’s currently up to (compare how Taichi had to be actively updated on Sora and Takeru’s status from Yamato in the movie proper), and also provides nothing but positive supportiveness to Sora’s troubles during their conversation -- as usual, always respectful and polite, and never condescending.

And, of course, she naturally empathizes with Sora having hesitation about fighting -- both because she’s been busy herself, but also because she, of course, understands exactly how it feels for fighting to be emotionally taxing -- and declares that she’ll support Sora with whatever she does, just like how she found her own path back in Adventure by choosing to contribute by bringing people together instead of fighting. She makes do on this promise as well, considering that she keeps up with supporting Sora during her exhibition.

By the time of the 02 epilogue, Mimi has decided to change tracks entirely and go for cooking, which, while being very different, is also very on-brand. This time, the part about “cooking” is something that comes from her family, since, after all, experimental cooking (...of some kind) was something Satoe got the whole family to embrace. The exact nature of her job is literally “culinary researcher”, which is a Japanese catch-all to refer to the sort of “food critic” who experiments with food and writes extensively (or, in this case, runs a TV show) about different ways you can enjoy and put together food, which also goes in mind with her streak of “open-mindedness”. The common point is, really, that everything Mimi does comes out of positivity, supportiveness, and love.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #tachikawa mimi #mimi tachikawa #kizuna spoilers #shihameta

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captainsimagines · 3 years

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

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 5 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: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago.

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning.

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never.

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak.

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love.

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky.

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action.

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around.

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier.

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief.

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now.

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well.

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly.

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking.

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now.

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation.

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles.

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night.

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck.

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected.

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah.

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face.

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack.

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender.

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing.

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries.

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing.

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary.

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room.

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand.

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night.

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented.

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve.

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin.

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.”

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack.

Ridiculous.

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself.

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies.

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

“He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath.

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious.

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands.

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together.

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck.

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating.

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours.

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order.

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp.

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back.

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection.

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded.

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms.

You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit.

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected.

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit.

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send.

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months. “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so.

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned.

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense.

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.”

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back.

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible.

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information.

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man.

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side.

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand.

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed.

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug.

“You better. Catch me up, please?”

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium.

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match.

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip.

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap.

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god.

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling.

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically.

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered.

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.”

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound.

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane.

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality.

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion.

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe.

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain.

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

“You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car.

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway.

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance.

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors.

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose.

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this.

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years.

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you.

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band.

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth.

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins.

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink.

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant.

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap. “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.”

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu.

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow.

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world.

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes.

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified.

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing.

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers.

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while.

“...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times.

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway.

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years.

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor.

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had.

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right. “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.”

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging.

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours.

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another.

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage.

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward.

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!”

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then.

Scott ordered so much dessert.

So much.

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe.

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends.

You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high.

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher.

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip.

You would indulge in this childishness once.

Once.

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher.

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks.

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen.

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you.

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you.

Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in.

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with.

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance.

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him.

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away.

No, Steve Rogers never ran.

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter.

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did.

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation.

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face.

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling.

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well.

A gesture of approval.

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips.

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers.

Your Captain.

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip.

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead.

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created.

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze.

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order.

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes.

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold.

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy.

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart.

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this.

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card.

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion.

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass.

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors.

“Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here.

And he had to do this for Sam.

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment.

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore.

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider.

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened.

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart.

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward.

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people.

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling.

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently.

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group.

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving.

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief.

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant.

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment.

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real.

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it.

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle.

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt.

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends?

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back.

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.”

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all.

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips.

“Steve?”

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking.

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself.

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room.

It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had.

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more.

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope.

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed.

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom.

As simple as that.

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in.

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford.

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing.

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock.

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small.

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous.

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp.

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken.

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic.

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name.

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock.

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper.

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self.

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony.

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check.

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip?

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder.

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts.

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth.

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine.

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing.

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead.

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds.

“I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers.

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them.

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary.

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up.

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you.

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours.

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man.

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

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seasidefallenangel · 3 years

Text

hq characters with a neurodivergent s/o

✰ neurodivergency refers to someone with adhd and/or autism.

sugawara koushi;

○ he tries his best to offer as much support as possible. he can’t say he understands a lot of it, but he absolutely sympathizes with you. you don’t have to worry a ton when you have more off days, or in the event you have rsd, that he’ll get upset with your feelings. he knows you genuinely can’t help it, and very rarely gets upset to point where he’d need a little distance from you

○ picks up on the concept of hyperfixations fairly easily. he can’t even begin to imagine how horrible it is - if one day he woke up and his passions meant nothing to him anymore. if you have a hard time making friends because of how quickly and intensely your interests change, he makes an effort to try and get into some of the new stuff you pick up. he can’t always guarantee he’ll like it or anything, but he’s always willing to listen to you infodump

○ if he spots any sort of fidget toy/stressball/etc, he’ll buy one for you. he’s not sure if they actually help you a lot, but you always seem super grateful for it. he’ll take notice of what ones you tend to reach for more and try to gear towards getting those ones for you

○ as patient as he is, he does have his moments where he can get overwhelmed with you. times where your impulsivity, aggression or other symptoms of neurodivergency become too much for him to handle can lead to him snapping a little. he’ll make sure to leave the room as he knows it’s not your fault and you don’t act like this on purpose, but he’s only human. he makes sure afterwards to let you know he’d never blame you for what you can’t help, and to not be too hard on yourself in these situations

nishinoya yuu;

○ there’s honestly a fair chance he had adhd himself, even if he doesn’t realize it. you’ve never explicitly said you think he is to his face, but sometimes you hint that the way you treat certain things is really similar

○ he’s a big believer that being spontaneous keeps a relationship fun and interesting, which is both a blessing and a curse. on some days, something new and unknown is exactly what you need to stimulate your brain and keep your attention. other days it’s hard to find purpose in doing anything at all, and keeping up with his energy proves to be difficult

○ he really doesn’t want to get annoyed with you, but it tends to happen pretty often. he recognizes you’re not purposefully trying to make him mad and in return he’ll try his hardest to never lash out at you. there’s been a few moments where it was just impossible to control himself (another sign of someone who’s nd, you noted afterwards), but both of you understand each others grievances and are able to work past it

kageyama tobio;

○ at first, he’s not going to take you seriously. he’s the type to say that you're just avoiding your problems, making up excuses, overreacting. the “if you want to do something, then just do it” type of person. he doesn’t really think he’s coming off as being an asshole, but when there’s a very noticeable rift between the two of you, he starts racking his brain for what might’ve made you upset and eventually puts two and two together

○ it takes time, as many things like this do. you’ll have to really sit down and explain things to him, and he slowly starts to understand. he’ll tell you some of this stuff reminds him of himself before brushing it off and never questioning it again. you absolutely suspect he’s on the spectrum but won’t bring it up until he either asks you or starts thinking about it himself - which happens when you accidentally mention how volleyball seems to be his special intrest

○ it can be... difficult to say the least. he can’t really keep up all that well with sudden shifts and the irritability you often show over things that seemingly don’t matter. sometimes it’s hard for him to not take things personally, and the fact you two seem so similar in this regard raises a fair amount of problems. you both have to learn from the issues and work together to co-exist peacefully, but it’s very worth it in the end

tsukishima kei;

○ tsukishima will pick on almost anyone for almost anything. this is something he will absolutely never joke about. he made the mistake once early on - something about a test grade - and had to deal with your emotional outburst, following a meltdown, over how you tried so hard but nothing makes sense. you can’t just sit in a class and learn like he does, you’ll never be normal, never be good enough-

○ he had to stop the downward spiral in the middle of the sidewalk, but he was too shaken up to worry about embarrassment. that sort of reaction wasn’t normal by any means, and when he got home that night he tried looking into why exactly that happened. the complete shift in attitude the next day was jarring you to, but the genuine apology was even more jarring. he doesn’t apologize easily, but something about having made fun of a neurological disorder you’ve suffered with your whole life just doesn’t sit well in his stomach

○ he picks up extremely quickly, even for him. he’s very perceptive of when you’re more on-edge than usual and reminds himself to be patient with you. he’s not coddling in public (unless you’re having some sort of breakdown or panic attack) but it’s noticeable that he doesn’t make any sort of jabs at you like he does with most others

○ helps tutor you without any gripes. he won’t lie and say he gets how hard it is for you to understand certain concepts, but he’s aware things don’t come as easily to other people like it does to him. very thorough in explaining whatever you have difficulty with and tries coming up with real life examples to help it make more sense. if it does become too much for him (he’s still a high schooler regardless of how he acts), he’ll end the session and let you know it’s nobody’s fault

kuroo tetsurou;

○ one of, if not at the top of the list, the best people to date if you’re neurodivergent. he takes this extremely seriously and doesn’t doubt you at all when you explain how it feels like everyday your disorder slowly rips you apart until there’s nothing left. every part of your life is affected by this and he wants to be able to help you feel as normal as possible despite everything weighing you down

○ puts a lot of time and research into your disorders. he wants to understand what’s helpful and what’s counterproductive without bothering you about it since he doesn’t know if you might react badly. he has a very good balance of figuring out how to help you cope in certain scenarios even if they’re not ideal and removing you from a situation where things are just too heavy for you to handle

○ he really stresses how important it is you talk to him about your boundaries, things you need, moments where you’re overwhelmed, etc. he can’t imagine life has been that easy for you thus far and tries to do everything he can, from helping with schoolwork, getting fidget toys, introducing you to new things that may help, and anything in between. he never wants you to feel as if you’re a burden or difficult because of what you can’t control, and will bend over backwards to prove it

kozume kenma;

○ kenma is fairly well versed in online topics and this is one that comes up often. given how perceptive he is towards the world around him, he was pretty easily able to figure out that something was different about you far before you started dating. he doesn’t speak about it much with you but does a lot behind-the-scenes to help make everyday life easier

○ given that kenma is always getting into new games and franchises, he’s able to help make the time in between hyperfixations more bearable. you had described to him how empty and monotone everything feels when you aren’t focused on something specific and he really hates picturing you so lifeless because your brain just won’t let you consume things normally. even if you aren’t playing the game so much as just watching his do it, he feels better knowing there’s something distracting you

○ something important to remember is that you’re not the only one who can act out or get overwhelmed easily. kenma hates being pushed out of his comfort zone and imagines it the same for you, so he makes sure to never put you in a place where you might face sensory overload or anything of the sort. he expects the same treatment back. infodumping is fine and he’ll nod and listen to you, but if there’s a point where you become suffocating then he’ll ask you to take a step back and give him a moment. wants to avoid triggering anything rsd-related so he’ll specify this isn’t your fault and that everyone makes him feel this way at some point

oikawa tooru;

○ quite possibly one of the worst people to go through this with you at the start. oikawa puts his soul into everything he does even if it shatters him, so some of your behaviors might not sit well with him. a lot of people who are neurodivergent have something they naturally excel in and in the same vein, end up dropping or disregarding because they no longer hyperfocus on it. it reminds him too much of a certain kouhai who had all the ability oikawa did with none of the years of practice it took him to get there, and puts a bad taste in your mouth

○ explain to him it’s not fair that he treats you in a way that implies you enjoy living like this, because you’d give anything to keep interests you have for longer than a few weeks or months, regardless of how much you try to force yourself to stay into it. he re-evaluates himself and realizes he’s in the wrong. he’ll never fully understand how it affects you but he’ll listen and learn about it, ask questions, study how he can help. he compares how you hyperfixate to how much he’ll focus on volleyball and knows this has to be an equally giving relationship in regards to respecting the other interests

○ he’ll have his moments where he can’t pretend that he’s able to handle your mood swings and inability to just sit down and pay attention to something. you tell him he wouldn’t be normal if he was somehow okay with everything you do. an afternoon where he practices in the gym by himself and you sit and binge watch something is good enough for some breathing room without causing any unclosable rift to appear. he’ll may sure he’s listening intently when he comes home and you go into detail about a new hobby of yours. he’s trying his absolute best, i promise you

bokuto koutaro;

○ it’s highly likely bokuto has adhd himself. it’s one of those things adults just say to kids when they’re being hyperactive without actually knowing all the things that come with having adhd, but the older bokuto got the more he looked into it and realized it might actually be a thing for him. there’s a lot of neurodivergent-related issues you have that sometimes fly over his head or he has to go back and think about again, but he’s the last person who ever wants to cause any issues for you

○ he’ll ask you questions regarding if you think he has adhd and some of the signs that make it recognizable. he’s terrified at the idea volleyball might just be a hyperfixation of his, but feels much better when you explain special interests and how if anything it would fall under that category for him. these conversations are a very intimate bonding moment for both of you, given how vulnerable you really have to be to let all your weaknesses be known without worry of ridicule. he wouldn’t trade the knowledge of having your trust so deeply for the world

○ bokuto, for as supportive as he is, can stimulate your brain in a bad way. he’s easily excitable and often has volume issues, and more than a few times has he triggered sensory overload for you. he feels horrible whenever it happens and wants to comfort you so badly, but knows the best thing is for him to just quiet down and leave you be. he never takes it personally and goes into “emo mode” because he knows how serious it can be. the only time he’ll get close in this moments is if you have a panic attack because of it in which case he tries helping you steady your breath and stop shaking. normally you’d hate being touched when you’re like this, but his arms and warmth work wonders for your psyche

tendou satori;

○ it’s terrifying how in-tune he is with you. it’s almost like you’re just talking about the weather instead of you trying to scratch the skin off your arm while your brain got the better of you. stimming, hyperfocusing, lack of interest, social interaction issues, you can talk to him about literally anything related to your neurodivergency and he’ll be on the exact same wavelength as you. he’s able to adapt very easily and can read your irritability, mood swings and any triggers you might have. is excellent at getting you out a situation before it becomes too much for you to bear

○ tendou is another character who always has something new to show you, so he’s also very good at filling the gap between hyperfixations. he’s somehow able to completely keep up with your infodumping and even will do something similar of the sort right back you. he loves finding new games and anime and will automatically partake in anything you show him. it really helps you mentally since you never feel like you’re talking too much or uncomfortably passionate about anything since he seems so genuinely interested in what you have to say

○ is extremely protective and defensive of you when it comes to others questioning why you act a certain way or do certain things. there’s probably a little bit of a personal tie there since he got bullied for being different when he was a kid, and he absolutely hates when people are derided because they don’t follow the falsely conceived notion of normalcy. you’re not harming anyone, why should it matter what you’re doing? if you’re insecure about stimming in public though, he invests in fidgets cubes for you to keep in your pockets to play with secretly so nobody notices anything out of the ordinary. his main goal is to make sure you’re happy no matter how much your head tries to tell your otherwise. really, he just loves you more than anything else

kita shinsuke;

○ if anyone else treated this the way mr. no gaps does, you’d absolutely freak out on them - but for some reason since it’s kita it comes off as comforting. he’s the type that doesn’t let you use disorders as a restriction or excuse to let yourself settle for mediocrity, but he makes it obvious that he wants to see you thrive despite the things holding you back. he’ll never put you in a situation he thinks will trigger any sort of attack, rather things he know you can handle if you put a little more faith in yourself and your abilities

○ if he sees you’re spiraling and can’t take any sort of outside forces interacting with you a ton then he’ll make sure you have a day or two off to yourself. he won’t criticize or ridicule you for anything and goes along with whatever whims you feel (or in same cases, don’t feel like doing anything at all.) understands there’s a very important balance you need to maintain in order to go through life feeling even semi-decent and doesn’t want to jeopardize any progress you’ve made towards helping yourself

○ likes to play casual volleyball in the backyard when you’re stable and attentive enough to understand what’s going on around you. if it becomes a hyperfixation of yours then he’ll be glad to go more in depth so long as it doesn’t hit a point where it’s damaging your ability to interact with anything else. he’s a big believer that moving your body and being outside helps relax you, even if you’re not enthusiastic at the moment about it. he won’t let anybody - not your family, not an outsider, not even yourself - look down on you for any disability you have

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　　 *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

✰ this was stupid self indulgent but idc!! i’m neurodivergent myself and let it be known that if you say you have hyperfixations and you’re not nd i will stick your arm in a deep fryer <3

#sugawara koushi x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kenma kozume x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #bokuto kotarou x reader #tendou satori x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #fluff #headcanons #haikyuu

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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per your post "every single one of the monsters is autistic and/or adhd" will you elaborate on that?, if you do i will love you forever (not that i wont if you dont do it)

oh boy i would love to!!! unironically nothing brings me more joy than writing long, convoluted character analysis posts

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okay so i’ve written several posts before about why andrew is autistic. his moral code, the roundabout way he communicates, his body language, his stimulation-seeking behavior, his strict adherence to transactional deals, the emphasis on honesty, and a dozen other details. at this point i just take andrew being autistic as fact, not just an interpretation

h o w e v e r i also hc that andrew is dyslexic, which is also a neurodiverse condition

- - -

similarly, i’ve seen more than one person interpret kevin as autistic, and i absolutely agree that it fits. not just the hyperfocus on exy but mostly the way he communicates. he’s very indirect, especially in his affection but very direct with his opinions. he tries to be helpful in a material way to the people he cares about, even if he comes off as negative. he wants the people he cares about to be safe and successful so he pushes them to work hard and reminds them in measurable ways how to stay healthy. he doesn’t factor in a lot of room for emotions, so instead he focuses on quantifiable things that he can improve. i personally act very similarly. approaching someone emotionally is hard for me, so when the people i care about have problems all i can think to do is try offering solutions, check up on their well-being, etc. practicality instead of conventional sentiment is extremely common with asd

- - -

so now let’s talk about neil. i had to think on this one for a WHILE but ultimately came to the conclusion that neil is adhd, probably hyperactive type.

like obviously neil is high energy. i would say he probably does the most exercise of anyone on the team. morning run, morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice with kevin and andrew, plus he doesn’t have a car so he runs to class (on a BIG ass campus), and goes for an extra run when he feels stressed. that’s... insane, honestly.

neil reminds me SO MUCH of this post that goes:

“Was just informed by my mom that I do in fact have ADHD and the reason I thought I didn’t was because ever since I was seven whenever I got super energetic my mom would have me go chop wood so now when I’m feeling The ADHD I go chop wood”

(phenomenal post) and that’s neil to a t. tell me this isn’t exactly how neil handles his problems and also exactly what mary would have had to do to keep her unmedicated and very energetic son focused on the task of staying alive

neil also definitely has that ADHD on/off switch with his interest. the obvious being exy which is like the definition of a hyperfixation, but you can see it in other things: the way he runs totally hot or totally cold with people, his complete disinterest in his schoolwork, the way he can’t seem to sit still long enough to follow movies. but then there’s also the hyperfocus. doing the same drill for hours on end. watching exy game after exy game. staring at andrew until time falls away

what’s more, neil on many occasions shows racing thoughts, both in an anxiety way (and anxiety often goes hand-and-hand with adhd) but also as a way to quickly and accurately take in details about people to build a character profile of them. this is what allows him to connect with the foxes, how he manages to get through andrew’s puzzles, and even how he knows what to say in order to knock riko down a peg. his brain just works so fast and it takes in a lot of very specific details and disparate information to make connections.

but also like,, neil has a HUGE problem with time blindness. like the instant he didn’t have his mother around to manage and direct him anymore he lost all sense of time. he stayed in Millport for a YEAR. and what did he keep telling himself during that time? basically “i really need to move on, but not just yet.” for a YEAR! then he gets to palmetto and he’s like “i’ll cut and run in a month or two” then he doesn’t “i’ll be gone by halloween” wrong again “i’ll leave by the raven’s game” nope. like,, the boy just has NO sense of time and he can’t seem to make himself DO anything outside of an externally enforced schedule. and even then,,, HE HAD 48 FUCKING DAYS TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING TO DO TO NOT GET MURDERED! 48 WHOLE DAYS. he didn’t make a plan, he didn’t write down any letters with goodbyes, he didn’t GO TO THE FBI LIKE HE’D INTENDED TO THE WHOLE TIME! nah he just made out with andrew and when he finally got to zero he was just like “ah shit, that was fast. oh well guess i’ll die” and that’s time blindness, babey!

---

let’s move on to nicky.

now i think it would be really easy to say nicky is just adhd because he’s high energy and forgetful but tbh,, i don’t think that’s all of it. like if you really look at nicky’s character and especially at his problems, he has asd problems just as much as he has adhd problems.

so nicky is dual diagnosis asd and adhd. also nicky reminds me a lot of a girl i used to know who was autistic/adhd

so, adhd:

very generally speaking, ppl with adhd will struggle with sitting still, listening to and following instructions, planning/organization, following a schedule, and some social boundaries like “appropriate” times and topics of conversation

i would say you see hints of this with nicky. he’s definitely a rambunctious personality, constantly on the move, constantly stimulation seeking. he’s very tactile. he likes to dance, he likes to party, he complains about it but he’s an elite-level athlete. he’s also decidedly very chatty, and doesn’t seem to really pay attention to what he’s saying. he distracts himself and the people around him have to keep him on track. he has some trouble with boundaries. he’s a little all over the place. he’s almost a bit of an adhd stereotype

also one thing i find interesting is that when neil sees him in the library doing work neil is surprised to see he’s capable of that, especially bc when we see the upperclassmen doing work they generally do it in their dorms or on the bus and/or with other people around. that hyper-social nicky would be alone in a quiet place is weird. but this is like the most common tip for dealing with adhd. don’t do it in a familiar space. have a designated space and time to do work. limit distractions. just a lil detail

so now, asd:

in all honesty, most of nicky’s actual problems in the narrative could be viewed as stemming from asd symptoms. his number one issue being that he has a lot of trouble with nonverbal cues (and tbh, verbal ones too). the twins are mostly quiet. andrew especially (when he’s sober) communicates primarily nonverbally, and nicky seems to have a lot of trouble with this. despite knowing them for the longest on the team, nicky honestly seems to have the least insight into the way either of the twins actually thinks or processes things. he loves them, and he’s very forgiving of them, but he fundamentally doesn’t understand them.

the twins, andrew especially, put up a LOT of nonverbal boundaries, and nicky sort of inadvertently keeps trampling all over them. he’s touchy in a way they don’t like. he talks a lot about their personal lives to other people. he treats them like they’re joking when they’re serious. etc. and like,,, you kind of get the sense that the upperclassmen feel similarly about him. beyond the homophobia, beyond the fact that he’s loyal to andrew, the upperclassmen still treat him with this sense of,, bafflement, i suppose? it’s clear that they don’t really understand him and he doesn’t really understand them. although, nicky IS curious about the upperclassmen, while the upperclassmen are pretty dismissive of him. it reminds me of when my sweet, floppy dog tries to play with my cat. their body language is different; they’re each receiving different signals than they believe they’re sending out

only,, nicky loves people!! he likes being around them, he likes talking to them. he’s interested in their lives and stories, but it’s very clear that he can’t read between the lines on people. he has an incredibly hard time with people who expect their actions to speak for them, which is most people, but is especially his cousins.

actually this is very much also an issue that i have: things need to be spelled out for me. the way i deal with it is i ask a lot of questions. ‘how do you want me to react to this potential situation?’ ‘what are specific things that make you most comfortable?’ ‘please explain to me exactly how you feel and what has prompted those feelings?’ and i’m always communicating vice versa like that with other people. a lot of specifics in both questions and answers

and the interesting thing is, when i was skimming through the books reviewing dialogue styles for another ask, i noticed that, actually, nicky DOES do this. with neil and the upperclassmen, nicky asks a LOT of quick, clarifying questions. things that ask after tone, that ask after intent. it’s kinda sad that he does this for communicating with acquaintances, but with the twins, the people he’s closest to, he makes a lot more assumptions. and i’m really proud of nicky for having this coping skill, because i can’t imagine it’s something he grew up doing. there’s no way he was raised in an environment that fostered this kind of open communication so it must have been something he learned about much later, probably in germany with the kloses, which would also explain why he’s a lil imperfect about it

---

now last but not least, aaron

this is another one i had to think through for a long time before it felt like it fit

much like how i felt that it would be easy to read nicky as simply adhd rather than also asd, i think it would be easy to say aaron is autistic simply because he is quieter, less rambunctious. however, i actually think he’s adhd, likely primarily inattentive type

in all honesty, aaron’s #1 character trait for the first two books is basically that he’s disconnected. detached. separated both from his family and his team. not in the same forcefully apathetic way that andrew is, more,, spaced out. he’s just kind,, there. not really paying attention to what’s going on, tuning in every once in a while only if something really catches his eye/ear then tuning right back out again. just sits in his corner and plays on his phone. and the thing is, from the moments when he does tune in, you can tell that he actually does care. he backs nicky when seth insults him in tfc, and we know he cares deeply about andrew even if he’s become disillusioned with their fraught relationship. he even hangs with his family, doesn’t seem to really try and slip away to other friends besides katelyn, he’s fine spending his leisure time with the monsters. so it’s not totally apathy, he’s just,,, tuned out most of the time

and, yea, that sounds like adhd. it’s not the type that most people are familiar with, and for a lot of people this causes it to slip under the radar. it can make it hard to get help or a dx because it doesn’t fit with how adhd “should” look or how someone “should” act, but difficulty focusing your thoughts and staying in tune with the current moment is absolutely part of adhd

addiction is also a huge problem for people with adhd. a lot of stimulants affect people with adhd very differently than neurotypicals, especially in small doses, and an adhd kid who’s struggled their whole lives with the disorder might try speed or god-forbid meth or fuck even coffee and suddenly find that things are a lot easier for them. they start to self-medicate, they don’t actually know what they’re doing, and then they’re addicted, and everything spirals out of control. we don’t know too many details about aaron’s addiction other than that his mother enabled him, but wouldn’t this fit? it’s also an explanation for aaron still taking drugs at eden’s, given that cracker dust seems to be a mild amphetamine. (aaron talk to betsy about the neurocog and get an actual prescription please)

(total throw away but aaron plays videogames and videogames are like,, adhd culture)

#Anonymous #txt #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #my posts #im talkin #cw addiction #cw addiction mentioned

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sprawa-przybyszewskiej · 3 years

Text

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much. (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.

#do you think they are constructed as parallels or am i delirious?#sprawa dantona #the danton case #L'Affaire Danton #Stanisława Przybyszewska #stanislawa przybyszewska #Maximilien Robespierre #maksymilian robespierre #antoine saint just #Antoni saint just #georges danton #jerzy danton #frev #french revolution #literary analysis

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mc-lukanette · 4 years

Text

42 Lukanette Thoughts

Marinette waiting until Luka’s birthday to give him a response to his confession. He’s absolutely “offended” and she’s just grinning at him.

Luka not being able to swim despite living on a boat. Bonus if Marinette invites him and Juleka out to the swimming pool one day and the absolute love-struck dork finds himself unable to say “no” to her. Juleka thinks it’s hilarious that he can’t just admit to Marinette that he can’t swim, so she has a blast constantly making everything worse, like telling Marinette that Luka doesn’t have a swimsuit so Marinette’ll end up making one for him.

Marinette thinking about the whole “LadyNoir” situation while she’s sketching in her notebook. She finds that she doesn’t even like the way her name meshes with Chat’s. One thought leads to another and she - while not even thinking - ends up writing “Lukanette” in her sketchbook. Cut to her hanging out with Luka later and showing him the designs she came up with that day, meaning that Luka ends up seeing “Lukanette” so casually written in her sketchbook.

Luka Knows™️ but also has to hide it because he can’t have Marinette thinking that he’s crushing on Ladybug. This eventually leads to him telling Ladybug that she can come to him at any time, which leads to nights of Ladybug giving him the snake so he can go on patrol with her. He’s not ready for her lowkey flirting and has to keep reminding himself that he’s not supposed to react since she doesn’t know that he Knows™️.

AU where Kitty Section never became a thing, but it turns out that Marinette’s good at writing lyrics. She actually ends up singing along to a song that Luka never had lyrics for and that’s how she becomes his lyricist.

A concept: switching around “Frozer” and “Captain Hardrock,” meaning that, when Luka goes to comfort this “stranger” walking onto deck, he might not even hear about the ice rink. If he does, they’re not close enough for her to ask him to come with her but he offers her some quick ice skating lessons before the “third-wheeling date.” If he doesn’t and thus gives Marinette no lessons, Adrimi ends up happening due to Marinette staying mostly off the ice due to clumsiness and constantly feeling bad over seeing Adrien and Kagami there, which leads into “Captain Hardrock” where she meets Luka again without any sort of Adrien influence (outside of her getting over him).

Marinette always being made fun of and called “funny” due to her clumsiness when she was little. Likewise, Luka was always considered too “soft” so he began to see it as an insult. Once they’re older, they end up calling each other “funny”/“soft” and suddenly find that it hits very different when it’s THEM saying it to each other because they can tell that there’s no maliciousness there.

Post-reveal friendly shenanigans where Luka is somewhere, idling on his phone, when a flash of red and black swoops down and snatches it out of his hand. He looks around, confused, then manages to catch the sight of Ladybug this time as she swoops back the other way and hands his phone back. He sees that she took a picture of herself winking + sticking her tongue out with his phone and now he can’t stop grinning stupidly to himself.

Marinette waking up after a stressful/exhausting day, then seeing the time and frantically calling Luka, worried that she’d missed an event or something. There’s a light chuckle on the other line as Luka reminds her that it’s Sunday and nothing’s going on so she should get back to sleep.

Post-Guardian Marinette things where Luka is her confidant who she told about her guardian status. Marinette occasionally lets the kwami free whenever she knows that Tom and Sabine won’t come up to disturb them, but it leads to a “problem” of sorts. Pollen, of course, calls Marinette her “queen,” but now that Luka is there also, Pollen calls him her “king” and Marinette and Luka are collectively dying.

Silly thing: snakes of all kinds being attached to Marinette. She’ll go to pet stores and they’ll boop their noses against the glass, wanting her attention. Luka feels unnecessarily smug post-dating because he’s her snake and no one else is.

Luka Knows™️ and finds a way for Marinette to vent about her Ladybug duties without her having to tell him her identity, like mentioning things that happened with Ladybug that day and giving her an opening to talk about them, if only from a faux-outsider’s perspective.

Luka having a terrible day, to the point where he’s legitimately worried about being akumatized. He decides to call Marinette as an akuma starts flying past the window, and just hearing Marinette’s voice alone fills Luka with such positive energy that the akuma is immediately repelled like wow ok i’m out. He watches the akuma leave with a smile and whispers, ”You’re amazing, Marinette.” “W-what?? Did you call just to tell me that?” “No, but it’s true.”

Marinette decides that she wants a challenge and asks Luka if she can make a full guitar for him. He knows he’d be stupid not to agree, but then Marinette shyly adds a condition: he has to name the guitar after her. Luka has no idea how to explain to her that he’s already named a guitar after her so she might have to settle for her guitar being “Marinette 2.”

Luka Knowing™️ and it makes him legitimately upset at how much stress and responsibility has been placed on her. He ends up getting akumatized so he can take her earrings, not to bring them to Hawk Moth, but to “save” her.

Viperion in a particularly tough akuma-related battle. Ladybug legitimately doesn’t know if they’re going to make it out okay, so she ends up finding a moment to confess to him. Cut to later when he ends up having to go back with Second Chance, erasing the moment from time, and apparently he’s just supposed to focus and pretend like he’s okay and he is SO getting her back when this fight is over.

Marinette being afraid to confess to Luka directly, so she’s constantly dropping hints that she likes him and Luka is picking up on none of them because he’s convinced that she still likes Adrien. The rest of Kitty Section is constantly getting on his case for not pursuing Marinette and he’s just like, “But she likes Adrien?” while having like 3984723748234 texts from Marinette just from that day alone.

Marinette deciding to use her Instagram to ramble, leading her to post some pictures of Luka and talk about how nice/sweet/handsome he is because surely he doesn’t follow her account so it’ll be fine (spoiler alert: he follows her account very much and Juleka makes a game out of trying to catch his reaction every time Marinette posts about him).

Post-dating, Marinette insisting to Luka that she “doesn’t want to mess up their first kiss,” and therefore they have to practice kissing each other first, apparently missing the point that it won’t be their first kiss if they’ve kissed each other before. Luka tries to explain the fault in logic but she’s not backing down and, really, who is he to refuse if she wants to kiss him a bunch?

Adulthood Lukanette “cruelty” on Marinette’s part where she decides that she wants to propose to Luka and puts the box with the wedding ring inside one of his guitars with the excuse that she was replacing the strings for him, then leaving Luka to realize what she did later.

Juleka asking Marinette who her favorite hero is because she was getting into a debate with Luka about it and they couldn’t agree. Marinette shyly peeks up because Luka is right there, but nonetheless admits that her favorite is Viperion.

Marinette visiting the Liberty and noticing Luka not playing his guitar and just staring off into space, a soft, loving look on his face. She asks Juleka about it, who casually brushes it off as, “Oh, he always does that when he’s thinking of you.” “When he’s thinking of WHO now????”

Post-dating in which Marinette freaks out over even the smallest contact with Luka just because she’s on a happy emotional high. (”You wanna hold hands??? Like--my hand??? Holding yours??? And our fingers will be intertwining and everything?? And we--stop laughing, Luka, these are important questions!!!”) Bonus if what gets her to take a huge step forward and just passionately kiss Luka is someone mocking their relationship and her proving them otherwise thusly.

Marinette gets a pet snake, names it “Viperion,” and happily uses it as an opportunity to gush about Viperion the second Luka questions why she chose a snake as a pet.

Marinette complains sometimes about Luka being “too tall” but really, it’s perfect for hugs, so-- (even if she still pouts about the fact that she can’t kiss him simply by being on her tip-toes).

Lowkey headcanon that Juleka and Rose purposefully set Marinette up with Luka since they’re like, “Luka’s missing!” in “Captain Hardrock” when Luka is in his room that Juleka shares with him and it would’ve been the first place to go look for him.

Luka being so used to messes and just leaving them alone thanks to living on the Liberty for so long and being around his mother. It’s a really hard habit to break when he starts living with Marinette and he’s extremely apologetic about it.

Luka posting a lot about Marinette/him and Marinette on Instagram and Marinette “fighting back” (bonus if she doesn’t do it intentionally) with posts about Luka/her and Luka/Kitty Section.

Why limit oneself to balcony scenes when you can have houseboat scenes too???

Marinette being offended by any polls where Ladybug wins over Viperion except Luka is offended by her opinion and it’s just them going back and forth about why Ladybug/Viperion should be more popular.

Tikki agreeing with Master Fu that Marinette and Adrien are “made for each other” but being a closet Lukanette fan in secret. That tiny Kitty Section shirt that Marinette made on Instagram is hers.

Pre-”Captain Hardrock,” Luka thinking he’s subtle asking for details about “the girl who broke his sister’s photo curse.” He’s not.

Marinette taking a music class and of course she asks Luka to help with things that she doesn’t understand. Bonus if she’s so into trying to learn that she doesn’t notice when she’s making him blush, like her casually sitting on his lap and asking him to physically instruct her on where her hands should be.

Post-dating, Marinette “bribing” Luka to do things using kisses. Bold of her to assume he wouldn’t have done it anyway, though he won’t say “no” to kisses either.

Marinette, being carried/protected by Viperion, knowing that she needs to leave to transform but also he’s very warm and nice so maybe just a little longer, this akuma isn’t that dangerous/disruptive anyway. (Viperion may also be indulging himself too but she’ll never know.)

“It's amazing how you can be so composed all the time, Luka! It feels like it's impossible to know what you're thinking!“ “Really? But I just think about you all the time, Marinette.“ “*DOESN’T KNOW WHETHER TO BE FLUSTERED OR OFFENDED BECAUSE HOW DARE--*”

Whenever Marinette does that thing where she closes her eyes and raises her head proudly... I feel like Luka gets the sudden urge to either kiss her or cup her cheeks.

Marinette and Luka having “silence challenges” in adulthood where they give each other affection and the first one to make a noise loses. The challenge never lasts long.

I just presume that Luka has sixth senses that go off the second Marinette is completely over Adrien.

Post-reveal and post-dating where Luka expresses concern to Marinette about the whole “destiny” nonsense with Adrien being Chat Noir and Marinette lets Luka know how she feels about that by showering Luka with lots of kisses.

Luka not realizing what he said to Marinette in “Silencer” until he goes home and Juleka asks him what they’d been talking about. His face turns progressively redder as he makes the realization.

Post-dating, Marinette not being used to the abundance of affection that Luka’s going to give her due to how many times she failed with Adrien.

#type: thoughts #Flower Arrangement Shipping #type: prompt set #((Not really but I could see people viewing it as one.))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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a-tale-of-legends · 3 years

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A semi-deep dive of N's relationship with Alexis and Elliot. A matter in three parts.

Part 1: The Journey

It's no secret that Alexis and Elliot's journey wasn't what they were expecting. And it all started with a strange green-haired person named N. Both of the twins collectively agreed that N was odd at first, from talking really fast to claiming that he could talk to Pokemon. It got even more odd, and a bit concerning, when they would start to talk about becoming a hero and befriending the white dragon. Elliot was easy to dismiss this as just a weird person doing weird things( though she still had an eye out). Alexis, on the other hand, was oddly concerned? Something about this stranger concerned him. Was he hurt? Lost? Confused? He didn't know the answer then, but he did know that it wouldn't hurt to get to know the mysterious N a bit more.

As the twins journey continues, more joy and despair happen on both sides, Alexis breaking more and more, far from the youthful spirited kid he was before this journey started. N would make appearances in their journey, up to Nimbasa City. At that point, Alexis actually considered N a friend. A strange and distant one, but a friend non the less( Anything to distract him from the death around him).Elliot was a bit more apprehensive, slowly starting to put the pieces together. Though Alexis talked a bit positively of N, and if Alexis was happy, she was happy. N was confused about the both of them. Alexis was someone who almost seemed happy to see him, by the chances that they do see each other, even sharing some of his ideals. But he still seems to oppose him. Then there was his sister, Elliot, who was much more harsh and opposing to N. Tbh, N didn't really like her at first. But her pokemon remain by her side, claiming to love her with every ounce of their being. So confusing....

Everything came crashing down at Nimbasa City. At that point, Alexis, the poor boy, broke. He spilled everything to N on the ferriswheel. The death, the running away, the sleepless nights, everything..... everything expect Team Plasma. What they did. But Alexis trusted N. N was his friend.

I'm going to be honest, I'm still not sure how N would react to Alexis confession. Disgust, anger, sympathy? All of the above. I don't know. But I do know is that he decided the worst timing to tell Alexis the truth. That he was the king of Team Plasma. The team that harmed pokemon. The team that stole pokemon. The team that killed Alexis' pokemon in Wellspring Cave. That team. Alexis never felt so numb in his life. He felt so betrayed.

Elliot, who was just about having enough with the Team Plasma shabang and was about to talk to Alexis about it when she saw them. N and Alexis leaving the ferriswheel. Alexis looking terrible. Two Team Plasma running up to them. She hears them call N "Lord N".

Lord N.

The pieces finally click together.

Elliot was livid.

Surprisingly, after the two had their battle, Alexis prevented Elliot from absolutely beating the shit out of N( which also didn't let N see her in a better light either).

The whole ordeal left Alexis so confused. He was betrayed. Was he? Was he just that desperate to not think about the reality of the situation? Was N ever truly hid friend? And yet, after all that, he just felt it. Something was wrong. Something bigger than Team Plasma, or N ideals. He needs to find out. He has to. For N. For Unova.

Elliot wanted Team Plasma to burn to the ground. Really, she did not fucking care. They hurt Alexis, they hurt so many people! Fuck them! She's going to take them down if it's the last thing she does. She has to protect them. She has to.

N, after the ferriswheel incident, has just become more and more confused. Whatever emotions that he felt, or tried to not feel, has died down. All he feels now is guilt. And he doesn't know why. He's right! He knows he's right! His father trained him for this exact moment! Why?! He remembers their faces. The emotion in their eyes. Alexis feeling of betrayal, Elliot's rage. He can't un-see it. They haunt himAnd the pokemon. The pokemon. He heard them scream. Yell. Shouting at him to get away, crying in concern for their trainers. Calling him a monster. A monster. Him. No that can't be right. The true monsters are humans. They are foul, and dishonest, and bring nothing but harm to pokemon. N is not the monster here, he-

...

He confides in his sisters. He.... doesn't want father to know of his doubts. They, too, have been exploring Unova. They should help. They should set him straight. But his sisters shake their head.

" That's just means your learning the truth N. Your truth,"

The truth? The truth.

Hm.

He needs to find Reshiram.

N and the twins don't meet each other for a while. Elliot is head set on beating down any Team Plasma grunt she see's, while Alexis is honestly just avoiding them to ensure his pokemon lives( fun fact! The later half of the nuzlocke was actually decently deathless! I take it as Alexis being extremely paranoid of everything). Chargestone Cave was an awkward encounter between Alexis and N( Elliot was busy battling Team Plasma grunts to notice N). They don't really talk, both being as elusive to the topic at hand. The tie breaker is Cody( a then joltik) who was vibing on N's hat before taking interest in Alexis. It was a good ice breaker at least. N asks Alexis if he has a dream. Alexis thinks for a bit. He says he's not sure. Not right now. Of course, in typical N fashion, they battle, to which Alexis wins. Professor Juniper and Bianca( but mostly professor juniper) seems to get N riled up. He leaves as quickly as he came.

After getting his 6th badge, he meets N again. No battle. He just wants to talk. That scares Alexis more than it should. Oh wait it's too his pokemon. Still scared though.

N's mind is still plagued with the events of Nimbasa City, what his sisters told him. But he's tired of talking to humans. Pokemon are better. They don't lie.....though it seems that Alexis' team doesn't want to talk to him. Everyone except the Samurott. She insists for him to call her Kai. The name Alexis have her. That's.... interesting. He hopes to find something, anything, that proves him right. Surely, Alexis, his enemy friend rival, isn't as nice as he appears to be. There has to be more. There's always more( he knows from experience)

What she says surprise him. Does it? Was he something he always knew? He doesn't know .

Kai speaks of her trainer highly, and with great pride. Almost like a mother, ironically. She tells N that she would never leave his side. That Alexis is the most selfless human she is so fortunate to have as a trainer. She tells N that she loves him, and the team that they created

She also warns him if he tries anything to harm Alexis anymore than what Team Plasma already did, she will maul him to death. Politely.

Ah.

The new information makes the guilt N felt before resurface. The bond between Alexis and his pokemon( and dare say between his sister and her pokemon) is strong. It's would be heartbreaking to separate them. But if he must for the sake of pokemon then....

...

He tells Alexis about the stones. In Dragonspiral Tower.

Now there isn't much to say about the rest. The tension is high, Elliot is still mad, and Alexis is still a shadow of the young boy he was( but is slowly putting the puzzle pieces of N together)

When reaching N's castle, Elliot gets a slight perspective change. She's still angry and mourning( she lost pokemon too) but then she see's more team Plasma grunts. Some her age. Some younger. They all share the goal of wanting a better world for Pokemon. Some are even unsure of Ghetsis' action. Even N's! That's.....not different from what she saw. She's seen these type of grunts. Those who just want to protect pokemon. Those who just want pokemon safe. She knows that. ...

But that doesn't excuse all the harm they cause. She's still mad. She's still mourning. But she understands now. Just a little. Still doesn't like N.

Alexis finally understands. N's room. It's so....empty. So crooked. He can feel the loneliness. The isolation. He feel a fire blazing in his heart. He's going to save N, and Unova and maybe punch Ghetsis in the face! He just Zekrom feels the same.

The rest of it is a blur.

Alexis remember a few things. The gym leaders, the Elite Four, Cheren, Bianca.

His sister.

He remembers hearing Zekroms cries, lightning and fire clash. Waves of emotions pour out his body. He needs to make him understand. He has to.

Ghetsis. That smile. That rage. N's cries for his father to stop. His sisters were right. His sisters were right-

It's over.

He's gone.

And then they were two.

" Alexis! You said you weren't sure what your dream was. I hope you find it someday," N smiles down at the slightly bloodied Alexis, " I hope you find your dream! I hope you dream that dream! Dream that wonderful dream, and with the ideals in your heart, make it a reality!" He tips his hat, his eyes glistening.

" Thank you for everything, my friend. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. And.....farewell!"

And then he's gone.

It's over.

Why does he still feel so numb? He should be happy. Ghetsis is gone, N is going to find his truth and everyone he loves is safe. He should-

He should....

He should go.

He doesn't want to be here anymore.

He'll be back.

Of course he will he just-

Can't do this anymore.

Elliot gets a phone call from her mother, crying. It's about Alexis. He wasn't at the hospital. The nurse found the bed empty. All except for a note:

"Gonna find N. Be back soon"- A

Liar.

#oc: alexis jones #oc: elliot jones #n harmonia #this ended up a story and a half #AND IT'S ONLY PART 1 #i think the next two will be much shorter #but who knows #also #don't tag as ship #please their relationship is purely platonic #they're siblings your honor

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years

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Chapter 2 part 3 Of Every Rose Has Its Thorns is out now! the AU and some of the ideas and characters belong to @creepypasta-shtick and Maplehood Creek, Rosewood, and Tabby Anderson belong to me.

TW: character death, mentions of blood and gore

Toby made his way to the door. Tabby followed suit. Toby opened the door. Tabby walked out and waited for him since she really didn't know where she was going. Toby led her to the door right next to theirs and knocked. He heard footsteps and the sound of someone moving so they could peak through the eye hole. Then the door opened a crack.

"Hi guys-"

Tabby gave a small wave with her left hand. Jane opened the door and let them in with a furtive look. Tabby entered cautiously. Taking in her surroundings. Jane's apartment looked pretty nice, though it was filled with masks. Something was cooking slowly in a crockpot, which smelled amazing. Jane offered them a weak smile. Tabby took note of the look and smile. She knows Jane is hiding something because she gives the same look that Tabby gives her step dad when he confronts her on the stuff she's being sneaky about. The smell of something cooking in the crockpot made her stomach growl loudly. She crossed her arms over her stomach with a look of embarrassment.

"So! What brings you here-" Jane started to ask.

Toby put a hand up.

"You're hiding something."

Jane looked taken aback.

"Hiding something? What would I be hiding-?"

"It's okay, Jane. Neither of us will tell anyone. We promise. We both saw you with that person. We both know they're not a proxy, but they're wearing a mask. Please...you can tell us."

"it's okay" Tabby gave a smile of reassurance.

She held her arms behind her back. Jane nodded slowly, then took a shuddering breath.

"I'll hold you both to this, you know. If anyone finds out, you can expect me to not react kindly." She got up, and went to a closed door. She opened it. Toby could just make out "Kayla, you can come out. They won't hurt you."

Toby watched as Jane led a human out of the room. The human was a girl, short with dark, heavy eyes, a dark complexion, and long cornrows. She dressed very nicely, in a cream-colored sundress that was now covered with dirt and blood. She had various injuries of varying degrees of severity, each of which were treated, but not professionally.

"She accidentally found her way down here with her friends...".

Tabby felt a pang of sympathy for her. She looked just like her when the boys found her in the woods. She noted her injuries.

"I'm Tabby"

She looked over at Jane

"Isn't there any way to return her back?"

"I'm going to take her. Tonight. But I need to see if I can find any of her friends." Jane said. Kayla looked shaky and terrified. She avoided looking at them.

"Hey...Kayla listen...I know what it's like being terrified....but we are the few good people...we'll be able to help you....where did you see your other friends last? Did you all fall together?" She looked over at Toby with an expression that says 'i know us being good people isn't true but please just go with it'

Kayla shook her head.

"We went different ways after we landed, trying to find a way out. I don't know how we got in-"

She was shaky and looked like she wanted fo cry.

"I don't know where they are-"

Jane patted her shoulder gently. Kayla winced. Jane retracted her hand quickly.

"Who all is with you?"

"Me and my four friends...Kyle, Nico, Angelina, and Erica..." Kayla buried her face in her hands. Her voice was shaky. "I don't know if they're-if they're still-"

Tabby took a deep breath.

"If they're still alive?" She sighed "honestly that could be a 50/50" "but we'll try to help in any way we can".

Toby nodded. "In return for us returning you to safety with your friends, you may not tell anyone about this place or what's in it. Understand? If you do, we can't help you."

Kayla nodded. "Okay, just please-"

"Where would your friends most likely go? Based on what they like. Normally people have preferred hiding places or places that they would go to hide or get away from everything in the human world. Maybe they would be in similar places here or close to it", asked Tabby.

"Erica is fast...she wouldn't hide. She would keep moving and never be in one place. Angelina would hide as far away from others as she could, so somewhere out in the woods. Nico...god, Nico would try to blend in. He would hide in plain sight if he could. He would listen in and figure out what was going on and mask himself. Kyle...Kyle would hide in a large building if he could. A large place with a lot of hidey holes.", said Kayla.

"Alrighty well... Erica and Nico would be a challenge....but I'm sure we can find Angelina and Kyle..." she said thinking out loud.

She turned to Toby "are there any most likely places that match those descriptions?"

Toby nodded. "Yeah. I can try to find Erica and Nico. I can sense them. You try to find Angelina and Kyle. Check the library and big buildings like that. Jane will help you."

"Alrighty then let's go. I just hope we don't get caught", said Tabby.

"Isn't there anything to like mask her as a proxy just temporarily?"

Jane thought for a bit.

"Well, the mask usually does the trick. Most people don't use their sensing abilities when they see the mask." Jane said.

"Toby's just extra sensitive to that sort of stuff. I could get some charms and wards and whatnot to mask her even further but a malus would easily be able to smell her."

"Well I'd rather take extra precautions. Better to be safe than sorry. In order to increase her chances of survival and to increase our chances of not getting caught"

Tabby has good interpersonal leadership skills when she's not being shy and anti social. She's always been known as the unofficial ringleader of her group when they were alive unknowingly. And she unknowingly did what she does best. Taking the reigns of any situation.

"I actually don't think it would be safe for her to go out at all." Jane mused.

"She would still be a target because no one would recognize her." Toby had a bad feeling about helping her but knew that it was the right thing to do. This stuff happened a lot. Just usually the humans would die within the hour of them getting here.

"Well then why doesn't someone stay here with her while we look for her friends...or what's left of them.....and like meet up at a secret place or something like that?"

Tabby shifted uncomfortably. Her intuition was screaming at her to be extremely careful about this.

"Our resources would he stretched too thin if we left someone here. We have to scour an entire city without help." Toby said. Kayla was staring at her hands.

"Well do you have any ideas?" She asked the both of them.

"We could leave her here. As long as the door is locked and she doesn't leave, she'll be okay."

"Okay...so are we still going to look for her friends?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay then. Let's go"

Jane led Kayla back to the room.

"Whatever you do, don't open the door if someone knocks. I have my own key. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom lock as well. The windows have bars on them. No one can get in through there. If you smell Sulphur, hide."

Tabby was fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt again. It wasn't getting into trouble that bothered her. She knew how to take severe punishments. It was just the fear of getting caught that bothered her. She just got this crazy second chance at life and she was already committing high treason. She wasn't sure what the punishments would entail coming from the Slenderman but she knew it wasn't going to be a pretty picture. Death at best. However her intuition and conscience were telling her to help. She always believed in giving others what she couldn't have if she can help it. In Kayla's case it was a chance at going back to a normal life and to have her friends back. She didn't like to having to make difficult decisions but she was also taught to do what she thought was right no matter the cost. And that will out weigh everything always. Toby knew this was wrong. He knew that no human deserved to live. He had been taught that humans were worthless ever since he joined this life. He should be wanting to kill this girl and her friends. But...he didn't. There was no point in it. He was having a bit of a crisis. Why didn't he want to kill her? Why did he want her to get to live as well as her friends? He was taught never to disobey the Slenderman, that his word was law and there was nothing he could do about it. Oh...well, as long as he didn't get caught. Right? Tabby's anxiety was growing. She couldn't disobey a direct order. Her step dad taught her that from a young age or else she got beaten. Same thing goes for the Slenderman only if she disobeyed she was pretty sure she would get a fate a lot worse than a beating and death. Her step dad also taught her that you have to be manipulative, cruel, mean, and selfish. No one else's life matters except your own. And if you have to use people for your own survival including death then so be it. But yet that's not her. Sure she was mean and harsh and lacks a conscious but that's just more of a coping mechanism. But her intuition said otherwise. She knew deep down that it was the right thing to do. And she was good at being sneaky so she shouldn't get caught. She cleared her throat and pushed away her step dad's teachings and stood up straight smoothening out her shirt with her hands shakily at her sides.

"So are we going or not?"

Jane nodded. She helped Kayla back to the room. She figured that Kayla should sleep now. Once Kayla was in the bed and dozing off, Jane went to her closet and began to load up on some weapons and some placeholder masks. She doubted these people were alive. But maybe with luck they would find at least one. Tabby tried to neutralize her anxiety by taking a couple of shallow deep breaths but it just made her more nauseous and she had a hard time swallowing. She still showed no emotion though. Jane was also nervous. The chances of finding her friends alive was very small, and the chances of getting them all out alive were even smaller. Tabby waited for everyone else. Her left eye twitched a little due to anxiety. Jane and Toby were ready to go. Jane had made sure Kayla was comfortable. Tabby followed them out the door. Toby said his goodbyes and immediately set off to try to find them. She said goodbye to Toby not really wanting to be left without him. She looked over at Jane.

"Now it's just the two of us"

Toby waved as he left. Jane nodded.

"Hopefully we can find them...alive I mean.".

Tabby gave him a small wave back. She turned to Jane faking the confidence to get rid of her anxiety.

"I hope so too...hopefully none of us get caught...let's go" she lead the way heading towards the library first.

Tabby gave him a small wave back. She turned to Jane faking the confidence to get rid of her anxiety. "I hope so too...hopefully none of us get caught...let's go" she lead the way heading towards the library first.

"Hopefully" she agreed.

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ahsokatanope · 4 years

Text

Battered and Bruised: Chapter III

(Un)Broken Ties

Previous Chapters: Chapter I | Chapter II

Summary: You and Obi-Wan are forced to work together to fight and survive in Ja’arvis’ arena.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Inquisitor!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Angst. Sad Obi and sad reader talking about their feelings towards the end. Oh, and violence/mention of blood. (arena fights do be tough, y’all)

Note: First of all, this gif of Obi >>>> lol. Originally posted by @bo-katan. Secondly, I really enjoyed writing this one. It’s a long one and took forever to write, but I loved every second of it. I’d love to know what y’all think! It’s only uphill from here. Also, I wanna hug Obi.

“Care to remove mine as well?” A tone of dread edges around your words.

This feeling of vulnerability is something you haven’t felt in a while. In the past 48 hours, you’ve felt more exposed and defenseless than you ever have as an Inquisitor. You feel like the Maker is testing you to see how far your body and emotions can go without breaking.

Obi-Wan just looks at you and raises an eyebrow.

“After what you tried to pull earlier? Oh, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head at you, a hint of a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Then suddenly, the dark, grungy walls around you jerk and you feel the room begin to ascend.

Well, this is a sad excuse for an elevator, isn’t it?

“Kenobi,” you start, your energy for arguing has completely evaporated. “At least give me a fighting chance.”

This is as close as you are going to get to saying ‘please’ or asking for help. Obi-Wan looks at you, his eyes analyzing your exhausted form.

“Sorry, my dear, but I don’t trust you quite yet.”

The elevator jerks to a stop and you look up at him dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?” You stare at him incredulously.

His eyes glint with mischief. “Deadly.”

You hear a horrible screeching metal sound as the rusting durasteel door slides open, letting the bright light from the outside beam into the room.

Immediately, you are met with more guards who pull you out and push you forward.

Given no choice but to exit the elevator, the two of you step out with squinted eyes as your pupils struggle to adjust to the new lighting. The door squeaks shut, so now you are trapped outside.

When you are finally able to see clearly, you are met with the sight of thousands of various types of creatures and living beings onlooking your entrance. The roar of the audience’s cheers fills your ears and it’s deafening.

You look around, thankful to finally breathe in some air that isn’t musty or stale. The sky above is a mixture between pink and orange, the air that surrounds you temperate. The arena is grand, almost as large as the one you and Obi-Wan had escaped from on Geonosis all those years ago.

Suddenly a loud voice booms around the entire massive arena and the audience quiets to a low buzz. “Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fans, welcome to The Games!”

You scan the edges of the arena to find the source of the voice. There, front and center, on a raised balcony with the best view of the arena stands a Rakatan male, dressed in what looks like extremely expensive clothing. He must be the infamous Ja’arvis Takun you’ve heard so much about.

“Today I bring my loyal audience a gift that will be the height of entertainment since The Clone Wars!”

Your heart begins to beat faster in anticipation of what’s going to happen. Your mind goes a million miles a minute as you try to calculate a way to escape from this hellhole.

The towering walls that surround the battleground are too high and steep to climb. Without equipment, trying to escape that way would be a death wish. Various doors line the outside rim of the arena and you are almost positive that none of them lead to the outside world. You’re not sure what exactly lies behind those doors and you’re not sure you want to find out.

The bottom of the line is… you’re trapped with no way to escape.

“Today, my friends, I present the Bane Squad versus Kainoa versus two of our newest competitors...” The audience waits in anticipation. “Two Jedi!”

The spectators that surround the battleground erupt into chaos.

Who the kriff are Bane Squad? Kainoa? What did you get yourself into? You’ve truly outdone yourself this time.

“Let The Games begin!”

Your eyes widen when you see one of the other doors open to your right. You see a group of Togruta warriors emerge from one, various bits and pieces of armor covering each of their bodies. You count four of them and each of them look hungry for blood as they grip their spear-like weapons.

Beside you, Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber. “I hope you still have an audacious mindset, darling, because right now it looks like we could put it to use.”

“Kenobi, you need to let me go.” You say quickly, sticking your bounded arms out in front of you, desperate for freedom. Your eyes dart towards the warriors who march to hunt you down. “I need to defend myself.”

He just smirks at you before he runs off, towards the enemy. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Kenobi!” You shout after him, seething with anger. Your eyes blaze with fire when you watch him move away. Your gloved fists clench within the cuffs and you feel helpless.

He really hasn’t changed since The Clone Wars, has he?

Deciding to cut your losses, you try to look around for any advantage you could use against your enemy. None. No elevated platforms for a height advantage, no weapons around, no shields; absolutely nothing.

Guess you’ll just have to get creative.

While Kenobi engages with two of the warriors, the other two close in on your position. When one gets close enough to take a swing at you with his spear, he does. You’re quick to react (or maybe he’s just slow) and you parry the blow with the middle part of your cuffs, hoping that the metal would split from the impact and set you free, but it doesn’t. The durasteel spearhead from the weapon splinters instead, leaving the warrior with a long, wooden stick instead.

“What are these damned things made out of?” You mutter under your breath. “The metal won’t give.”

While the Togrutan is frozen in shock at his weapon breaking so quickly, you grab the stick and use it to parry his teammate’s attack on your left. At this, the audience that makes up the arena seems to rile up, cheering louder for you. Stunned by your reflexes, the warrior staggers back and you surge forward on the offensive, delivering striking blows (as deadly as you could with a wooden weapon). The other Togruta comes at you from behind and locks you up in a tight hold, making you drop the wooden weapon.

When the other warrior comes to deliver the killing blow with his spear, you kick your feet out, connecting with his chest and knocking him on his back. Then, you throw your body weight forward to flip the one behind you over your body and onto the ground as well.

Out of breath and your heart pounding with adrenaline, your shackled hands quickly reach forward to grab the dropped unbroken spear on the ground and finish both of your enemies, ending their lives with a stab to each of their chests.

The spectators around the arena go wild at that. Struggling to catch your breath, you look around for Kenobi, wondering how he fared. Expecting to see him as ruffled as you were, you’re surprised to see him staring back at you with an amused look on his face. He’s only a few feet away, having easily defeated his enemies. The wind blows a few tendrils of his auburn hair in front of his left eye. He twirls his lightsaber and deactivates it.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, crossing his arms after he clips his saber on his belt.

“Glad to know you’re making a habit of leaving me to die.” You retort, narrowing your eyes.

A smirk makes its way to your face when you see Kenobi’s smug look drop.

“This isn’t a situation we haven’t been in before, you know.” He says, lifting an eyebrow. “You took out three Geonosians and a nexus with cuffs on while we were held captive in Geonosis.”

“Those cuffs didn’t have Force-binding material, did they?” You respond sharply.

Suddenly another door opens on the other side of the arena. When you see the creature that emerges, the onlookers cheer loudly and your eyes widen.

“You must know-”

“Kenobi, we’ve got more company.” You say, eyes darting to the large dragon-like creature stalking closer behind him.

When Obi-Wan turns around, he immediately goes to grab his saber and ignite it.

“Now would be a great time to free me.” You say, anxiety creeping into your voice, but before you finish the sentence, he’s already slashed at your cuffs with his saber.

Finally feeling the Force flow around you once again, you sigh with delight as the metal drops to the ground. But the feeling of contentment only lasts for a second because you have a new problem at hand.

“Jedi, meet Kainoa, my favorite pet.” Ja’arvis says from his seat on his balcony.

“Is that a Krayt Dragon?” Obi-Wan asks incredulously. “What in the blazes is it doing here?”

You use the Force to call the spear you used to kill the two Togrutans to your hand. It may be a weak weapon, but at least it’s something.

“Doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, watching the creature snarl in the nearing-distance. “What’s the plan to kill it?”

“You’re asking me? I haven’t got a clue, I’ve never interacted with one of these before.”

“You’re the one with the saber, Kenobi.” You sigh, growing frustrated with the current situation.

A few seconds pass and he speaks up again. “Alright, I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll be a fan of it.”

“Get on with it, we don’t have time to wait around.”

“I need you to be a distraction. Let it chase you as I sneak up behind.”

He’s right. You don’t like this plan at all, but it’s the only thing that makes sense right now.

“Always putting me in danger, aren’t you, Kenobi?” You say with a smirk before backing away from him. “Make this quick!” You shout before turning to run and drag the attention of the Krayt Dragon away from Obi-Wan.

“Aren’t you an ugly thing?” You yell to the dragon (or Kainoa as Ja’arvis named it) as Kenobi moves to sneak up behind. The large creature is covered in spikes, you wonder how the former Jedi is going to pull this off without getting injured. You wonder how you are going to pull off distracting the thing without getting injured.

The dragon snarls and begins to chase after you and you sprint away, using the Force to propel yourself faster than normal. Turning around, you aim and throw the spear into Kainoa’s right eye. It screeches loudly and reels back, but it doesn’t distract it for long because seconds later, it’s back onto you.

Not anticipating its quick recovery and increasing speed, the dragon catches up to you swiftly and grabs a hold of your cape with its teeth.

Not good. You think as you’re dragged backwards and onto the ground.

You try to drag your heels into the dirt, but it’s no use. The dragon drags you with it as it runs across the entire arena. You can hear the audience torn between laughs and cheers.

“Kenobi, you planning on joining the fight anytime soon?” You yell, out of breath as more and more dirt coats your body.

“I can’t find an opening!”

You pick your head up and will yourself to focus, looking for a weak spot in the animal’s armor. You spot that its stomach has reptilian skin over it instead of the spikes that cover the rest of its body.

“Go for the underbelly!” You yell, coughing when dirt dusts into your mouth. “If we both work together, we can lift it and expose it!”

“On the count of three, ready?” Obi-Wan responds. “One. Two… Three!”

On ‘three,’ you focus all your energy onto the beast in front of you and it stops running, levitating off the ground with your cape and yourself hanging from its mouth. In a quick flash, Kenobi gets under the dragon and stabs its underbelly, making sure to step out the way of falling guts and blood.

The shriek it lets out is high and blood-curdling, and it causes you to be free from its grip, which sends you tumbling to the ground. It’s so loud you have to cover your ears.

You and the creature hit the ground at the same time, and instead of getting up right away, you stay there lying on the ground face up. Your body aches and throbs all over, and you are covered with dirt, mud, and dragon saliva. You pant heavily, your chest rising and falling quickly, as you try to catch your breath. The stench from the dragon’s breath fills your nose and you wrinkle in disgust.

A minute later, Obi-Wan is above you, offering a hand for you to stand.

You choose to ignore it and stand up yourself, your legs wobbly beneath you.

“Look at us working together again, Kenobi. Who would’ve thought?” You wheeze, coughing a bit due to the amount of dirt that got into your mouth. What you wouldn’t give for a drink of water right now.

“We make a great team.” Obi-Wan smiles at you, a true and genuine smile that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. It makes your stomach flutter against your wishes. Your feelings for him are returning and you’re trying your best to stop them, but you find yourself unsuccessful.

Whatever moment you’re having with Obi-Wan is interrupted by a loud voice that sounds around the arena. It’s then that you’re brought back into the moment and reality settles back in.

Ja’arvis.

“Well done, well done, Jedi. You two put on quite a show.”

Pulling your gaze away from Obi-Wan, you take a step away from him and a step towards Ja’arvis’ balcony. When your gaze meets Ja’arvis’ form above you, your eyes turn dark when you remember the situation you’re in.

“I am no Jedi, Ja’arvis. I am the First Sister, leader of the Imperial Inquisition. The Empire will come for me, you Rakatan scum. You will regret holding me in your custody.” You say darkly, your eyes burning a hole into him. Obi-Wan watches you curiously.

Whatever playful mood you were in before is completely gone now and replaced by the same stoic face you show to your enemies.

Ja’arvis just laughs, the spectators following along and the sound of laughter ripples around you. Why is it that nobody takes you seriously?

“Doll, the Empire doesn’t know you’re here. Your threats mean nothing to me.”

Unclenching your right fist, you slightly wave it before you say, “You have no need for us here. You want to let us go.”

“Your feeble Jedi mind tricks do not work on me.” Ja’arvis says, annoyance clear in his tone.

You notice guards come up behind you. Your eyes watch them before they snap back over to Ja’arvis’ position.

“You two are lucky I am in a good mood today or you would have been in that arena with Kainoa and her two sisters.” Ja’arvis states with a wiry smile on his face. “Consider yourselves extremely lucky.”

Now, Kenobi decides to speak up. “Thank you for your kindness, Gamemaster Takun. It’s much appreciated.”

You can tell he is being sarcastic, but the way he delivers the line is genuine, which means that Ja’arvis is buying into Obi-Wan’s charm.

“I like that one.” Ja’arvis says with a chuckle before he continues. “Take them to their new quarters. I’ll come to visit them shortly.”

“No thanks.” You mutter under your breath.

When you turn around and are guided by the guards to one of the doors in the arena, you don’t fight them. It’s no use. So instead, you let them lead you to your new ‘home.’

You just hope it has a 'fresher so you can clean all the dirt, grime, and dragon saliva off of you.

—————

The ‘cell’ they put you in surprisingly isn’t much of a dungeon. Sure, it’s a confined living space with no windows, but compared to the tight, grungy room you were held in earlier, your new holding cell feels like a penthouse.

It’s clean and doesn’t smell like the back end of a gundark. The walls are a plain white color and polished duracrete makes up the floor. You’re surprised to see a table in the front corner of the room along with two chairs. Two beds sit in the back corners split by a door to what you believe is the ‘fresher.

Not bad for being held prisoner, honestly. Upon your arrival, you’d expected worse living conditions from your captors.

The catch? You have to share it with Obi-Wan.

The thick reinforced durasteel door locks after the guards leave the room.

Without sparing a glance at Obi-Wan, you sit down in one of the chairs at the table and run a hand through your hair. It tangles through the knotted, dirty stands and you give up when you realize you won’t be able to tame it until you shower.

Finally able to relax after days of nonstop fighting, you sigh in contentment and bask in the silence the room provides you. As exhausted as you are and as peaceful as the silence is, you can’t help but keep your guard up around you. You know better than to completely relax in a situation where you’re in captivity.

You glance over at the door to the ‘fresher in the back of the room. A shower sounds amazing right now, but you can’t help but feel on edge... like you need to protect yourself from a threat.

“I can sense conflict in you.” Obi-Wan says, carefully watching you from a few feet away.

Obi-Wan. Your thoughts had caused his presence to slip from your mind for a brief moment. Maybe he’s the reason why your body won’t let you fully relax. As he stated earlier in the arena, he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t trust him either. You may have worked together to survive, but that doesn’t mean that you can let your guard down around him.

But he hasn’t attempted to kill you. A small voice speaks up in the back of your mind. And it’s true. He hasn’t. Not today, anyway.

During your first encounter at the scrap yard, you’re positive that there were many windows of opportunity for him to strike you with a devastating blow from his saber, but he never did. And when he got his lightsaber from Hondo earlier, he could have struck you down right then and there for putting him in the situation he was in.

Lord Vader had once told you that Kenobi had betrayed you both. That he was brainwashed by The Jedi Code and never cared for either of you.

So why is he looking at you right now with concern etched across his features? Why does he look like he cares?

The realization sends your mind reeling. You must be losing it.

You tear your eyes away from Obi-Wan. “I need to get out of here.”

Before he can respond, the door to your cell hisses open. The same two guards from before come in and act as bodyguards for the one and only Ja’arvis Takun. Upon his entrance, he throws a sack onto the table next to you with a smug look on his face.

Your gaze on him is hard before you glance down at the sack. A few credits leak out from the opening at the top.

“What is this?” You snatch the bag with your left hand.

“Your cut from today.” Ja’arvis responds. “For some reason, the viewers adored you two today. That’s a lot more than an average newcomer receives.”

You steal a glance at Obi-Wan and he looks just as confused as you feel. Credits? Why? You’re his prisoners.

“As you probably found out earlier, both of you are now my gladiators.” Ja’arvis explains. “I paid top dollar for you two and I expect to get a return on investment. However, if everyday is like today, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“If you expect to profit from us, then why give us a cut?” Obi-Wan asks, crossing his arms.

“It’s all a part of the system, my Jedi warrior. With those credits you can buy yourself weapons, armor, luxuries, you name it! Better weapons and armor means a better chance of survival in The Games. The more games you survive, the closer you get to becoming a Champion. Once you achieve the rank of a Champion, you can choose to leave if you so choose, but most decide to stay because they enjoy the lifestyle.”

Ja’arvis looks like he’s enjoying every part of this. He’s a leech feeding off of the downfall of others.

“There is a training room on this floor as well. In that training room is a weapons shop and a workshop where you can tinker with your weapons and armor. You're free to use the training room any time as long as it doesn’t interfere with your schedule. There’s an intercom next to the door that you shall use to summon guards that will escort you there. The training room is the only place that allows weapons other than the arena.”

The Rakatan continues his explanation. “On your beds you will find your uniforms. Wear them. You’ll get a new set after each match. I’ve decided to keep you both together as a team since the audience loves the idea of a new dynamic duo. You are slated to fight in the arena every day of the week except for Tuesdays and Saturdays. Do you both understand all that I have explained?”

You don’t like this at all. Ja’arvis runs a well-oiled machine and the margin for escape isn’t looking too broad anymore.

Does that stop you from getting up to defiantly get in Ja’arvis’ face? No.

Clutching the bag of credits in your hand, you stand up from your chair quickly and immediately the guards react, shifting in front of Ja’arvis to shield him from you.

“How dare you.” You hiss. “I do not belong here, you Rakatan scum. When I leave here—”

You’re about to throw the bag of credits back at Ja’arvis but Obi-Wan swiftly puts his hand over it, freezing your actions.

“I believe what my dear friend is trying to say is thank you for your payment and hospitality, Gamemaster Takun.” Obi-Wan looks at you pointedly. “You have our gratitude. We will be ready for the arena tomorrow. Won’t we, Y/N?”

You glare at Kenobi, then back at Ja’arvis. You can feel the warmth from Obi-Wan’s hand begin to bleed through your glove. You release your hand from the credit pouch and turn away, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.

“I’m not afraid of you, Ja’arvis.” You say when you turn back around, your voice calmer than before.

“How are you liking your new quarters? Does it fit you well?” Ja’arvis asks, his gaze on you hardening.

You keep your expression apathetic.

“You have my good friend Hondo Ohnaka to thank for that. Any colleague of Hondo’s should receive the best treatment from yours truly.” He thins his eyes at you. “But if you defy me again, I will not hesitate to stick you back in the rusting cage you were in this morning.”

Swallowing, you stare back at him, hate glowing in your yellow irises. You may be defiant, but you’re not stupid. No way you’re going back to that hellhole.

“Understood.” You finally say, clenching your jaw.

And just like that, Ja’arvis is back to his jolly self, acting like his threats never happened. “Good.” He turns to leave, bringing the guards with him. “See you tomorrow, Jedi. Rest well. You’ll need it.”

Then, the door hisses shut and you are left alone with Obi-Wan Kenobi once again. You don’t get to savor a moment of silence before he begins to scold you.

“Must you always act so impulsive? You shouldn’t speak that way to our captor. The last thing we need is for you to anger him and put us in a worse situation.” Kenobi is displeased to say the least.

You sigh, sinking back down into the chair behind you. “I don’t know about you, Kenobi, but I don’t want to be here. I’m not going to show respect to someone who profits off of my downfall.”

“I do not wish to be here anymore than you do, but I know when to pick my battles.” He says, annoyance growing in his tone. “Your impulsiveness is going to get us killed, you know that?”

You glare at him, your bright amber eyes piercing into his figure. “I’m going to get out of here one way or another. For your own sake, I’d suggest staying out of my way.”

“Do you not understand? The only way you or I are getting out of here is through the way of The Games. Nobody is coming for us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Kenobi.” You snap sharply. “Not anymore. You are the one who doesn’t understand. The Empire will come for me, and once they find me, they will kill you.”

Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. One thing he was known for in the past was his patience, and he’s exhibiting it right now as you speak.

“Whether you like it or not, First Sister ,” Obi-Wan begins, and you can tell that he doesn’t like the way the new title feels coming out of his mouth. “We must work as a team if we are to escape.”

“Yeah, okay—”

“You must know that the Empire most likely believes you are dead, right?” Kenobi asks, the start of a fire glowing in his eyes as he looks at you. “Your helmet along with both of your sabers, which are most likely destroyed by the way, lie in the wreckage from the scrap pile that collapsed mere seconds after I escaped with you in my arms. Your welcome, by the way.”

You sigh and open your mouth to speak, but he continues on.

“If there is an opening that we can take advantage of and escape, we will do so with no hesitation. However, until then, we shall work together to stay alive until an opportunity opens.”

You’re silent for a few moments and cast your eyes down to the polished duracrete floor. He’s right. There is no escape. With no weapons in your quarters or knowledge of the complex map, escape is futile. This means that your options are very slim: choose to comply and team up with Kenobi until the Empire finds you or try to escape and get in a worse situation than you are now. You don’t like either, but your choice is obvious.

“What happened to you, Y/N?” It’s a simple question, really, but the way Obi-Wan asks it has so many emotions tied each word.

“I found my true self through the Dark Side of the Force.” Your tone is detached; like you’ve recited those words over and over again to the point where they hold no meaning anymore.

Obi-Wan looks away before his eyes flick over to you. “You know,” he begins, moving to sit on his bed, “after you took your helmet off on Tatooine, I didn’t want to believe it was you.” You stay quiet as he goes on. “You had the same face and voice as the Y/N I once knew, but everything else…”

“What are you getting at?”

“I refuse to believe that the compassionate, strong Jedi I once knew, my best friend, could turn into someone so…”

“Horrible?” You offer, completely void of energy. “Evil? How about monstrous, I haven’t heard that one in a while.” This conversation is not one you want to have at the moment and it’s wearing you out. Actually, all of the events that happened in the last 48 hours are finally hitting you full on and exhaustion that you felt earlier now kicks into full gear.

“Corrupt.” Obi-Wan replies instead, his voice weakening.

And for the first time since your reunion, you see just how much all of this has taken its toll on him. He looks just as exhausted as you feel. Bags have formed under his eyes from lack of sleep and you can see the pain evident in his blue eyes. Eyes that used to be bright with confidence and triumph are now dull with no shine to them. The luster in his gaze that was reserved only for you during the Clone Wars is absent and replaced by an eerie emptiness.

The man is a ghost of his former self… and you don’t know exactly why, but this realization bothers you.

You blink and let his words sink in, too tired to close your mind to them. As much as you want to leave the room and be alone, you can’t.

Curiosity gets the best of you and you vocalize a question that you’ve been wondering since it happened.

“Why did you save me, then?”

Something flashes in his gaze. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, thinning your eyes at him. “Answer my question.”

“You hesitated.” Kenobi claims and his brows furrow.

You did. You remember every moment of that encounter. When finally given the moment to get your revenge, you couldn’t follow through.

You turn, no longer able to look into Obi-Wan’s imploring eyes. He wants an answer, but right now, you are not yet ready to give one to him.

“Tell me why you did it.” You mumble, fidgeting with a thread sticking out of your torn sleeve.

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you in the sand to die and waste away?” His voice has a newfound energy to it that grows with each passing word. “No.”

“Why not?” You ask, snapping your head toward him.

“Because I already lost you once!” He yells, and you can see frustration and sadness within his eyes once again. You’ve caused that. “I’d already lost you once and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

His voice sounds so broken . Nothing like the man you once knew.

Moments pass and there is nothing but silence that surrounds you two. You hold each other’s gaze for a few beats before he looks away, taking a deep breath.

You sigh defeatedly. “I was already lost. I still am.” You subconsciously shift in your seat when Obi-Wan’s stormy blue eyes meet yours again. “I was trying to kill you, you know.”

“No.” He says in a low voice, shaking his head. “You weren’t. That was evident the moment you hesitated to land the final blow. You had me at your mercy and you made a choice.”

Kenobi stands up and takes a step towards you, causing you to rise from your position and move away from him.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

There it is. The question you’ve been avoiding. He’s pretty much backed you into a corner physically and metaphorically.

You close your eyes, turning away from him for a moment.

“I couldn’t.” You whisper. “I couldn’t be responsible for the death of my former best friend, okay? I couldn’t do it.” Your voice is sad, and you hate how vulnerable you feel right now, but there is no stopping your emotions. “No matter how many times I was told that you were a traitor and that you along with the rest of the Order were against me… I just… I was weak and I couldn’t follow through.”

You look up to see a flicker of hope appear in Obi-Wan’s eyes. You want to tell him not that you're not capable of being the person you once were, but when you open your mouth, he’s already speaking.

“You weren’t weak, Y/N. You were strong for fighting the call of the Dark Side. You aren’t the monster you portray yourself to be.”

A mask of apathy takes over your facial features.

“21.” You say darkly, taking a deep, shaky breath. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “That’s the number of Jedi I’ve killed over the past two years.”

His eyes widen. It’s the exact reaction you expect.

“Six of them were children.” You continue, staring directly at him. “The rest of them were just Padawans or just barely Knighted.”

Silence.

Now you are the one who senses Kenobi’s confliction. You can feel the emotions clashing within him and how he’s fighting against them.

“I was heartless. Ruthless. I showed no mercy.” You voice, walking a few steps toward your bed. You glance at the uniform that lays upon it. Turning around, you look at Obi-Wan once again. His expression reads concerned, like he’s worried for you.

“I’m the Inquisition’s highest ranking officer, ranking above The Grand Inquisitor himself, because of my achievements in hunting Jedi. Yet, when I found you…” You shake your head and let out a slight scoff. “I couldn’t finish the job. How comical is that? An Inquisitor who couldn’t execute a target due to her pre-existing emotional ties.” You breath out a humorless laugh. “Embarrassing.”

A blanket of quiet falls around the room. It’s a few moments before Obi-Wan decides to speak up.

“There is good in you, Y/N. I can sense it.” He says, his voice strong. “Nothing is going to change that.”

A corner of your mouth twinges up into a slight smirk. “That’s where you’re wrong, Obi-Wan.”

You turn to grab the black uniform on your bed and head to the ‘fresher, wanting nothing more than to put a wall between yourself and the broken Jedi. Upon entering the ‘fresher, you hear Obi-Wan’s voice barely above a whisper. The question he asks freezes your entire body.

“What did they do to you?”

You know exactly what he means by the question. What horrible things did Sidious and Vader do to transform you into the unrecognizable person you had become? What did they say? How did they hurt you? How much were you tortured? What was the extent of your mental wounds? And most importantly… What caused such a powerful, loyal Jedi to crack?

Saying that it’s a loaded question is the understatement of the century.

You try to prevent the terrible memories that threaten to flash on the backs of your eyelids. Just thinking about your transformation makes you feel the pain and suffering of it all over again.

So you don’t turn to look at him when you answer. You don’t want him to witness any more of your vulnerability than he has already.

“You don’t want to know.”

—————

Howling wind blows sand around chaotically as a dust storm begins to brew up on the dry planet of Tatooine. Stormtroopers and probe droids can be seen searching the remnants of a collapsed scrap yard. The Empire is searching for something, or someone .

The Grand Inquisitor steps onto the scene, having freshly arrived from Fortress Inquisitorius. Two Purge Troopers come up to meet him.

“Any sign of her?” He asks, his unsettling figure looming over the troopers.

“No signs of her body, sir. Only these.” One of the Purge Troopers nods to another and he brings forth a broken lightsaber, crushed from heavy impact and deformed from exposure to heavy heat. The Grand Inquisitor takes the saber into his hand and examines it before clipping it to his belt.

Another trooper steps forward with a disfigured helmet; not just any helmet, but the sleek black helmet that belongs to the First Sister. The matte durite of the helmet is completely destroyed, making the helmet almost unrecognizable.

This is all the evidence The Grand Inquisitor needs.

“Bring this to my ship and contact Lord Vader immediately.” He says, his mouth twisting up into a sickly grin.

“The Inquisition is mine now.”

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