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xb-squaredx · 11 months

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Tears of the Kingdom Review: Building a Better Sequel

Breath of the Wild was a massively successful entry in Nintendo’s acclaimed Legend of Zelda series. It sailed past the best-selling installments, and served as both a swan song for the ill-fated Wii U console, and the first breath of life for the Switch, which has become a massive success in its own right. BOTW wasn’t just considered to be a great Zelda game, but it served to redefine how open world games could be made, and its effects on the industry are being felt to this day. A sequel seemed inevitable, but even so, many questioned if Nintendo could make lightning strike twice. After six long years of waiting, Tears of the Kingdom is here…and it makes BOTW look like a tech demo.

UPHEAVING THE FAMILIAR

One of the biggest obstacles Nintendo likely faced in development was finding a way to make the world of Hyrule fresh again, despite largely using the same map from BOTW. Their answer is The Upheaval. TOTK opens with Link and Zelda investigating the source of a strange, toxic substance seeping out from deep below Hyrule Castle. The Gloom sickens and weakens anyone that touches it, and eventually they see the source is a decayed, withered body held in place by a strange, glowing arm. Soon enough the body stirs and a torrent of Gloom is unleashed on Hyrule. The Master Sword (and most of Link’s right arm) is destroyed, Hyrule Castle is suspended high in the air and Zelda vanishes after being engulfed by a strange light. In the aftermath Link finds himself on a floating island, one of many now dotting Hyrule’s skies, with the mysterious arm having replaced his corrupted one, and with it he has two goals: stopping the strange figure and finding Zelda.

The structure of TOTK is largely the same as the predecessor, being almost completely open after players complete a lengthy tutorial. For what it’s worth, I find this game’s story a bit more interesting than BOTW, but TOTK still inherits some of that game’s issues when it comes to narrative. When you have a game where 90% of the plot is both optional and can be done in any order, it can be difficult to make things impactful and coherent. As a result, the Zelda team arrived at a solution that is understandable, but a bit grating after a point. Most main missions are largely written as if they could be the player’s FIRST main mission after the tutorial, and the end result is a lot of repetition as the same exposition dump is given to players multiple times over the entire playthrough.

Similar to BOTW, the juiciest bits of this game’s narrative are found in the past. Link can find memories hidden away all over Hyrule, which largely explains the bulk of the game’s backstory concerning the ancient Zonai, a race of beings that were there at Hyrule’s founding but are strangely absent in the present day. This is also how we primarily get the main villain, this game’s incarnation of Ganondorf, fleshed out. As a result of the game’s commitment to nonlinearity it’s possible to skip all of the set up and arrive at the conclusion without any of the build-up, which happened to me. Suddenly I know of the game’s biggest twist and the answer to the game’s main driving question, which made any subsequent plot moment lose a lot of impact. While the game is often very good at acknowledging sequence breaks with certain quests, it was a bit annoying that the game continued to play coy despite having laid out the main answer to me so early on. Admittedly, that won’t be everyone’s experience, but that was a big issue for me that held the narrative back a bit. Well that and some bad audio mixing. It would have been nice to actually hear the sparsely used voice acting over the often booming music!

I do appreciate that this game’s overall tone is a lot more optimistic and focused on unity compared to BOTW’s almost crushing loneliness, serving to give TOTK its own identity. Link has plenty of allies right from the get-go this time around, with a base of operations near Hyrule Castle that slowly expands as the game goes on. It’s pretty rewarding to see the races of Hyrule join together, at least after you help them with their own issues Ganondorf’s revival has caused. As with the previous game, the overall art direction is also fantastic, making for some breathtaking vistas at times. As much as the Switch is really showing its age, the technical aspects of this game are proof that specs aren’t everything. Being able to load up this massive world with almost seamless navigation and juggling of physics objects is nothing short of astounding considering the Switch is little more than an outdated tablet at this point, and it manages to be at a mostly stable 30 FPS, making a marked improvement from BOTW. While I have my misgivings with some of the narrative structure, I was immediately pulled in and think the game has a great start, but there’s plenty to sink your teeth into, as I’ll demonstrate.

TIERS OF THE KINGDOM

BOTW was already a gigantic game, but TOTK pushes to somehow stuff in even more. Broadly speaking, we can look at three different tiers of the kingdom (heh), each with their own distinct feel and gameplay loop. Starting with the sky, there’s this calm, almost ethereal feeling to most of the sky islands found in this game. The Great Sky Island that players start out on definitely paints a good picture of what to expect as they continue exploring…however I found that the sky was far and away the most lacking part of the game’s world.

The Sky Islands are both lacking in size and frequency, a criticism that also plagued Skyward Sword from back in the Wii era. The Great Sky Island really set me up for disappointment, when most other sky structures are barely a fraction of its size and start to feel same-y after a point. You pop up into the sky, find a shrine, maybe a treasure chest…and then you’re done. Only rarely can you find somewhat larger, more interesting structures, but they’re surrounded by a TON of empty space. To a degree this is probably intentional. If the entire skyline was filled with floating islands it wouldn’t look very good from the surface, so having some room to breathe makes sense aesthetically. There’s also the fact that making sure the islands are more spaced out naturally makes it harder to get to them. You end the tutorial without your paraglider, and early in the game your stamina won’t hold out long enough to sail through the massive gaps in the sky to reach another island. That way, there’s this sense of mystery and anticipation when finding the next destination in the sky. I would look up at massive sky labyrinths or floating spheres and wonder both what was in there…but also how I’d even get up there. Even so, the fact that some sky islands are so small you can’t even really spot them on a zoomed-out map is a step too far. I’m shocked at how much they were played up in marketing when they barely factored into my total playtime.

Thankfully, there’s a lot more to this game. The surface is where the bulk of the game’s focus on community really comes into play. You have all the different villages and regions to explore, and it’s where the bulk of vendors and quests will be. Without Guardians roaming around, you notice a LOT more NPCs just out and about in Hyrule, and it was a welcome contrast to the other tiers and their relative isolation. Be it checking in on the latest gossip at stables, or getting my fashion on at Hateno Village, there was always something to do. The bulk of the game’s Shrines of Light are also found here, giving players quick, isolated puzzles that slowly drip feed health and stamina upgrades. Even if you want to go visit the sky, you’re basically required to return to the surface in search of new ways to get up high, such as the Skyview Towers invented by Purah and Robbie. These not only fill in your Purah Pad’s map, but also catapult you high into the air, giving you the chance to reach certain sky islands, or get a different perspective as you plot where to go next. But sometimes you might notice some strange areas on the surface that require…deeper examination.

All over Hyrule players can find massive chasms that are surrounded by Gloom, but if you’re brave enough to head down one you’ll find one of the game’s biggest secrets…the Depths. A gargantuan subterranean region, I found the Depths to be a very interesting inversion of the game’s normal environments in more ways than one. For starters, compared to the boundless freedom found in the surface and the sky, you have to take it slow and steady underground. Most of the Depths are pitch black, and you never know what is lurking just beyond the shadows. Link will either have to use special seeds to create temporary light, or seek out Lightroots that can illuminate larger chunks of the map permanently. Unlike when you use the Skyview Towers to map out the sky and surface, Lightroots only illuminate a small radius around them, causing me to slowly work from root to root, occasionally being sidetracked by various treasures and structures to explore. Eventually, I noticed that Lightroots connect to the Shrines of Light found on the surface and suddenly it all came together: the Depths are just an inverted surface. Every mountain becomes a massive, deep valley. Every body of water turns into an impenetrable wall. Similar to the sky, players will have to leave the depths and find another way back down in order to get to certain areas, but even more than that…being in the Depths for so long can be fatal. Gloom is much more concentrated down in the Depths, and enemies are also infected with it. Taking damage from Gloom goes a step further and effectively “breaks” your heart gauge, requiring special meals made from Sundelion flowers found mostly on the sky in order to heal, that or natural light from the surface or Lightroots. As dangerous as the depths are though, they’re the main source of Zonaite, a special ore that will be incredibly handy when using the wide range of Zonai technology found throughout the game.

THE FUN OF CHEATING

The Skeikiah Slate from BOTW is no more, but Link has arguably better powers to work with this time around with the help of his nifty new arm. During the tutorial, players gain four main powers from the Zonai to help on his adventure and it doesn’t take long to realize that Link is so powerful now that you’re basically playing with cheat codes.

The first and likely most important power is Ultrahand. At first glance it seems like a reskin of Magnesis, letting you pick up and move objects, though this time you aren’t limited to metal. But the real kicker here is the ability to combine objects together with…basically magical glue. Take some wooden boards and glue them together, attach some wheels and BAM…you have a makeshift cart. Or you can use one of the many different ancient Zonai devices by attaching them to a wide variety of things for almost limitless possibilities. Zonai devices often look like modern-day technology, even running off of a battery of sorts that Link can upgrade as he goes through the game. Fans, flamethrowers, steering wheels…the list goes on. Some devices are just strewn about all over the game, but in the sky specifically you can find…basically gatcha machines that dispense TONS of devices in capsule form that you can store and use later on when you need them. What’s more, later in the game you can find the Autobuild power that allows you to save “recipes” of various constructions, and then assemble them quickly, being able to use zonaite if you’re short some parts. What I like about this power is that you can be as simple or as complicated as you want. You COULD just glue some logs together as a makeshift raft…or you could go out of your way to make something far more intricate. For players that’d rather not mess with the ability entirely…while the game is built with it in mind, you can still get by for most of the game without worrying about it as much. Autobuild especially helps cut down on the time spent building things as a really great upgrade too. The entire game could have easily been built around this concept alone, but we still have other powers to cover.

Fuse is effectively a combat-centric take on Ultrahand. Using Fuse, Link can take almost any object and glue it to his weapons. I can put a Zonai spring on a shield, or glue a sword to my sword. I can even put a chunk of meat on my arrowhead if I’m so inclined. Nearly every object or material in the game can be fused to your arsenal, with a variety of great effects that can make weapons stronger, more durable, or given extra attributes. As an early example, I fused a mine cart to my shield, turning my shield into a skateboard that let me grind on rails like I’m in some Sonic game. Getting elemental weapons is as easy as attaching a special fruit or ore to my weapon, and those are way easier to find than elemental weapons ever were in BOTW. Your arrows are also much more versatile now; attach an enemy’s eyeball to an arrow to make it home in on targets, or a bright bloom seed to light up the Depths from afar. Fuse allows even the weakest of weapons to be useful, which is something that just wasn’t possible in BOTW. I can take a stick and fuse a rock to it to make a makeshift hammer that’s great for breaking open ore deposits or brittle walls, so no more stockpiling rare hammer weapons or waiting on my bomb runes to recharge. It also goes a long way towards making battles more worthwhile to even do, as enemies drop horns and claws that can grant HUGE strength increases to weapons. Before, in BOTW I would eventually avoid fighting late-game enemies because they were too beefy to deal with, as you’d lose multiple weapons in the process and any weapons they dropped weren’t as good. It was a net loss. But now even fighting silver enemies isn’t that bad, since that means I can put that silver moblin horn on some middling spear I found and suddenly that is among my strongest weapons. I have my own qualms about combat in general in this game, but Fuse goes a long way towards making it more fun to experiment and stick with than ever before.

Ascend admittedly is a step down in application, but is still quite good. The fact that it was initially a dev tool should be telling enough. With Ascend, Link can jump up through any ceiling and pop out on top of the structure. Sometimes this is just as simple as going up a floor in a house, or being able to explore a deep, expansive cave and then use Ascend to leave, popping out at the very top of the mountain you found the cave in. In the depths there are even some rare structures that lead all the way back up to the surface that Link can use Ascend on. It honestly breaks traditional level design and so the game had to do a lot of careful restructuring to manage but even then with some application of your other powers, it can be pretty easy to Ascend past areas you’re meant to go through normally. But nothing compares to the power of Recall.

Initially, I thought Recall was a very situational puzzle solver. You aim at an object and can rewind it back roughly 30 seconds or so, but further applications showed that it might be the most broken of the lot. Recall has much more range than any other power, and can affect virtually anything you could also use Ultrahand or Fuse on. I’ve had instances where I’ve built a glider, only to go off course or miss my mark, and I would use Recall as basically a reset button to bring it back to a better position. Enemies dying and leaving their valuable collectibles falling off a cliff can be saved with a button press. What’s more, any movement you did with Ultrahand will be replicated with Recall, so I’ve done that to get vehicles aligned or to rise up platforms I would then Ascend onto to get up high. I’ve even completely broken shrine puzzles with Recall, nullifying any challenge they might have otherwise posed. Some might get a kick out of it, but I felt I kind of optimized the fun out of puzzles to a degree. Regardless, these powers are a lot of fun to mess with and even more versatile than BOTW’s power set was. But while we’re kind of bringing up a negative…I may as well get a bit more critical.

TEARS OF THE FANBOY

I want to stress that, despite my complaints here or there, I adored this game and just DEVOURED it over the last month or so. I put over 245 hours into it, doing almost everything of value. Playing the game for long stretches and having it basically absorb an entire month of my life…I’ll be the first to admit my own experiences and annoyances won’t be shared by many, and for normal people that just play in smaller bursts and don’t care about full completion, they likely won’t have nearly as many issues as I did. But…spending that much time with any one game is going to reveal some of the cracks in it, and those did chip away at my enjoyment a bit.

TOTK is a complex game, with a ton of things the player can do at any given moment, but I do think that Nintendo went a bit too hard on filling this game up with actions you can perform, and then realized they ran out of buttons on the controller along the way. Simply put, some actions are far more cumbersome than they should be. Selecting materials to use, either to throw or attach to arrows is tedious. You hold Up on the D-Pad, then use the right stick to find the item you want, but seeing as there are dozens upon dozens of materials you can use throughout the game, eventually that list becomes harder and harder to parse, leading to a lot of wasted time scrolling to find the exact item you need. You can hit Y to sort by different parameters, but if want you want isn’t near the front, then prepare to spend several seconds scrolling down to find it. A “favorites” option would have been a godsend here; just let me label a handful of items for quick reference. Throwing materials is also awkward, having to first throw your weapon, but then selecting an item with Up on the D-Pad as well. While I appreciate having more options for arrows and the like, the elegance of quickly swapping between arrow types in BOTW is missed here.

Speaking of direct comparisons between these two games…let’s talk Sage Powers. Compared to the Champion Powers from BOTW, these are a massive downgrade in both strength and usability. In TOTK if I want to use a Sage’s ability I have to manually walk over to them and ready them with the A button, then usually hit A again to actually use it. In the heat of the moment having to chase down my AI companions gets old fast, and then aside from that there’s the fact that the A button is already pretty multi-contextual as it is. I’ve had tons of experiences mashing A to grab items on the ground, only for Tulin or Yunobo to walk in front of me and have me accidentally activate their power and blow items away. Looking at the four powers in depth, while they have their uses they’re rarely worth the hassle of using them. Sidon’s water shield and attack is very niche, as ice attacks can do the same things as water, with the added benefit of freezing targets. Riju’s lightning arrows take forever to set up, and aiming Yunobo’s fire spin can be tedious. Tulin is about the only Sage that feels well designed, as more often than not I will always have him around to give me a boost of horizontal movement while gliding. I don’t have to worry about tracking him down, or the A button doing something else most of the time. On the ground though, he has the same issues. I enjoy having the Sages around as AI partners to take some of the heat off of fights, but compared to how simple and effective the Champion Powers were in BOTW, all mapped to different buttons and being next to impossible to accidentally do…it’s pretty disappointing.

There are other things to go over too, some of which already existed as problems in BOTW. Just as in the previous game, climbing wet surfaces is torture. TOTK introduces some solutions but they feel poorly implemented. Players can now make tonics that grant “slip resistance” to climb up wet surfaces more easily…but in practice you’ll barely notice the effects. There’s also an armor set that is said to make you immune to slipping entirely, but that is locked behind a quest chain that can take a while to complete…and then once you get the full set you realize that you need to upgrade all three pieces two times to actually unlock the hidden set bonus to make you completely slip immune. On that same note…upgrading armor is still incredibly tedious, especially when it comes to dealing with any pieces you need from dragons. Horses are also still pretty pointless to use after a point. Without even getting into the fact that they can’t be used in huge chunks of the map, like sandy deserts or rocky mountains, not to mention the sky islands or Depths…being able to build vehicles with Ultrahand basically replaces their only real function as transportation. And yet for whatever reason, whistling for your horse is still mapped onto the D-pad. In a game where they’re clearly hurting for more buttons having one relegated to something I barely even considered using is pretty bad.

I have plenty of issues with combat in the game as well. I know Zelda isn’t a series where action is the main event, but even so the action is typically satisfying in its own way. I’d best describe it as tedious here; enemies are damage sponges, your own attacks send them far away and force you to track them down, and after a certain point the difficulty curve falls apart. I know difficulty is subjective, but both BOTW and TOTK are very strange about balance. The beginning of the game is the hardest, as you have almost nothing. But once you stockpile some meals to heal, armor to up your defense, and materials for fusion the game can’t really do anything to you. I once thought Gleeoks or Lynels were to be avoided, but getting my hands on enough Keese eyeballs to make homing arrows means I can stun them easily and melt through their health as they lay down defenseless. Mastering the parry and perfect dodge also eliminates most options enemies can even do to you. But admittedly, not everyone IS always going to be perfectly prepared for any given fight, or know that certain abilities can just render some enemies a joke. I can tell that balancing a game that is so nonlinear and open-ended is no easy task, but I do think they made players a BIT too strong at points and hope later games can find a better balance. But overall, that’ll mostly do it on the nitpicks.

CONCLUSION

When I beat BOTW, I had wished I could play it through again with my memories wiped, just so I could experience it all again for the first time. Tears of the Kingdom is arguably the next best thing. A twist on something familiar, with some curveballs thrown in for good measure. Link’s new abilities do a lot to spice up how you interact with the world, and there have been some noticeable improvements to the original’s issues, even if some still remain. With this likely being the future of the franchise, at least for now, I’m interested in seeing what lessons Nintendo can take from these two entries. For my money, Nintendo has managed to iterate on one of my favorite games out there and have made it hard to go back. I’m hard pressed to think of too many things BOTW did better, outside of the novelty of being the first game in this new style. I liken BOTW’s strength to being the joy of discovery, the appeal of exploring the unknown. While there are elements of that in TOTK, this time around the focus is on experimentation. Like the joys of playing with a tub of random Lego pieces, being able to adapt to any solution with whatever you have around, bending and breaking the rules of the game world, the end result is unrivaled freedom and depth that will keep people busy well until the next main Zelda.

Until next time,

-B

#tears of the kingdom #totk #breath of the wild #botw #nintendo swich #zleda #link #legend of zelda #video game #review #blog #xbsquaredx

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natandwandaseries · 4 months

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Sorry if it’s a little early, I’m currently on the other side of the planet and have no clue about the time differences.

1. 📚Favorite part of the series?

Post Nat returning from Vormir and realising how important she is.

2. 📅What year did you start reading the series?

I think 2021.

3. 👩‍👩‍👧Favorite character?

Nat forever and always

4. 💯Favorite line?

Don’t think I can pick just one

5. 💃🏽Favorite secondary character?

Laura.

6. 🎬Best scene?

Natasha’s inner monologue when she knows where Wanda is but is struggling post paint factory explosion

7. 🔪Favorite Yelena moment/line?

Her taking over the cleanup post thanos.

8. 📖Favorite Natasha moment/line?

Whenever she tried to right any of her wrong doings whether they were intentional or not.

9. 🪄Favorite Wanda moment/line?

When she is with Peter and their friends acting her own age

10. 🖼️Most underrated scene?

The red room takedown

11. 😭Time the series made you cry

Nat trying to process Bruce’s death

12. 😂Time the series made you laugh

Slip n slide

13.📓Favorite literary reference

I’m afraid to say I’m not sure

14. ⛰️Favorite cliffhanger

Bucky wiping Nat, like I had no idea what he had done to her

15. 💻Scene that made you want to throw your phone/laptop

Honestly… Wanda’s recent reluctance to talk to Nat

16. 🎢Favorite plot/arc

I’m weird and love angst so it may be psychotic for me to say when Wanda found Natasha unconscious in the bathroom & her recovery from that

17. 👯‍♀️Best unexpected duo

Yelena and Tony

18. 🩰Biggest plot twist

Yelena still being alive

19. 🍞Best breadcrumb/foreshadowing

Again I’m struggling to narrow it down without rereading the entire series again

20.❤️Most heartwarming moment

Nat meeting baby cooper

21. 💕 Moment where you think Nat and Wanda became mother and daughter

Is it a cop out to say after their first real conversation

22. ⌛️ Reader’s choice

Don’t know what to say besides Thankyou for your writing as this is my favourite series to read and reread. It was always a struggle to find Natasha centred fics, let alone good, well written ones, so I couldn’t be more grateful! I look forward to every update so I hope you’re able to continue until there’s nowhere else for the story to go.

Thank you for answering every question! I had so much fun reading all of your answers!!

When it Nat learns that she really did save everyone, it was such a big moment for her. She finally had deliverance from her past and decided that she was no longer being a hero to wipe the red from her ledger, but because she wants to. Nat and Laura's relationship has been great to see grow, and how she has stepped into an aunt-like role for Wanda

I spent days researching what it is like being catatonic, and am so glad you enjoyed that scene! It is such a moment of growth for Yelena when she stayed behind to cleanup, we see her stepping into her role on the team not for her sister but for herself. i enjoy the Red Room takedown scene as well, we see just how much power Madame B has exerted over Nat, and how she can overcome it. Bruce's death scene reminds me a lot of the scene where Tony and Pepper give Nat her Spyder, it shows a vulnerable side to Tony. That slip'n'slide is so much fun in real life. I had been building up to Bucky wiping Nat for over a year, I was so excited to finally share it! I want to yell at Wanda while I'm writing so I feel your frustration

I'm working on a mini(ish) fic from Steve's POV (it was supposed to be for the four year anniversary, but life and new chapters got in the way), but I hope to share more of Nat's recovery after Wanda pulled her out from being unconscious Yelena being alive is my favorite plot twist I have written as well, which is part of the reason I picked the ballet slippers as the symbol for this question

Nat meeting baby Cooper melts my heart every time I read it! And not a cop out lol! I believe their first conversation was Nat admitting her past in the food court at the mall

Thank you so much for your replies!! I will continue to post for a while, there is a lot more story to tell for both of our girls! Happy Four Year Anniversary to the Nat and Wanda Series!

#reverse q&a friday #four years of the nat and wanda series

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separatist-apologist · 10 months

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I always want to hear your unsolicited hater thoughts thought 👀🤡

Okay so here are my hater thoughts on King of Wrath. Please just scroll along if you liked this book, I am only speaking for myself.

First of all, when I bought this book, I knew better because I did not like the Twisted series by Ana Huang. I read three of them and quit 3/4ths of the way through with the book with the red head when [spoiler alert] the shitty romantic lead sexually assaulted the FMC for thin plot reasons I no longer care to remember.

But I am SUCH a sucker for an arranged marriage (as we all know), and I was in Kansas City in this three story Barnes and Noble and riding that Taylor Swift high that I let it cloud my better judgement.

My issues:

Dante is literally just two popular tropes in a trench coat. Dark haired and rich are his entirely personality. If you want to be charitable, you could tack on implausibly, compulsively violent. I'm sorry, but Dante is a BILLIONAIRE who was BORN into his wealth (strike one, but I'll let it go for the purposes of romance), in what world is he ACTUALLY killing people?? Be SO serious. This author wanted to give him an air of danger- baby just tell us what he pays his lowest skilled worker! You want me to believe this man is killing his enemies? LMAO I laughed out loud several times when Dante was making his threats.

Vivian is also personality-less. Oh, sure, she WANTS to have a personality but Huang absolutely REFUSES to do any showing. It's all telling. So I'm told Vivian is this badass working girl (not-like-other-girls because unlike all those OTHER heiresses, she WORKS god shut the fuck up- she spent 100k very casually in the course of a day, so like....which is it baby?) making her own way but then Dante shows up acting like the worlds biggest piece of shit and she's like, okay I guess I'll move in with you.

And I know someone is going to come in and say it was the cultural pressure that dragged her into this and I really wanted more of that. It gets touched on but like, so carefully like Huang was too afraid to really commit to her plot. Vivian is Asian-American, and we really dance around what that meant to her. There is a moment right at the end where her mother is discussing why their wealth will NEVER be enough for some people and I was like, oh finally here we go- but the mom is like, you know why. And Vivian is like, yeah, I know why. And that's the end of that! And of course, Dante is never asked to respect any of the cultural differences present, nor does he (threatening to take her dad down AGAIN was just like...oh so you learned NOTHING okay cool).

I think asking readers to believe a modern day arranged marriage was always going to be a tough sell and I wish Huang had really committed to it. She really doesn't, though- Dante is an asshole right up until the very end and one of the things I hate about Huangs MMC's is that they NEVER truly atone for their bad behavior. One of her MMC's stalks the love interest until she breaks down and then Dante is just like, "I miss you" "But I'm still threatening your dad" and Vivian folds like cardboard and ultimately, Dante got everything he wanted and only ever had to treat her well just long enough to get her down the aisle.

The closest this book every came to being self aware is when Vivian is like, we're bad for each other YEAH I AGREE. Like no chemistry AT ALL, the author really relies on Dante being hot (which we're told no less than 8 times a chapter) to do her heavy lifting. The smut is just mid, in my opinion- its not the worst thing, not the best thing, it just is.

Ultimately, Vivian and Dante have no personalities that we aren't told about, even if they directly contradict what we do see. This feels like a book written specifically to market the tropes/whats popular on booktok and so of course it's not good. It's got a few good lines I'll bet she used to market it, but everything in between reads like a first draft.

Would I recommend this? No. If you want to read it, should you? Sure. It's not going to harm you, I think you'll be like me and close it like, "well. thats done". Counts toward my reading goal.

#haters book reviews #mb hate reads #one day ill publish my own book and someone will give me the haters book review treatment #and ill deserve it lol

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basedkikuenjoyer · 1 year

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2022 was certainly a year, and will always be for me a year I occupied some of my free time with an odd little obsessive journey. Taking a closer look at every panel of Okiku in One Piece. Idea being...she does a lot of fun subtle stuff. We’ve talked about folklore, world lit, connections with the rest of Wano and broader series, and all kinds of fun little references. We’ve come back from the from the brink of death together, saved a nation, lost a brother, and taken a nice relaxing bath before blowing off that battle people who are about to leave need to stay away from. I sure hope we see more Okikus along the way, but for the time being these are the 10 y’all liked best.

Under the cut I figured I’d go back and reflect, but first...I’ve had a lot of fun with this. Been an anime fan for like, 20 years now but never had my own little fandom project. Kiku’s special for me; already felt Robin was such a good personal tie but my god does something about a melodramatic prim and proper lady who somehow ended up like that despite a childhood keeping up with a bunch of brother figures resonate.

I love that my favorite is still #1. Spear tackling Kin is just...everything. Especially since we really do not see Kiku lose her composure that often in any circumstance. That was such a clean little early twist too. Just when you think the weird new girl’s going to bow out for a bit she pops back in making herself way more interesting. It’s also a great start to this running theme for her; the first time we see her with another Akazaya she’s putting that childish side on full display. It is kinda odd at the time, right? We’re used to Kin’emon being a major goof and before this Kiku’s been bubbly but incredibly mature. If each Act is a kishotenketsu plot, this right here is the biggest ten, or Yama.

Then in second is the other big one. Rising from a brutal injury. Think this one got a boost from the observation about Kin/Izo’s faces, it being the only time any of them use her full name. But you know...talking faces always kicked myself a little for not mentioning Kiku’s. Girl’s coming off pretty cocky during this segment!

Then...gonna be honest I’ve always been a little shocked about the one of Tsuru throttling Tama ending up #3. Early installment bonus helps and it seems like being a Kiku fan trends with stanning Tsuru. But it’s the early one people really dig. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious. Here’s a thought I had later; initially I said how many times has Kiku seen this type of behavior out of Tsuru? No no no...Kiku’s probably been in Tama’s position getting throttled for being too humble and refusing food hasn’t she? Think a younger Tsuru ever dual wielded the siblings?

Thought it was cute to have a four-way tie for fourth. The three in red and the one of Izo’s grand entrance. Couple of weird ones, the innocuous Law one probably up here for being #100. Sanji, good memorable Akazaya panels. Seems we really enjoy ripping on Sanji here. So with Izo...was he like, perched up there waiting for Usopp to finish his speech? We’ve established these siblings understand the value of dramatic timing.

“DAIMYO!!” Is a classic Akazaya moment, though I like the procession more. And of course...the bath. Like, I’d be upset with y’all if the bath wasn’t on here. 1052 was a highlight of Wano for me. Didn’t really think about this as much before, but it’s interesting to see that shame motif quietly work it’s way in. We know that’s a pretty serious feeling to this group.

#one piece #okiku #every okiku

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likeatlas · 2 years

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Nor there is nothing worse than a know-it-all movie buff. We've all done it, of course. Trash a cheesy blockbuster for its perceived flaws. Finding errors in the logic of a sloppy plot. Propose another ending that would have made much more sense. However, the fact is that we are often not as smart as we think we are. Movies are often more interested in simply telling a story than protecting themselves against pedantic viewers. Sometimes even the widely circulated complaints are totally idle. people see titanica, for example, and asks why Leonardo DiCaprio didn't jump in the door with Kate Winslet at the end. It's enough to make one want to yell, "That's not how buoyancy works!" But sometimes the inconsistencies in the plot are so egregious that they cannot be ignored. These are the ones that really stick in our minds and leave us thinking of any plausible explanations. Even some of the best movies ever made contain some incomprehensible plot inconsistencies, from Citizen Kane until Back to the Future. No matter what explanations people come up with, there is always a lingering feeling that never quite goes away. Here are 15 of the biggest plot inconsistencies in popular movies... The Shawshank Redemption Frank Darabont's prison drama features a famous plot twist, in which it is revealed that the wrongfully imprisoned Andy Drufesne (Tim Robbins) escaped through a Shawshank prison tunnel, concealing his escape route with a poster of Rita Hayworth. But how did he manage to put the bottom of the poster back on after leaving? The Karate Kid In the final act of the 80's classic The Karate Kid, Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) defeats his rival Johnny Lawrence (Billy Zabka) with a sensational kick to the head. However, at the start of the fight it is stated that headbutts are not allowed, per tournament rules, meaning LaRusso should have been disqualified. It's a plot incongruity that was teased in the recent sequel series, cobra kai. karate Kid (1984) was one of the defining films of the popular cinema of the eighties (sony) toy story Much of the first toy story revolves around Buzz Lightyear's (Tim Allen) refusal to accept that he is, in fact, a children's toy. However, if this were the case, why would he play dead every time a human enters the room? It's a plot inconsistency that fans have questioned for years, and no explanation is satisfactory. Armageddon Armageddonthe 1990s sci-fi blockbuster, featured such a blatant plot inconsistency that Ben Affleck mocked in the movie's own DVD commentary: With Earth in grave danger, NASA decides to train a group of drill workers as astronauts, a time-consuming and expensive (and, in reality, unfeasible) task, instead of simply training existing astronauts to operate the drill. "Asked [al director Michael Bay] why it was easier to train oil drillers to become astronauts than it was to train astronauts to become oil drillers,” Affleck said. "He told me to shut the hell up, so that was the end of that conversation." Back to the Future Finding mistakes in the time travel farce perhaps goes against the goofy spirit of the movie. But it's hard to get over one small lingering quibble: why wouldn't Marty McFly's parents notice that his son looked identical to the strange, charismatic teenager who once got them together? Even accepting that it's been decades since they last saw his face, it's hard to believe they wouldn't notice the uncanny similarities. Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly in Back to the Future (Universal Studios) Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King Towards the end of Peter Jackson's nearly 10-hour fantasy trilogy comes an almighty god ex machina, when the forces of good are saved by the arrival of the Great Eagles. But the scene left many viewers wondering: why couldn't the Eagles just take everyone to Mordor in the first place? The apparent incongruity in the plot has generated endless debate among fans of Middle-earth, with counterarguments delving into what is known of the eagle to refute its merits.

But the fact is that for the everyday viewer this was an incredibly simple solution that was ignored by everyone on the screen. Citizen Kane Even a movie as grand and immortal as Citizen Kane it has its weaknesses, and the iconic opening scene is one of them. As Charles Foster Kane perishes alone in his bedroom, he utters the enigmatic word: "Rosebud." The word becomes a riddle that journalists strive to decipher. The only problem? There was no one around to hear him say it. Beauty and the Beast In this classic Disney cartoon, the main beast is portrayed as about to turn 21; that's when the spell becomes permanent. And yet, one of the songs suggests that he has been living as a beast for a full decade, meaning that he was cursed when he was still a pre-teen. Not only does this raise a lot of questions about the circumstances that led to the curse, but it also directly contradicts the portrayal we see of the beast when he was a human and looking quite adult. Beauty and the Beast It was released during the Disney revival in the 90s. (Disney) Ant Man In this Marvel adventure, it is stated multiple times that Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) retains the mass he has at his full size every time he shrinks to the size of an ant. It's what allows him to hit people when he's little. But this raises a lot of inconsistencies about how Ant-Man interacts with the world, especially when his human-sized bulk manages to fly on the back of a normal-sized ant. The Butterlfy Effect This critically poorly received thriller starring Ashton Kutcher was fairly consistent in its understanding of the butterfly effect at points, showing how small changes in a moment in time can have far-reaching consequences. There were flaws though, like the moment Kutcher's character goes back in time to stab his childhood self in the hands, leading him to the exact same circumstance as an adult, only with scars on his hands. . The idea that the experience wouldn't have a major effect on a young man's life is, frankly, ludicrous and clashes with much of what the rest of the film tries to tell. Old M. Night Shyamalan's 2021 sci-fi drama about a beach that makes people age rapidly was twisted, funny, and original. It's a bit of a shame, therefore, that the film's ending hinges on one of the weirdest plot contraptions in recent years. Shyamalan's own character, tasked with monitoring the beach's victims from afar, decides to pack up his gear and leave when the last two people go underwater for only a couple of minutes, apparently deciding no one could survive that long. After watching them for many hours, suddenly he can't waste another minute to make sure? It's a hilarious moment in an otherwise thought-provoking and deeply disturbing film. Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) and Trent (Alex Wolff) in Old (Universal Studios) Star Wars: The Force Awakens Throughout its dozen films, the Star Wars franchise boasted its fair share of plot inconsistencies and unintentional hidden details, though one moment The Force Awakens from 2015 especially outraged fans. When Rey (Daisy Ridley) and the gang return from Starkiller Base after Han Solo's death, General Leia (Carrie Fisher) rushes to give him a sad and heartbroken hug, completely ignoring Chewbacca, her friend of decades and Han's ex-con. Past is history, I guess. The Dark Night Rises Although the film had its ardent supporters, there was a lot about Christopher Nolan's 2012 trilogy, The Dark Knight Rises, which felt a bit half-baked. Whether it's the entire police force being lured in and trapped underground, or the fact that internationally famous billionaire Bruce Wayne was able to fake his death and live his life unrecognized, the inconsistencies run so deep in this movie that you could follow them to the batcave. The Dark Night Rises ended Christopher Nolan's successful Batman trilogy (Warner Bros) Black Panther After T'Challa (Chadwick Boseman) is nearly killed in a fight with Erik Kilmonger (Michael B.

Jordan), he falls into a river and floats downstream until a fisherman pulls him out of the water. However, we later learn that the tribe that finds it is a vegetarian, so what are they fishing for? A Quiet Place While it's arguably one of the best studio horrors of recent years, A Quiet Place has been teased for some of its smaller details, like the chalkboard with the words "How many in the area?" scrawled in huge letters. A rather glaring inconsistency occurs halfway through the film, when the family goes to a nearby waterfall and they can yell at each other without the noise of the water breaking being detected. Any sensible person would look at that and say... why not get closer to the waterfall? I guess some people like quiet. This article was originally published in May 2022

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spideyjimin · 2 years

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spideyjimin's masterlist

key; ☁️ = fluff | ⚡️= smut | 🥀 = angst

⟶ marry me, yoongi ☁️ ; ⚡️

established relationship au

⏤ when yoongi decides to get married in vegas after all the fan’s comments on the vlives.

ONE-SHOT

⟶ first christmas ☁️

parents au

⏤ this year, you spend your first christmas as a family of four. nothing brings more happiness to your heart than seeing your husband, namjoon with your seven months old son, hyeon.

ONE-SHOT

⟶ plot twist ☁️ ; ⚡️

friends with benefits au

⏤ jimin loves you more than you’ll ever know, and you love him more than you’ll ever show. what a tragedy.

ONE-SHOT

⟶ beast ☁️ ; 🥀 ; ⚡️

established relationship au

⏤ taehyung doesn’t like your best friend, he truly never did. kibum has always been too flirty with you, something he never liked. but this time, seeing him flirting with you at his birthday party was too much, and he felt the urge to make you understand that you’re only his.

ONE-SHOT

⟶ valentine's date ☁️ ; 🥀 ; ⚡️

fake dating au

⏤ Every year, on the 13th of February, your family gathers together to celebrate love, it’s your own kind of Valentine’s Day before the actual day. This year is going to be different because, for the first time in years, you’re single but your parents pressured you to find someone otherwise they’ll bring someone for you. Although you love your parents, and you know this comes as a caring act, you don’t trust their tastes. So, you propose to your coworker, Jungkook, to come with you to save you from embarrassment. But nothing goes as planned since both of you have feelings for the other.

⟶ only you 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

established relationship au

⏤ after a traumatic event, your world flipped upside down, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. an emptiness that has been eating you completely for the past year, but in the middle of the chaos that has become your life, there has been one person who has never left you. the only person that can fix you. jungkook.

⟶ love in the dark 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

forbidden romance au

⏤ being the heir of the empire his family built over the years was something jungkook never liked, all the constraints that came with it never pleased him. his entire life, he played the rebellious child, never listening to a word his parents would say. but marriage was a topic prepared since the day he was born, he has to marry a woman his parents will choose. no one else. so he has to love you in secret, or as he says, in the dark.

⟶ taxi ☁️ ; ⚡️

parents au

⏤ in which a simple valentine’s dinner turns into a very steamy teasing session in the backseat of a taxi with the father of your baby, jungkook

⟶ break up with your boyfriend 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

college au

⏤ jungkook, the campus fuckboy, has decided to make you his next victim, but you’re far from being like any of his previous hookups. you’re not single. you’re actually in a very long-term relationship with baekhyun, the man you consider the love of your life. but it’s for sure something that won’t stop jungkook. he wants you, and he’s going to do absolutely everything to have you, even falling in love.

⟶ seven ☁️ ; ⚡️

⏤ jungkook never grows tired to be fucking you right every day of the week, and even more than once per day.

SERIES

⟶ crazy over you 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

rockstar au

⏤ after a year of being friends with benefits with jungkook, you decide to put an end to it and to start looking for love. only problem: jungkook is falling for you.

↳ part of the devil lovers series

⟶ timing 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

exes to lovers au

⏤ falling in love with the right person at the wrong time but what happens when the time becomes right?

SERIES

⟶ the devil lovers 🥀 ; ☁️ ; ⚡️

rockstar au

⏤ “Devil Lovers”, one of the biggest rock bands of the moment, is composed of seven awkward lovers.

#bts #bts masterlist #spideyjimin’s masterlist

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haneq · 2 years

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Getting real tired of people, so I'll just write this here. Hiding the text behind ''read more'', but basically this is addressed to all fanfic writers and then whiny readers who lack the ability to read the tags/warnings/description/whatever-the-fuck before they consume ''traumatizing'' content. Or really any content online.

And just to spite you, I'm not gonna put any warnings here. Because that's how you operate anyway when it comes to consuming fancontent, now isn't it?

First of all, to all my fellow fanfic writers, you are wonderful.

I think all of you are creative in your own ways, and I'm glad you're expressing yourselves through stories. And you're also very brave for putting up your stories online to be read by other people, and not just leaving it to gather dust on your harddrive. You guys rock!

You know, the best thing about fiction is that it's not real. Literally. Sure you can argue about effects of fiction on reality, yadda yadda, and to some extent yeah, but here's a few important words.

Just writing about something doesn't mean you endorse this thing in real life, or that you're the type of person you write about.

Yeah before anyone starts saying how fucked up it is to write stories about getting it on with dragons or eating shit as part of some cult stuff that you came up for your setting - yeah, it might be, but does it make it wrong to write? Cut up the thought police act and listen.

You know Berserk? The manga/anime series? Yeah, that shit is fucked up. Guy slashing giant monsters and creepy fuckers to bits with his giant-ass sword while these aforementioned monsters eat, kill, or rape people, or all three at the same time.

It's also a beloved series with a dedicated fanbase, with many left to mourn the author's passing last year.

Now, you know what Berserk is about? Do you think the author (Kentaro Miura) would have been the type of person to wish these giant monsters would become real and kill everyone that has ever lived and then he wished that this giant Egg of the Perfect World would help bring everything to ruin? That he actually rooted for people like Griffith, even though he made the biggest plot-twist backstabbing event in the history of anything ever?

People love (to hate) Griffith. People love Berserk. People love Kentaro Miura still, as well as the work he left behind. He was just a man who loved to draw and do his story (though arguably I understand the fans' frustration of not getting continuation for a long time). I hope one day all of you will get a satisfying conclusion to the story.

Now, take all this, and observe fanfiction people do. Very few of these people are actually professional authors, more like amateurs who just want to let their ideas flow on paper after long school or work days. And even if they were, I think it's awesome that they still write stuff online - not even for others, but for themselves.

You can help people get better as writers by offering tips or just giving criticism in a nice way. Telling someone to die is never alright.

Writing is for yourself, or rather that's how it should be. You don't have to write shit that you don't care about. Do you think Kentaro Miura would have wanted to write about a wholesome story about a happy-go-lucky protagonist meeting up a gang of friends and conquering the ultimate evil?

If he did, we wouldn't have Berserk.

When people make fanfic, they usually allow comments, which is a bit different system compared to ''professional'' writing. Comments should be used to lift people up or give constructive criticism, not give death threats or call people names when you don't know a damn about them irl.

When you go to bookstore or library, you see the cover of the book, and can read synopsis on the back. What you won't see are the warnings and individual tags for triggering content. When you open a book and read it, only to discover that you don't like it, what do you do? Well, any sane individual would close the book and say ''fuck this, I'll look for something else''. If you bought the book, you'd probably gift it to someone else or sell it forward.

You are allowed to dislike a story. You are allowed to hate story. You are allowed your own opinion on the contents.

But this doesn't mean that you can go around assuming what kind of people the authors are. You call someone a ''psychopath'', ''rapist'', ''freak'' - you really think that you can call yourself a respectable person while at it? I've read fanfics all my life, and only on autumn 2020 did I have the courage to write my own shit online. Before that, I have 50+ story documents on my harddrive, only for myself, many of them finished. FIFTY. And I've been writing my own stuff since 2010 (officially I did my first story on 2008, but I never finished it and I wasn't 100% into writing back then).

Even as a kid, I was ashamed of stuff I wrote for myself, when I was the only one seeing them. Keep in mind, my stories were wholesome adventures with a handful of sad scenes, yet I was still afraid to show anyone. I still am, to this day - though mostly because kid-me's writing was extremely simple lol.

Someone bravely uploaded something online, be it for themselves, their friends, for everyone online, or their grandma - doesn't matter, they did it anyway. And I've read my fair share of ''bad'' fanfics - be it personal taste or just writing style that didn't click. You know what I did back then, even as a cringy, awkward, dumb kid?

I fucking clicked away.

When I first found mature fanfiction, and saw the warnings, I was aware what I was gonna read. And surprise surprise, I did see it in the fic itself. Did I complain to mommy about some mean internet person having written a properly tagged story that had clear warnings? No, I shrugged my shoulders and either continued reading, or moved on.

People who write detective stories are not necessarily detectives themselves. People who write RPG-inspired fantasy stories are not heroes with swords and a power of friendship and plot armor. People who write about series of murders are not murderers. People who write about abuse are not abusive.

You can argue that yeah, some are - how the hell would you know? I think someone writing about a detailed murder for fifty chapters wouldn't update much in favor of actually being out to, you know, murder people.

Think about any of the mainstream shows you people love. A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones for example. You think it would be as big as it is today if everyone kept on crying about how George R. R. Martin was normalizing and supporting incest and underage sex and what else? Sure, there are always people who do, but if you were to complain to someone about the series and how the author/director/actors endorse the themes by being associated? They'd laugh their heads off for your stupidity.

Write what you want. It can be cute and wholesome and nothing ever goes wrong in the world of rainbows and ponies. It can be about a guy who murders women before raping their corpses because he got cheated on by his previous girlfriend who left him for some guy. It can be even about both, murder and abuse and what else in colourful setting, people of Eternally Happy Village stabbing each other every Thursday because why not.

Those who use Archive of Our Own aka AO3, you know how tags and warnings work. Before you start bitching about seeing your hated ship or even your most disliked trope at your full view, how about you actually, you know... blacklist the fucking tags and warnings? There is literally a little useful thing on the right where you can put what you don't want to see. Hell, you can blacklist authors too. It's not that difficult.

Also, AO3 especially has a neat little thing that stops you before you go into a fic, telling you it contains this and that and to proceed, you gotta click it. If you do, then sucks to be you - you opened a bag containing a dead dove, even when the bag was labeled ''Dead Dove: Do Not Eat''.

Keep on writing. Keep on creating. Hell, this doesn't even have to be about just fanfics, even when I've mainly talked about that. Any artform is acceptable. World of fiction is limitless, and you all are a wonderful part of it.

Those who cannot recognize that fiction is not reality, are not living in reality. They are living in the fiction. Touch some grass and move on.

We don't owe you shit. You only get a momentary power high from shitting on someone else based on their work. Criticism is one thing, being a dick is a fucking choice.

And if you wonderful fanfic writers read this far, I wish from the bottom of my heart to keep on creating. I'm sorry if you've ever faced any sort of harassment, but know that I'm always on your side. Don't give in to the hate - haters are air to us, and should be treated as such. (Oh no accidental rhyme lmao)

And final words:

Just writing wholesome content doesn't make you a good person.

Just writing dark content doesn't make you a bad person.

Only your actions define you in this world, and not the one that doesn't exist. Keep your head in the clouds but your feet on the ground.

You deserve happiness, and to not have anyone take it from you.

And for all you tumblr people who do callout posts complaining about fics/ships/whatever-that-doesn't-exist to their five followers - lol. Just lol. You know who you are, and I certainly know you. And you all disgust me, go cry about it.

Now excuse me, I'm off to write yet another ''despicable'' piece of fiction to add to my growing fanfic collection.

#pro-fiction #dark fiction #fiction is not reality #writing #art #vent #fanfiction #dead dove do not eat #might contain typos because it's two am and I'm angry #fandom discourse #anti-harassment #fiction positivity #idiots who don't read tags don't deserve to be on ao3 #idiots who ignore warnings don't have the right to complain #idiots who only see fics on site but can ignore them by scrolling past yet complain... what the fuck are you doing with your lives my dudes #proship #kinda #sorry I didn't talk much about proshipping but this all still applies you all #I usually don't make writing posts by myself but I'm too fedup rn #and before anyone comes to complain to me about what i said here or write overall #lmao as if you'd know me #if you did you wouldn't have balls to say anything to my face #fuck cancel culture #fuck it to hell

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twistedtummies2 · 2 years

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Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary - Number 20

Welcome to Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary! Over the course of May, I will be counting down My Top 31 Favorite Performances by my favorite actor, the late, great Sir Christopher Lee, in honor of his 100th Birthday. Although this fine actor left us a few years ago, his legacy endures, and this countdown is a tribute to said legacy! We’ve arrived at the Top 20. Today’s Subject, My 20th Favorite Christopher Lee Performance: Mr. Corrigan, from House of Long Shadows.

“House of the Long Shadows” is a horror-comedy movie styled in the vein of a classic, good ol’ fashioned murder mystery. It’s a bit similar to movies like “Clue” or “Knives Out,” with a blend of humor and dark, violent deception, a cast of colorful characters, and a plot filled with all kinds of odd twists and turns. What sets “Long Shadows” apart from other murder mystery movies, however, is a combo of two elements: one is the fact it’s one of the few good movies released by Cannon and Golan-Globus productions, the infamous minds behind films like “Superman IV: Quest for Peace,” “Masters of the Universe,” and “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.” (pauses) What? I think that’s pretty impressive to point out. These guys released so much crud, the fact they distributed ANY good movies is worth stating. :P But seriously, the biggest boon this film has is its cast: as well as a classic murder mystery movie, the film serves as a sort of tribute to Gothic chillers of the 1960s and 1970s, starring four of the greatest actors of the genre still alive at that point, all already old masters at the time. Those four are Vincent Price, Peter Cushing, John Carradine…and, of course, Sir Christopher Lee. The plot focuses on a mystery writer, Kenneth Magee (played by Desi Arnaz, Jr.), who makes a bet with his publishers that he can write a good book in less than a day. For inspiration, he makes his way to a typical spooky old mansion and encounters numerous odd and mysterious characters there. Soon, murder is afoot, and Magee and the rest have to try and stay alive and find the killer before it’s too late. Carradine plays Lord Elijah Grisbane, the head of the household and the first (possibly indirect) victim, whose death acts as a major inciting incident to the plot. Price and Cushing, meanwhile, play his sons, Lionel and Sebastian. Grisbane also has a daughter, Victoria, played by Sheila Keith. Lee’s character is a bit of a latecomer to the story, as he enters the plot about halfway through the film: he’s called Mr. Corrigan, a stern, stiff, strict businessman who is planning to buy the estate and use it as a building site. He is utterly bewildered when he finds all the people present at the old dark house, as he was under the impression it had been abandoned for years. It's after Corrigan enters the plot that the story starts to get especially interesting, as it’s revealed the Grisbanes are holding a dark secret about their family…and, as you might expect, it’s this secret that leads to the series of gruesome murders that follows shortly thereafter. The mystery itself, and the many different spins the plot takes as it goes on, provide plenty of creepy and decadent fun, but the real joy of the picture lies in the four great actors bouncing off one another in their respective roles. Considering three out of four of them were best friends in real-life, it makes the chemistry between them all particularly delicious, and the ways their different characters interact and fit into the grand tapestry of the story is absolutely wonderful to behold. If you’re a Christopher Lee fan, or a fan of any of these actors, or heck, even just a fan of murder mystery stories in general, this is absolutely a film you have to check out. Tomorrow I shall present my Number 19 pick!

#sinister centenary #christopher lee #happy birthday christopher lee #top 31 christopher lee performances #number 20 #corrigan #house of long shadows #may special #actors #acting #movies #films #horror

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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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interact-if · 3 years

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Day 10, 2/2 of the A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! For our final entry, we have the amazing Shai!

Shai, author of Hollowed Minds

A/PI Heritage Month Feature Author

“You will play as a disgraced detective, entangled in webs of conspiracies and betrayal as your character engages in a suspicious probation - with a whole lot of enigmatic hallucinations and explosions to deal with. It will be up to you to shape your detective’s (or Ripper’s, if you prefer to call them that) perception and motivations. After all, Gaile City is a place full of secrets - some of them belonging to your own character’s family - and you’ll have the freedom how to act accordingly.”

Author's Kofi

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

To put it simply, Hollowed Minds is a long quest on morality and relationships. You'll start as a disgraced detective, once a favored hero of the city until this one unfortunate mistake, and now you're forced into a suspicious probation that you shouldn't even be in. There would be a lot of challenges and suffering along the way, and you can either help your character maintain their heroic ideals or succumb to the darkness that the future brings.

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

There are a lot of things to uncover in the story, but the main issues in the first book would be the mysterious hallucinations that people are suffering from and the explosions that would shake the fundamentals of the society. There would be several approaches to choose from as you go forward, some of which may be quite outside the law, and you could opt to use a certain ‘talent’—one with accompanying repercussions—to learn more secrets. You would also have the choice to cultivate your relationships with the people you trust the most and have your interactions with them matter in the long run.

As it is, you'd have a large target on your back, owing to a sinister group with a very sinister plan—something that might be worse than death.

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

First of all, the reputation system. You can manipulate how the general public would see you, either as the hero they once saw you as, or a corrupted personality that everyone would loathe. Best thing about it? You can hide your real intentions. This would have a lot of interesting consequences, especially if your character's actions tend to be the opposite of what they're perceived as.

Second, the most awaited reunion. People who have read the available demo would know what this refers to, and well, it's about to happen soon, so I'm very excited about the idea of writing the whole scene!

Then there's this one big chapter that I know would be torturous to write and code. Basically, you'll be choosing how to 'infiltrate' this certain location, the person whom you'd be with most of the time, a decision between accomplishing what you came there for or sacrificing it for something else, how you'd get out, and where you'd go to after the whole thing. It will be a wild ride of twists and emotions, and it's not even the endgame. A lot may change with this chapter alone, and it's one of those things I think about a lot before going to sleep.

Lastly, the customization of the main character. The motivations, blame mechanic, alcoholic/non-alcoholic option, and relationships (romantic or not). Those little details would change a lot of content in the narrative and maybe in the plot itself. Whether you want to build a character who's kind to a fault or an anti-hero who wouldn't hesitate to make questionable decisions, the journey would be entirely yours.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

It was based from a short story of mine that won a small competition back in 2018. They share similar themes, but the short story was a lot darker than I could ever put in a game that I plan to get published.

I initially thought of starting my IF writing attempts with the supernatural genre—it does seem to be a successful area—but that short story was probably the first piece of mine that I've come to appreciate, and I wanted to at least honor that. The writing style that I adopted, the evocative tone I learned to use, and the plot pieces that I've managed to be good at crafting—they all started with that story.

Looking back, there aren't much similarities anymore between the two, maybe aside from the appearance of certain characters, but the themes are still the same.

It will definitely be a huge challenge to implement what I have on mind, but I do hope people would love what's to come.

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

I grew up in a troublesome neighborhood, along with people who continue to fight against the struggles. That's both good and bad, I suppose. Philippines has a lot of corruption deep in its roots, I won't deny that, but there are also people working hard for the changes they want. That's one of the biggest influences I've got in this story.

As we delve into the plot, the readers would discover more questionable decisions that some characters may have made or would make. It's parallel to how I witnessed people having differing reactions to injustice and the way they make changes in their lives as a response. Adding to that, I personally know the feeling of grief, and I’ve seen how the people around me deal with it themselves.

There are also moral choices to be had in the game, and when I speak of that, it's not going to be just around choosing between saving/killing people. It's about the main character's intentions and emotions, and how the revelations might slowly change their views. It would be a story that will steadily define your character’s perceptions amid the threats.

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing, with the if community...

It's been great. I appreciate the people who have reached out in various ways to share their love for my work and to give meaningful feedback that are continuously helping me shape the story in a better way. And honestly, I'm so overwhelmed with excitement for all the support I'm getting. I didn't even expect a lot of people to like the story this early. That's why I'm so thankful!

There's also a great IF author whom I've been occasionally getting advice from, and they've been a huge reason as to why I even managed to make the first steps. Interacting with other writers is something that I never really expected myself to do, but I’m quite glad I did it.

Q6: Do you have any future projects in the works?

There are three more interactive fiction stories I've already thought of, though I won't be actively working on them until I finish the Hollowed Minds series, which would take a long while. Their temporary titles are respectively "Corrupted Legacies" (fantasy), "The Remnant's Keeper" (supernatural horror), and "A Hero's Touch" (superhero story with a twist).

Aside from that, I'm also looking forward to finishing my fantasy novel, one that I've been delaying for years, literally, as soon as I finish the first book of Hollowed Minds.

Q7: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

Write what you want to write. I know that you're all probably tired of hearing this, but it is still very important. During the planning stages, you'd most likely be excited to show the readers what you've got in store. You'd be proud of it, and you'd believe that it's one of the most brilliant ideas out there. Then a few days after you finish planning, you'll realize it may not attract as much readers as you may have expected initially. Then you'll get tempted to change your visions for the story and adopt the plot lines that the famous works have.

Do not abandon your own vision.

It's your work. It's your masterpiece. Listen to feedback, sure, and let them guide you into becoming a better writer, but do not let go of the things that made your work your own. Some way or another, there will be people who would love your story, and they'd deeply appreciate that you made it the way it is.

So don't hesitate. Is it weird? Is it unconventional? Does it belong to a genre that's not as popular as the others? It doesn't matter. Write it, polish it, and show it to the world.

People will love it as long as you do.

#if: events #Happy Asian and Pacific Islander month!!#Asian/pacific islander month 2021 #a/pi month #a/pi month 2021 #aapiheritagemonth #aapi month #interactive fiction #authors of color

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xfeliciahardyx · 3 years

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Summary: What happened in the bakery changed you. The next few years would force you to harden and build so many walls that you vowed to never let anyone in. You can probably guess what happens when a certain soldier starts to scale those walls so that he can get to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mention of blood, intense details about ww2, side character deaths, traumatic backgrounds, mention of Nazis, mentions of broken bones and bullet wounds, children suffering due to the war, imprisonment in a concentration camp, someone does get stabbed, and angst (Warnings will be added as the story continues if need be. This is just for the first chapter!)

Taglist: ~Here~ (Feel free to add yourself to any other categories!)

Word Count: 9k

Author's Note: Okay everyone reading I first want to say thank you for reading my imagine. There are some things that I need to clarify before you start reading this. The entire series will be me going through the Captain America movies. It first starts at The First Avenger and continues through the places in time where Bucky is and where he is not OoOoOoO plot twists. But yes this can be overwhelming to read because some details are VERY graphic. i did use techniques from my medical skills class so all the medical procedures are researched and correct. Please enjoy The Winter Soldier and The White Feather or as I like to call it WSWF

The war was changing you and everyone around you. It was making kind people turn green and bad people even worse. You learned that the hard way of course. When you’d had been taken to the facility you didn’t know what to expect. Now you had been in it for God knows how long and you didn’t know what would happen. You had no way of contacting your family. Of contacting anyone you knew really. You were lost, scared, hoping for a savior that didn’t seem to be appearing. Lost traveling in a fog ridden meadow without any sense of direction. It killed you to see how many people died and suffered at the hands of the Germans, but your screams were of no use. The way they treated everyone was as horrible as a cat chasing a mouse. Like you were the filth on their boots, the scum of the earth. Any time someone said something to them they’d react as if a fire touched their skin and recoil away. They acted as if they didn’t have enough money to feed anyone properly. The food was sure to break several health codes back in the city but that didn’t seem to stop you all from eating it. If it wasn’t stale bread that you could knock someone out with, it was week old soup that had hints of green to it. The water was as piss pore and was a dull gray. Not your best moments or the biggest feast for the holidays but it was for survival. It was meant for you to get on through the day and do as you’re told. The inmates had started to call it the end of the world. You didn’t blame them because it was. That didn’t stop them from constantly complaining about every little thing. You on the other hand couldn’t give a fuck. It was like every single one up and flew away with the happiness that had been your life in France. You couldn’t even speak after the horrors the world and slammed into your life. You avoided everyone and everything that lived, scared and desperate to stay hidden. It was the way to go and others followed your lead. You weren’t one to speak or do anything with another person and the others around you knew it. So, they cleared their distance and you appreciated it. You had never been one to stay quiet for long around people. Eventually you’d try to get to know them. But you had changed just as times had. Even now you knew to keep your cool and to keep up with your manners. At any minute they could kill you. Or they could do something to shatter your already scarred mind. You knew you weren’t like the people who decided to suck up to them. Kissing the floor, they walked on for a little bit of clean water, or a bowl of soup that was freshly made. They were horrible to the suck ups and laughed at them as they did their best to seem appealing. You would never stoop as low to be a person who supported the people who had made this sad reality your life. Despite everything your parents had done to you, you always managed kindness. The girl who was secretly the crush of every guy because of her brains. The kind of girl that went to the library in her free time. The girl who never dated because she claimed she wanted to focus on school but could never know how to talk to guys. Went to the movies with her one friend who she cared about more than anything. The girl who made life positive because her family had always made it negative. Yes, you were over all kind but when you needed to be you could be as sharp as a spear. So, why did they kidnap you? It was simply a case of being at the wrong place in the wrong time. But that didn’t excuse their actions following the moments they walked in that bakery with their rifles held high and their voices screaming in curses. Why did they have to kill one of the most important people in your life right in front of you? Shot her straight through the heart at the bakery around the block from the school. All because she was Jewish. Their logic didn’t explain why they had the right to take her life. Her younger siblings had been complaining about food and you had an extra food stamp to use. You’d despised the stars they had to wear on their chest that prohibited them from having the normal things every person

needs. You all had practically skipped to the bakery in hopes that they’d have chocolate. It was a nice moment thinking that everything was back to normal. She had only been 21 and you 20. That was 3 years ago. Even so long after you could still imagine the events that had occurred. Her blood had splattered all over your polka dotted yellow dress. All she had asked for was food for her siblings. Sure, sweets would have been kind but you were all hungry in general. When the soldiers had come in, they’d been attracted to her star. You should have been on guard more, but you’d been naive to think they wouldn’t harm them. One had grabbed Ciera and pushed himself against her. In her reaction she’d kicked the German away and his comrade shot her. Her siblings that had been clinging to your side as they shot her cried out for their sister as she dropped to the ground. Siblings that had their throats slit as they clung to your arms. You had begged for their lives. They were just two children. You thought they would have a little mercy. You knew you would take care of them for their sister. You tried to explain that Tommy and Cassandra had been hungry, and their sister had been killed right in front of them. The trauma they had suffered was enough for their minds to endure. All of what was happening was enough to make anyone mad. It was necessary that they cry and mourn. But as heartless as they were, they showed no remorse. That two children crying for their dead sister would never and hadn’t stopped the Germans. They’d ripped the children from your hands and pressed their silver knives to their throats killed them. You wanted to fight for them. You loved them like your own siblings. They didn’t deserve the fate that had been handed to them. The third soldier had held your arms behind your back to stop you from tearing them away. You had tried to fight him, but you knew he wouldn’t let go. You watched the blood slip from their throats, and you sagged against the soldier. He had been the kinder of the three. A recruit perhaps. You didn’t realize until later that he’d held you in his embrace throughout the car ride to the place where you’d be transported. The screams that left their mouths still haunted you and you saw their terrified faces in your dreams. Sometimes they would come together as a group. Other times Tommy would visit you with blood seeping from his throat asking you for his sisters. You blamed yourself for not fighting hard enough. You watched as the life left your eyes when you knew it should have been you. You should have been dead on the ground with them as they lay dead next to their sister on the ground. Yes, life was unfair. But if life was unfair than war was no comparison.

“Gurl!” A German soldier yells pointing his finger to a spot in front of him. Most of them could barely speak English and when they did it was so slurred. Half the times you had to watch their hand motions to understand what they wanted. His eyes are locked on you from your spot by the back of the courtyard. It was a quiet place that everyone avoided because of the sun that would beam on you. They preferred the shade, but you just needed the quiet heat to cleanse your mind. You cursed and grabbed onto the chain fence behind you to lift yourself up. It bent with your weight but you knew it wouldn’t break. It was a trashy fence that if you tried to climb, you’d either be shot down or just get so scratched that you’d just end up doing more harm than good. The fence traveled around the vast courtyard that was rundown and brown. The fence had rust in certain spots from when it rained but it never did anything for the concrete. Blood stains covered the floor from where prisoners had been shot and dragged away. There were splatters and puddles all over the already dirty floor. Even on the ground leading into your cells you’d find the lengthened blood beneath your feet. The courtyard was the only time you got to see the outside world. They also had a calendar on the wall that told you what day it was. You weren’t sure why but maybe it was to bring down the spirits of everyone. You on the other hand had been there for 3 years 2 months and 25 days. Since the beginning of the German’s invasion of France. It was made up of mock punching bags filled with paper plates and hard pillows that no dared to sleep on. People sat in cliques all around speaking in different languages. Most of them spoke French and in your time there you’d picked up bits of other languages. Nothing too major but just enough to understand.

“Ve dount ave foreevare vittle gurl.” He yelled again and you picked up your pace. You didn’t want to do anything to cause any more attention to yourself. His accent sent prickles of fear up your spine and the hairs on your arms stood on end. As you walked by a few whispers drafted into your ears and people glanced away. Being called over by a soldier wasn’t a good thing and people avoided it as much as they could. There was always the possibility of someone getting shot or having to do something you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to do. So, the terror that was filling up your mind with endless possibilities wasn’t a fun thing. Anxiety tightened the space in your chest and your throat was constricted with worry. You stopped a few steps in front of the soldier who towered over you and said nothing as his eyes trailed over your body. Once upon a time you would have blushed and shifted awkwardly where you stood but now you stand still and stare straight at the wall behind the soldier to avoid eye contact. The mic on his shoulder beeps and he holds out a finger to you. You don’t respond and continue to stare straight ahead. He responds to the German voice in his native language rapidly and you fiddle with your hands behind your back. You could feel the tension rising around the two of you and it wasn’t good. His eyes had begun to harden more, and his posture grew rigid. His eyes darted around the dirt filled courtyard until he turned around and stared at a man. He had been beat up. On his eye was a purplish hue with hints of green. You saw a small limp in his walk as you turned your head in his direction. He stopped and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed a pair of tags dangling around his neck. The green Henley he wore was matted and had spatters of dried blood. His pants hung off his body, still fitting but with tears. Looking from the outside in he looked just as bad as every other prisoner of war. He had an unreadable expression as he surveyed his surroundings. You caught a small calculating look in his eyes as he scanned people that walked by. His eyes caught yours and your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t just stare at you from afar. He seemed to bare your soul out in front of everyone to see. His gaze was intense, and a hint of curiosity was in his dark eyes. The soldier beside you muttered something into his radio and your gaze snapped away from the handsome stranger and you turned back at attention. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your mind even as the soldier gave you your new group to follow to your cells. Everyone was given a number when they were placed in the camp. Each cell was alphabetized and most of the time people didn’t even pay attention to them. They did it to give themselves a feel of control. The only one you didn’t follow. You didn’t say anything back to him and when he dismissed you, you promptly walked back to your spot. You didn’t want to turn your head in the direction of the stranger you knew was walking over to you. You wanted to disappear, and you knew the moment he talked to you your tough exterior would break. There was something different about the way his head was held high and his shoulders never slumped. You could practically feel his confidence from across the courtyard and out of your peripheral vision. You slid down the fence with a sigh as you put your head in your knees. You took a few breaths to keep yourself calm as a pair of shoes came into view. They were brown and matted and looked like they’d seen better days.

“You okay?” a voice followed. It was low and soft, but it sent shivers down your spine. You slowly raised your eyes up the body that was wearing them, and your eyes widened in surprise where the man from before stood in front of you. He’s much taller than you initially realized and his eyes a deeper brown. He stares down at you with worry and you just stared at him not knowing what to do. He was around your age and it was rare you found anyone your age and that spoke a language you could speak. Sure, there were people who spoke your language and had tried to talk to you. Soon enough they stopped coming around because staying in a group too long would strike fearing the people because they wouldn’t want the Germans thinking new company meant rebellion. He moved to your side and carefully slid down the steel fence. You stared ahead at the people who stood in the middle of the courtyard.

“So, you people watch.” The stranger says motioning to the people in front of you both. You nod without looking at him keeping a close eye on the people in front of you. Something felt wrong about the gathering. It wasn’t anything good. Someone was shoved across into another person and you heard the stranger suck in a breath. He felt the sudden shift too and he pointed a finger towards a short man in broken glasses. His eyes flipped from each side of the courtyard where the two soldiers stood. His hands were clasped together, and his feet were headed in the direction of the crowd. You nudged your elbow into your newfound companions’ arm tilting your chin up in the direction of the people. The air felt stiff in the courtyard more than normal as the crowd began to step into a circle the short man now joining them. The soldiers seemed to notice it too because their gazes were hardened, and their guns were pointed. Your heart began to pound as you knew what was coming next. It haunted you every night ever since you had seen it the day you’d been kidnapped and taken to this camp. The images of Ciera’s body falling to the ground flashes through your vision and you shake your head, feeling your heart squeeze. The screams of her siblings were in the wind you closed your eyes tight and took in a deep breath. They were screaming out orders in German, but the group paid them no mind. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands rubbed against your rugged jeans completely lost to your nightmares that were coming to life. You opened your eyes slowly and looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing what was going down. A few other small groups of people watched from afar with dead eyes, but none made a move to assist. Your eyes were locked on the German soldier directly across from you that was walking towards the group. With each footstep your breathing became faster and your mind screamed for them to heed the warnings the Germans were giving. The group was large and growing by the minute which in the eyes of your captors was a bigger threat. The German nudged one of the people in the group with his gun and what happened next you had never expected. The stringy thin man with blood hair who had been poked spun around and stabbed the soldier in the neck with a foreign object and someone screamed. His hands went to his throat and he dropped his gun. The man dove for it as the soldier fell slowly bleeding out on the concrete. Everything was chaos as the gun dropped and a single bullet escaped from its chamber. The bullet flew across the courtyard and your eyes flew with it watching it impale a single child.

“No!” you screamed bolting up from your place by the fence. The soldiers burst into action firing down anyone who had been in the huge crowd. Everyone went running towards the inside of the prison, trying to avoid the bullets. It was pure chaos as people from everywhere were getting shot as they tried to escape the rage of the soldiers. There were screams of all different languages and you heard the cry of the mother above all. Her cries for her baby filled your ears as you raced across the courtyard toward the downed child. The man followed you close behind, and you paid him no mind as you shoved through the on rush of people. People were getting into meaningless fights as they tried to get away. A man stops in front of you making a grab for your waist. A hand presses against your chest shoving you back as the stranger jumps in front of you. He throws a hard punch at the man who’d made an attempt touch and he gets knocked to the ground. You grabbed his hand and started running again. The mother’s screams in French guided you through the crowd. You felt your foot hit something before you went flying. Your hands moved out in front of you to stop the fall by instinct and on impact you hissed in pain. You had landed hard on your free hand but was yanked back up just as quickly.

“We have to go.” The man from before whispered in your ear.

“The child needs help.” You whispered back and he didn’t say a word back as he supported you on the remaining distance. The child lay on the ground holding his mother’s hand as she screamed for help. The brown-haired man set you on the floor beside the child and you immediately began ripping your jacket off your arms. You ripped the sleeves off the jacket and used the back to apply pressure to the wound. The single bullet hole was small but on the size of the boy was enough to cause a lot of damage. You quickly felt it become wet with blood and pressed down a little harder as the boy cried out in pain.

“Mon garçon, s'il vous plaît, sauvez mon garçon.”(My boy, Please save my boy) She sobbed as her eyes covered her face. Her hands were covered in his blood and your mind flashed with the memory of your own hands covered in Tommy and Cassandra’s blood. You ignored her cries but that didn’t stop you from helping her. You kept a steady push on his leg to slow the bleeding. After a few checks you eyed the wound and you couldn’t help the feel of triumph that flowed through your heart. The slow of bleeding meant you could check the wound for any other injuries it could have caused. You ripped open his pant leg and wiped the blood away to get a good look at the wound. This wasn’t the first time you’d be a medic and it wouldn’t be the last. Your father had gotten plenty of hunting wounds and you had been the one to take care of them. His leg only held one bullet hole, but his leg was so skinny it could fit in the palm of your hand. Your heart ached that this would be the childhood he remembered and not one filled with days of running in a field with his mother or being in school with his friends. He was one of the lucky ones you had to remind yourself. He was alive and you were determined to keep him that way. Your hands moved with remarkable speed as you lifted the child’s leg and looked for the exit wound of the bullet. A small hole was in the back of his leg and you wiped it clear of blood. You lifted the sleeve from earlier to your teeth and made a big enough tear that you could rip it with your bare hands. The long piece of clothing dangled between your fingertips as you examined the length. From the way the threading looked it wouldn’t hold for long, so you’d have to find a more permanent solution. But that was later and the thin cloth would do good for now.

“How can I help?” The man whispered in your ear again as your mind whirled with adrenaline. Your instincts in healing were helping you move through the steps you’d done so many times before with ease, but you couldn’t help the storm brewing in your feelings. You were enraged, scared, and so many other feelings all at once. You had gotten lost in the moment as you rushed to save the boy that lay before you. People were still running inside, and the screams had begun to slow. The courtyard was filled with sobs of families returning to their loved one’s bodies that lay dead on the floor. The blood on the ground would haunt them for the rest of their lives as the bodies were carried away by the ‘healthy’ prisoners.

“Lift his leg carefully. I need to make a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.” You said softly showing him the places to place his hands. He placed his above and below the wound just as you’d asked and lifted slowly. The boy screamed in pain and the mother began to reach her hands out to stop you. You glared at her, but she ignored your attempts to stop her from distracting you. She was screaming at you in French, begging you to stop hurting her boy. You ignored her cries and curses and continued to work. Her hands were gripping yours now as she tightened them around your wrists, and you struggled to tie the knot.

“Si vous ne retirez pas vos mains, votre fils mourra!” (if you don’t pull your hands away your son will die) you snap back at her in French and her nails stop digging into your skin. She pulls away quickly but doesn’t move her eyes away from your face. You sigh in frustration as you tighten the knot around the boy’s leg. You can hear the boy crying for his maman and she’s trying to calm him but it’s no use. You grab the jacket and place it over the boys wound again and apply pressure. The mother is sobbing as she holds her sons face and you watch knowing that you can only help minimally. You motion for the man to lower his leg softly and he does. He watches you carefully as you wrap the torn jacket around his leg and tie it again in the back. The bleeding has slowed to minimal trickle, but you’ll have to find something to clean the wound to keep away infection. You sigh in relief collapsing on the back of your heels as the woman steps away from her boy and walks over to you. She offers a hand over to you and you stare at it not sure what to do. She smiles weakly and shakes her hand again. You realize she’s trying to get you to stand up and you take it willingly. She helps you stand up and as soon as you’ve got on your feet, she pulls you into a hug.

“You…help…. me Henry.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls away. There’s a new look in her eyes as she apologizes for hurting you in French. She pulls your wrists to her mouth and places small kisses over the crescent moon shaped marks. Her fingers run over them in a silent guilt and you pull away and give her a small smile. Her hand brushes your cheek leaving a trail of blood, but her eyes are locked on yours. She leans in placing a kiss on your cheek before releasing you from her embrace. She quiets quickly once you tell her that it’s alright and that you have something to tell her. You start to give her basic instructions that will keep her son alive. How to clean the wound and tell her the signs of infection. Her hands grip onto her fingers, and her eyes are eager to make sure she doesn’t miss a word. You tell her your cell keep so that if she may ever need your assistance, she can send someone. The man who helped you stands beside you as you give her these instructions nodding as you list off everything. Once you trust that she knows everything you bid her goodbye and tell her to stay safe. She doesn’t respond as she looks away from you down to her son whose hand is out reached for her. She rushes to her knees and grabs his hand and doesn’t give you another glance. You know she won’t leave him alone for a minute. The fear of losing her family wasn’t a good one and it had scarred her heart forever just as it did to you months ago. She would hold on tight to his hands and watch for any signs of sickness. She would not sleep through the night but would tell her boy that she did. She’d do anything to protect her last light in the dark world. Your eyes travel from their joined hands to the boys’ face. It’s pale, most likely from the blood loss but he smiles at you. He opens his mouth to say something, and just as quick as it opens it closes as a grimace of pain flashes over his face. You shake your head giving him a weak smile. You kneel beside his head and place a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead and murmur a good-bye. You give the mother and son a small wave before standing once more and turning on your heel to walk away. Your tail follows you as you make your rounds around the courtyard. People cry out to the two of you as you try your best to help anyone and everyone. Most people have died by the time you reach them, and you close their eyes for the dead to mourn. Some don’t accept that their loved one is dead and continue to scream their fury at your insistence. One man almost attacks you because he refuses to believe his wife was killed and the stranger has to stop him. Tears stream down your cheeks at the sight of each body that lies on the floor. There was so much blood on the court now that it was rare you saw an old patch that was dried. It runs underneath your shoes and covers each piece of cement with ease. It soaks the clothes of the people lying beside their families and friends crying their hearts out to someone who is no longer there. Their pain has become apart of you and you can feel the shock of it numb you by the time you reach the last patient. Your tears have dried up and your hands are covered in so much blood that pieces flake off when the wind blows through the courtyard. You stand beside the teenage girl that holds her arm limp as her companion stands nearby attempting to talk to you in German. You attempt to converse with him in French the only language you’d been able to learn in your months of imprisonment but it’s no use as he doesn’t understand you. The girl cries softly as you touch her arm trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Was ist mit ihr passiert?” (What happened to her?) your partner says in German earning a glance from the boy. He speaks faster now the urgency in his hand motions clear. You can’t help but watch in awe as the man who has been helping this whole time stays remarkably calm. He nods and continues to ask him questions and gives him responses without hesitation. He doesn’t interrupt when it becomes clear that the boy is in full out panic mode. You place your hand on the girls’ shoulder and she flinches away before you give her a small smile. She stared at you with a suspicious glare in her eyes, but you tapped your eyes and then pointed to her shoulder in hopes that she would understand. Her eyes are wide with understanding and she leans in closer to you. You press your fingertip towards the top of her shoulder, and you feel her flinch. Doing this a few more times as you examine her shoulder you realize it doesn’t look like the other. It’s bent at an odd angle and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Her shoulder is dislocated presumably from being trampled in the panic. I know how to put it back in place, but it’ll be a two person job so I’ll need your help...” you trail off not knowing your assistants name. He glances over his shoulder giving you a smile makes you look down at your hands tat have begun to fidget.

“Call me Bucky.” He winks but you can tell he immediately regrets it because he turns away and starts muttering something under his breath. You catch a small huff of frustration that he cuts off quickly with ‘idiot’ following in English. You chuckle a little and his eyes brighten at your show of emotion towards him. Besides the subtle nudges of worry from before the attack, it was the only one you’d shown. His whole demeanor changed then, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sudden beam of light. He was trying to hide his ear to ear smile as he shifted in place. You shake your head slightly and notice the two people that had been forgotten for a short moment. The man from before is quiet now as the girl talks to him in a soft voice. You motion Bucky over, and he leans down to your level.

“She needs to lie on her back. I’m going to pull it back into place.” Bucky gives you a single nod and begins talking to her in German. She stares at him in confusion but then as he explains it even more, she begins to nod her head in understanding reaching out to her boyfriend for assistance. He grabs her lifted hand and Bucky grabs her waist. Her boyfriend kneels beside her and the two exchange soft words that you don’t attempt to hear. Yes, there were things worse than what she was going through but what you were about to do wasn’t about to be as painless as she’d think. Besides the love that you could see when they looked at each other felt like you were intruding every time they looked at each other. When both men have settled, they both slowly lay her down onto her back, but your eyes don’t miss the flinch she gives once Bucky goes near her and her partner has stepped away. You slightly nudge Bucky out of the way and lightly grab her arm. You can see the gratitude in her eyes, and she tries to grab your hand most likely to thank you in the only way she knew how. You gave her a small nod and remained silent because somethings were better left unsaid. As you go through the steps you tell Bucky what you’re doing and in turn he translates. She doesn’t take her eyes off her partner the entire way as you begin to move her. Her arm is causing her a lot of pain, so your touches are featherlight. She is squeezing his hand and you take a lot of breaks to offer her some relief. Once her arm is outstretched towards you, you place your foot underneath where her shoulder is. You take a deep breath and without warning pull her arm at the same time as you push into her side. A loud pop sounds from her arm and you immediately stop pulling on her arm and let it sit on your lap. A blood curdling scream leaves her mouth and she begins to sob in pain. You can see her body shake as her free hand covers the tears that stream down her face. The three of you aren’t the only ones that heard her of course and a German soldier runs over to you all and starts yelling commands that you don’t understand. The girls companion starts responding to him much quieter than before most likely being careful with what he says. Even with the man explaining the soldier still has his eyes locked on you with a hatred you’d never seen before. It’s as if the soldier doesn’t care that you helped her and that she’d be better off in pain. You glare right back at him without a second thought before he turns his gaze away. He doesn’t respond to the boy before walking back to his post near the corner a few feet away from you. You let a breath you didn’t know you were holding in as he leaves the four of you alone on the courtyard again. You look down at the blonde girl who lies with her hair matted in blood from the concrete. She looks at you with a blank expression on her face that soon turns into gratitude. It’s not the first you’ve gotten but something about the way she put her trust in you makes your heart jump for joy. She lifts her arm into the air slowly but gives you a thumbs up, which in turn makes you laugh a little. She grins at you as you return her thumbs up right back and she looks away reaching out to her lover. He grabs her hands quickly and helps her to her feet. It’s a slow process as she slowly tries to get a handle on her pain tolerance, but eventually she stands up. She holds onto his hands to balance herself and gave her shoulder a roll. She let out a soft laugh in triumph and glanced over to where you and Bucky stood. Her eyes warm with happiness that would only last in the moment but were well deserved. She directed her eyes to Bucky and gave him a small smile as she spoke to him in German. You took the chance to finally look at the man who’d introduced himself to you. Here he was in the middle of a war willing to trust you and take care of all these people and be your assistant and he didn’t even know your name. You could tell by the hard built of his shoulders and the way his jaw tensed was because he was strong. Not in a physical way but in

a mental was as well. He could be one to give support and be just as willing to take it away. He was strong but not with many walls. He was determined but not without conscious. He was a good man. A handsome one at that you think before turning away and blushing. Here this man was helping you as a translator and you were thinking about how strong and physically built he was. You shake your head biting on your bottom lip to avoid the smile that wants to appear on your face.

“What have I got something on my face?” he jokes placing his bloody hands to his mouth. You shake your head but can’t help the small laugh that leaves your mouth. Even as a good guy who’d helped you save 20 people who were either bleeding or needed something fixing, he was a dork. The couple gives you a wave before walking off the courtyard towards the yelling Germans. It was time to go to your designated area. The cell of which you’d have to stay in until mealtime which would be in about an hour. As if on cue your stomach growls extremely loud and you place a hand over it. Usually you could hold your hunger over with some water, but it didn’t seem like there would be anything clean for a little while. The usual stream that came out of a hose was used to clean the victims’ blood away. You turned towards the hose where it had only on clean spot on the concrete. Today had been horrible and you knew there would be more days just like this to come. You still felt the ache for the people you couldn’t save and how their blood was still on your hands. You looked down at the floor and your eyes connected with the blood that covered your shoes. You felt the sudden urge to rinse it off and clean them with bleach, but you knew they would never truly leave. The stains would wash off physically, but it would stay with you forever and trap you in its horrors.

“Don’t let it scar you more than it already will.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t have the strength for words as the day’s exhaustion hit you. You felt your knees buckle and Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist quickly, keeping you up. All the adrenaline was dying out and you could barely keep your eyes open as he attempted to have you walk. You couldn’t though and it made your feet hurt 10 times more. You groaned and forced him to stop for a minute. You were blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out.

“I got you.” He murmured placing an arm under your knees and swooping you into the air. His arms pulled you closer to his chest and you placed a hand on your stomach. You wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. You were burnt out of all your energy and your eyes lazily rolled over the man who was walking you across the courtyard. He looked straight ahead, and his gaze sharpened at the people who passed by. It was clear he didn’t trust the people around you. It wasn’t something anyone should ever give out willingly but the thought that he had given you such a fragile thing made your mind whirl with possibilities. You kept staring at him in wonder and you weren’t sure if it was from the lack of food and water, but you felt a sort of friendship growing with Bucky. He made you feel safe and he hadn’t abandoned you as you fell but instead, he’d picked you up. He’d let you work and hadn’t tried to take over either. Your hand gravitated towards his cheek and you held it there. Something about the action felt right and it comforted you. From what you saw it had the same effect on him. He looked down at you with a sincerity in his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips. It warmed your heart that you were able to get that reaction from him after such a long day and you couldn’t stop the smile you returned. He looked up and his gaze sharpened once more but there was something else displayed across his face. It was more lie… astonishment. You turned your head in confusion to see what had made him look such a way and you let out a small gasp. The area around the only source of water wasn’t crowded like it had been when you’d glanced at it. The people had made two lines directly to the water hose. You recognized these people as the ones you’d helped. Men and women who’d lost their loved ones and had found some broken but ready to be helped had stepped aside so that you could get some water.

“No.” you croaked nudging Bucky. You needed them to know you weren’t any special. You weren’t some savior. You’d been able to save them, but you couldn’t save your best friend and her siblings. That their ghosts still haunted you in the depths of the night. You began to squirm in his arms your energy suddenly making its way back into your body. He glanced down at you as you struggled to get down. He lowered your legs and planted them on the floor without a word, but his arm didn’t leave your waist. You were glad because if it weren’t for the support you were sure to fall. You pointed to the hose and Bucky nodded and began walking the two of you towards it. The area was clear as the people watched you from the sides. You could feel your terror rising as you looked to the guards that watched from afar. Your heart was beginning to pound with anxiety. You didn’t want another shoot out. Too many people had died already, and you wouldn’t let any more die. You urged Bucky forward and soon you reached the front to where the boy, Henry stands as his mother washes his wound. He looks up at you and gives you a small wave and begins tapping his mother. She looks up from her action with a look of annoyance, but it vanishes the minute she notices you. Her gaze softens and she smiles urging you forward. You kneeled beside them and murmured a silent hello as Henry proudly held back the torn-up pant leg. He was telling his maman in French about how he would be a strong boy and protect them both from harm. She said nothing but only let a smile and a few laughs through her tough exterior as she let you inspect the wound. There never was a lot of talking in the prison except for the quiet whispers between the terrified families. People weren’t the chatty types when they’d be kidnapped out of their homes and forced away from their families. You shook your head as images of Jews being thrown out into the street and onto a bus in your hometown flashes across your mind. Just like you couldn’t save Ciera and her siblings you couldn’t even save them. But you could save these people. Some part of you hoped that you could help push the everlasting guilt away, but you knew you would always feel that pain. So, you internalized it and turned to the wound on the boys’ leg again. The flesh surrounding the wound looked clean which was already a very good sign. You checked along his leg for any red lines that would travel up. It was a common sign of blood poisoning but seeing as he had none you knew he would be alright for the time being. If there were any of the blood red veins trailing along his pale skin, it would be a sign of infection and with no antibiotics would be the death of him. She pulls the pant leg away from the boy at your request because he dances away from your touch. He giggles because your touch is warm against his cold skin and you smile at her and her boy. Giving her the good news is probably a moment you’ll never forget as she wraps her arm around her son tightly. You can tell from the way she’s beaming at being able to stay with her son for more time means that in some way they’ll get through this together. It makes your heart jump for joy and you can’t help but let the happiness consume you. The mother hands her son to Bucky and he kneels on a rock nearby holding the child. At one point while the mother washes a wound you catch Bucky letting the boy squeeze his cheeks and pull at them every which way. He doesn’t let this stop him from tickling the boy and the sight is so pure that you’re smiling for the rest of the time. More and more patients leave to go towards their cells after you give them direct instructions. They all come to the water and you and the mother wash out their wounds and they walk away. It’s a process that soon you start to do without realizing how many people you’ve helped. Some were far worse than her son with multiple wounds that fill with blood at the touch. It takes a lot to break a person and seeing multiple scrapes and bullet wounds would make anyone sick. After about the 15th person she ran away to throw

up because of the smell of cooking flesh from the sun above. Bucky immediately took her place in helping you clean the wounds. You looked over at the woman in concern but found her son rubbing her back as they sat on the concrete holding each other. You felt for her because this scenario was nothing good or that pleasing to see. Knowing all these people were hurting and that the men who guarded you all watched from afar and refused to help was making you feel 20 shades of green. You wanted to just react at them. To hurt the people who were hurting all these innocents. You despised them and with each wound that began receiving care by your hands the hatred began growing bigger and bigger.

“Neutralize your expression. Showing you’re angry will upset the Nazis even more.” Bucky’s hushed voice interrupted your thoughts. You lift your eyes to meet his as you turn the faucet off and dab at the patient’s jacket to dry his wound. The confusion you felt must have been visible on your face because his eyebrows raise as his head jerks to his right. Your eyes slowly follow the trail to where a German soldier stands with his gun in his hands. His eyes stare directly at your actions as if you were a criminal about to attack.

“They’ve been watching the entire time. Through the cameras in the corners. They have orders to let us be but to shoot if they see anything wrong.” You immediately drop your expression and place a blank look on your face. Bucky’s nod confirms that your expression is fine and you both help the man who’d been stabbed on the right side of his chest. The panic of knowing you were being watched never quite faded so you dived deeper into doing whatever you could for the people’s wounds. He’d been lucky for the knife to not puncture his lung because if that had happened his lungs would have filled with blood and he would end up choking on his own blood. If that had been the case, there would have been nothing for you to do at least long term. You were slowly coming to realize that all those trips spent in the library studying the multiple medical books were coming to work out in your favor. Bucky calls out the information in which you’ve told him to tell the girl who accompanies the man. She nods vigorously before grabbing his hand and helping him walk over to the opening that leads to the cells where you all would be holed up. The prison inside of the prison. How ironic. You call out for the next person to step forward but are met with silence. You look to the previous line to be met with open space.

“Come here.” He urges. He’s kneeling in front of you from where you sit on the high-rise rock. You ignore the outreach of his bloody hand and you walk around him. He sighs as you reach down to the faucet. The cold water greets your fingertips and you don’t move away from it. Bucky taps your shoulder and you turn around to see what he needs. He’s staring at you like you’re the smallest child in the playground and that if you don’t listen, he’ll throw you in time out. He points to his raised knee and you scoff shaking your head.

“Either you do it willingly or I force you.” You shake your head again and he groans throwing his head back in mock pain. You giggle and lean forward to reach the faucet again but you’re swiped off your feet as hands grip your waist tightly. He sits you on his lap and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling. You whip your head around to glare at him because you’re certain he’s a mad man and he grins leaning towards the faucet. You let out a squeal and you grip his knees as he shifts back on the rock sitting you square between his legs. You know you look beyond pissed because he avoids your eyes. He’s still grinning though at your reaction as his hands release your waist and reach towards the faucet. You move your hands away quickly and lean forward with him, eager to get the remaining blood off your skin. Bucky turns the faucet to the left and water starts spilling from it. He tuts when your hands almost touch the water and he grabs your wrists. The interaction makes your skin tingle and interlocks your fingers with his. In that moment you feel the firs spread throughout your body. Everywhere he touches you sends a different burn straight to your heart. His chest presses against your back as he washes the blood off both of your hands. When he breathes you can feel it hit your ear and it makes the hair on your skin rise. His hands caress yours as they wash 30 or more people’s blood off. His fingers slide into between yours with ease that you watch in awe as your hands become yours again. Except with his hands on yours you aren’t exactly sure where he begins and where you stop. Funny thing is, you don’t ever want to figure it out. His fingers brush over yours and they move away too soon. Before you can grasp what you’re doing you grab his hands and start the same movements. You slide your fingers against his long ones and watch as they become his just as yours were yours. You hear Bucky’s breathing grow uneven and you look over your shoulder to see what’s wrong. His eyes immediately lock on yours and you can see something that you’d never seen on his face before. You can’t read it, but you know it’s something he tries to hide because his face becomes black once more and his hands move away from yours. You gasp softly at the loss of contact and swallow the complaint that tries to force its way out. The moment has disappeared, and you can feel the slight tinge of embarrassment floating its way through your senses. You wipe your hands on your pants and the sight of you and Bucky’s hands together burns itself into your mind. You know it shouldn’t be there, but your heart holds it close and locks it away for safe keeping.

“You ready?” he whispers. His hand lays on your stomach which does a flop at the sight of it and you nod not sure if you could even get through a full sentence without stuttering. You stand up and take a step away from him. You were trying to get a grasp on your emotions but the only thing you could focus on was how his scent no longer surrounded you. Your legs wobble as you try to walk but your knees give out. Bucky grabs your hand and pulls it around his neck.

“I don’t think I can walk.” You whisper. He doesn’t respond at first but you can tell he’s debating what to do.

“Hop on my back. I’ll carry you.” You nod slowly as you walk behind him and grab onto his shoulders. His hands wrap around your thighs and he pushes you up in the air. You jump and let your legs fall around his waist and let your arms hang loose over his shoulders. His figure shakes a little as he tries to steady you and start his long walk towards the open steel doors. You place your chin on his shoulder and let out a small sigh.

“My knight in shining armor.” You tease half heartedly and he laughs. The sound warms your bones more than anything else could and you don’t catch the small smile that spreads across his face as he starts walking towards the yelling Germans. It’s time for everyone to go back to their cells and if told once more there would be consequences. Your arms become heavy and feel like blobs of jello as they swing. You can feel yourself absentmindly snuggling into the warmth of the man carrying you, but it doesn’t register as your senses begin shutting down. You blink a few times as you stared down at the dog tags that swung on top of the green Henley that adorned Bucky’s chest. The faint sunlight disappears as he enters the prisoner compound and the room becomes dark. You lift your head up as shouts erupt around you. You catch people clapping and you have the urge to tell them to stop. Drawing attention of the soldiers wasn’t a good idea because they had just witnessed what happens when you cause a ruckus. You bury your head back into Bucky’s neck as you silently wish for the cries of joy to stop. Despite all the good you’d done you still couldn’t get over all the good you could have done so many years ago. Bucky senses your discomfort and starts to walk a little faster than before.

“Get some rest. You look like you could use it.” He says softly as a metal door creaks and it gets held open for the two of you. You nod slowly feeling your eyes shut again. You listen to him this time and let the exhaustion finally take over your body.

Tagging some peeps~@randomfangirl82 @stucky-my-ship @jules-1999 @starkssnarks @dallaswinstonswife1109@notsosecretspy @kyn-lyn-blog @alltoowell-taylorsversion@creecree-4-life

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