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captainsimagines · 3 years

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

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

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

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

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

Word Count: 21,400+

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

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

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

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you avoiding me?”

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

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

You will not cry right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t joke about that-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Business as usual.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll what?”

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

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

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

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

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

You were still speaking.

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

“Don’t start-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

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

“Please...”

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

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

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

“I think that’s for the best.”

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

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

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

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

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

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

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

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

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

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

Steve really wasn’t here.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hey, what’s up?’

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

‘Back up. Explain?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You didn’t have to.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

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

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

“And we messed around a little bit.”

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

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

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

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That didn’t make any-”

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

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

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

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“You protect her, alright?”

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

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

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

“Good to see you again!”

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

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

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You played dumb. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are worse ways to go.”

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

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

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

“Is everyone on?”

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, where were you?

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

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See this as a means to inform you.”

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

“Do we have a deal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott’s eyes lit up.

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

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

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

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

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple.

Maybe because he didn’t stop you.

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

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

Yes, that would have been great.

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

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

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

“Please… don’t shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your men were followed, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prove it.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

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

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

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

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

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

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

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

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

“What about the videos, Omar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

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

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

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

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

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

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

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me.”

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

“We promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you getting at?”

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

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

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

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

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

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

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

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

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

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

“Multiple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t?”

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

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

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

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

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

“Tired of me?”

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

“Steve…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I only want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

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

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

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna let me?”

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

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

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

“Safe word?”

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

“Safe. Word.”

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve short-circuited.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat.

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself.

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you.

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss.

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it.

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor.

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it.

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed.

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed.

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring.

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown.

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes.

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae.

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised.

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again.

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom.

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time.

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to.

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t.

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could.

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow.

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched.

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again.

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply.

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really.

You thought the same about him.

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again.

Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up.

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less.

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost.

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along.

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again.

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

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

#steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #captain america x reader #to topple #a giant #by Moni #captainsimagines #Part Six #Chapter six #avengers x reader #mob fanfic #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #Smut #steve rogers smut #LOVE THE ANGST #love the smut

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starcloud-nova · 3 years

Note

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload Okay, let’s talk HeroCon.

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

#bnha #bnha fic #fic rec #fic rec list #fic rec masterpost #nova talks #all my friends in one post. sniffle #most of em anyway #not sure what to tag this so. ill hit send!#forgot too tag this as an ask rip #anonymous #ask

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shiversdownyerspine · 3 years

Text

7. Premeditated

GETTING WARMER FOR ALL THEM OTTO PEEPS. >:D

18+

You take a deep steadying breath into your hands, dragging them down your face as you breathe out. Stars twinkling in the window, you lean forward against the counter as your body shivers uncontrollably. With your elbows atop the counter, you wait once again for your kettle to boil, already dreading morning.

This can't go on. At this rate, you're going to drink all the coffee in your home! But what can you do except wait? You've done it time and time again; wrap up in your covers, drink your piping hot tea, and catch a couple hours of sleep before the cold sets in again and you start the whole process over. Rinse and repeat the whole night away, the week away, until the chill that has made a home in your bones eases its grip. For a time.

Lips parting on a shaky sigh, you fiddle with your sleeve, allowing your flannel pajamas' polka dot pattern to distract you from your joyless thoughts. Feeling the fuzzy interior around the inside of the cuff, you miss the meager vestiges of body heat that had long disappeared into the night. Small as they were, at least they had been something. Your head swivels to eye your stove, the little flame burning under your kettle, and hop up on the counter to sit. Not too close to the flame, but close enough to soak up some of the heat.

As the water bubbles in its confines, you quickly switch off the stove and pop the kettle up before it can start to whistle. Filling your classic mug of chamomile tea, your thoughts once again fall; this was much easier to handle when you had no guests, no one to pick up on your little problem. Of course that's not their fault, and you're certainly not blaming them, just appreciating a freedom that you were unaware of before.

Smile pulling at your lips, you recall a couple days prior how you taunted the three before disappearing to your room before revenge could be had. Your familiarity with the men has certainly been making you bold. Honestly, you're kind of surprised no one has retaliated against you, but on the other hand, the suspense offers a sort of retribution all on its own. You doubt that'd be enough for them though.

This introspection has you distracted well and good, to the point that when the tallest brother leaves the guestroom and walks barefoot to your kitchen, you had yet to notice him until he was practically in front of you. Deja vu strikes; your grasp falters, hands fumbling with your drink with the familiar sudden appearance of a long john wearing man. Wide eyed, you blink up at Otto as he scans you head to toe, taking in your shivering layers and that you are once more preparing a drink late in the night.

He is direct, "You're awake, why?"

Judging by his determined tone, the man is on a hunt. You fidget, "Can't sleep sometimes."

He snorts, "Weeks of bad sleep? No."

He gestures to your kettle, "Drink, why?"

Your answer is technically honest, "...I get cold sometimes."

With narrow eyes, he crushes your wish that he would leave it at that, "Cold why?"

Your gaze lowers to your steaming cup, pouting just a little, "I was kind of hoping you'd just assume it's because I'm smaller in stature." Otto waits patiently, folding his arms in victory.

Tapping a nervous rhythm on the sides of your mug, you give it a go, "Well, you all know about my regeneration? So...I suffered a serious injury to my diaphragm and my ribcage when I was young and my healing was in..early development. It did heal, but not...uh..the way it should have...it was..different? Wrong?"

Your brow furrows with frustration, "I-I'm sorry, I know I'm not being very clear, but the only way I'd know for certain is with a doctor visit...which I can't do for...many reasons. Basically all I have is just...theory."

You sip your drink, eyes drifting back up to Otto.

"I think when the injury healed, it healed incorrectly and permanently. Because of that, I have difficulty generating and sustaining my own body heat. It just slips away sometimes. It took a good while to get used to these...random cold spells. They don't hurt, not really, I just...lose out on more sleep than I'd like."

Although the colder seasons are...pretty rough. You can't lie to yourself about that.

Otto cocks his head, frowning. He takes a moment to find the words, which he speaks softly, "All your blankets..sweaters...ah..hot drinking?"

You smile to confirm, patting the knit blanket on your shoulder as you hum, "Yup, all to help with my condition. Well...not exclusively. I do enjoy all those things quite a bit, so even if I didn't have this little problem, I don't know if my tastes would be much different. There's just something about knit-wear and hot cocoa that makes me happy." You grin, wiggling your feet in the heavy fuzzy socks that currently adorn them, displaying your enjoyment of their softness. You can get a bit silly when you're so tired.

The look he gives you is...focused. Judging by the tense set of his jaw and the soft popping of his knuckles as his hands curl into fists, it's almost like he's...

"Who hurt you?"

Your thought process is abruptly cut off. You blink in mild surprise...he's not asking what, but who. Does he suspect it wasn't some sort of accident then? You do have a lack of pictures around your home, no friends or family from before you became affiliated with the Commission, so maybe he reasoned that your isolation had something to do with an aversion to people? And not just fear of your ability being discovered?...The man pays attention.

The smile on your face fades as you fall still, thinking carefully. Of course you were trying to figure out some sort of way to answer his question without diving into dangerous waters, but you find that his question is pulling from you some honest consideration; you weren't sure how you felt about the agents that brought you to that man, but in the end they were just doing their jobs...you don't even know if they had any idea what was actually going on. Regardless of intent, you have no warm thoughts or feelings to spare for them. But, there was only one person that made the feathers on the back of your neck stand on end with just a thought.

"It doesn't matter, they're long gone now. Good riddance." Your last sentence leaves your lips in a quiet hiss.

Ottos frown deepens into a furious scowl, "Where."

Your hands squeeze your mug, "Dead. I promise."

You're fairly certain you're the one that did it. You had gotten some flickers of memory quite a while back, one in particular had been of a man in...dire need of assistance as he flailed uselessly underneath long frantically swiping claws. He hadn't really been recognizable under all the mess and gore...but oh, there was this feeling.

The tension in the large man seems to ease, but Otto pauses with curiosity and surprise as he processes the pure vitriol in your voice, "You kill?"

You stumble over your words, "I...well, anyone can kill...if they're backed into a corner, right? If there's no other way out, and...and really.."

Your voice trails off at about the same time as your mind does, beginning the descent into fuzzy memory.

You're not even sure why you're fighting the urge to panic; these men are assassins, killing is a part of their life. They understand ending a life to defend oneself... but that isn't the problem, is it. It's not that someone might think less of you, it's that...you don't remember.

"I barely remember doing it. I don't remember what I was thinking or what I felt. I don't remember being shot at, but I do remember the pain. Bullets and blood spilling out. I don't remember if that man said anything before I started mauling him. I don't remember if when I had staggered up off the floor after a never-ending beating if..if I'd ran or tracked the man down first and...what sort of person has that maliciousness at 12 years old?"

Sighing, you scrub a hand tiredly over your face, the thick silence in the air bringing your gaze back up to Otto and...oh...you'd said everything out loud.

Color drains from your face as your eyes fall to the half full cradle of tea that is the inside of your mug. The exhaustion swallows any further panic as you mumble an apology, that you didn't intend to burden him.

Bare feet quietly pat against the kitchen floor as the man steps closer to you, burning fingertips gracing your cheek. Deep in the back of your mind you're reminded of Axel's touch, but it isn't quite the same because it's Otto's. The warmth has you leaning into his palm, seeking more instinctively to chase the chill away. It's not enough.

Otto is quiet for a moment, searching for the words before he describes their first kill, how the brothers had been young as well but older than you were. Young adults. They hadn't been employed by the Commission yet, but what you can gather from the little he gives of the situation is that they were protecting Oscar. It happened so quickly, didn't feel real. It weighed heavy on them, got easier with time. Still have rare moments where it's heavy again, old thoughts, memories. He rests his nose and lips at the top of your head, lightly in your hair. Like you. You are like them.

Perched up on the counter, your knees lightly brush his hips as he stands close, nearly between your legs as his hand cups the back of your neck. His palm rests oh so lightly atop your feathers, careful not to ruffle or stress, only offering a sheepish sort of comfort. His scent surrounds you, and it's fresh laundry and unexplainably his own and it's making you dizzy, everything is making you fuzzy and you're so drained and he's so so close...

Impulsivity, desperation, and prolonged sleeplessness has stolen away your common sense as you scoot closer to him. Your arms wrap tentatively over his shoulders in a loose hug, carefully leaning in as you tuck your face tiredly into his neck. Otto goes very still and quiet for a moment, before a quiet expletive in Swedish leaves his mouth. His palm remains on your nape, neither of you moving as you bask in his warmth.

Your lips are ticklish as they brush against his skin, murmuring a muffled bashful apology about clinginess and coldness and he can feel your hands slipping away from him. Impulsivity can be very contagious; before your touch has the chance to leave him completely, both of his big hands slip to your back and he's pulling you right back into him. Any response you have dies on your tongue, stunned and a bit timid as he pulls you forward off the counter, chest to chest. Otto has one of his arms curled under your rear, the other hand splayed at the middle of your back as he walks to the living room.

He insists, "You need to sleep."

Otto supposes he really should have just set you down after pulling you off the counter, but that doesn't necessarily mean he needs to detangle from you right now...just when he reaches your door. And when your legs aren't quite so snug around him. Of course.

Flustered, you pull back from his neck and remind him, "Sleep is easier said than done. Drinks and blankets help but it's only temporary, it comes back and I wake up."

He pauses before he can reach the hallway, scowling at your predicament. And then he wonders about you taking initiative to boldly press to him for what he had first considered to be emotional comfort...but now? You're not shivering as much so...

He offers curiously, "Body heat?"

Your mouth open, closes, then opens again, "I..um.."

Reflexive embarrassment fades as you take a moment to really think about it; you had had short professional relationships in your life, tentative friendships when you were younger that you had abandoned in the end, holding everyone at arm's length...when was the last time you had indulged in a simple hug? When you were a child?

You answer quietly, "I don't know."

Otto redirects his path and walks to the sofa instead, listening, "It's possible? I never really had the chance to find out, never mind finding the trust for it. It just didn't seem like a good idea to get that close to someone, anyone. It was too much of a risk, all things considered."

The large man understands, in a way. He knows his brothers would understand this kind of hesitation as well; caution had to be taken in many aspects of their lives working for the Commission as assassins, they still remember the early paranoia itching at the back of their minds when they first started. Luckily they had each other to rely on in their lives, not to mention the later experience to read intent and confidently indulge in a good fuck every now and then to chase away the touch deprivation.

But you...you had adopted solitude from a much earlier age, had molded your life around isolation. Sure, it wasn't exactly the same, but the similarities were there.

As he unwinds your legs from him so he can sit comfortably with you on his lap, his mind slips unbidden to other thoughts. Your earlier mention of a lack of social interaction and now admitting to a lack of touch confirmed that there were certain...activities...you had never experienced. Oscar had a point when he teased eating you out; the thought of your spread thighs shaking in his hands at the unfamiliar feeling of his wet mouth on you is intoxicating, but it may also be a necessary extra preparation before he fucks y-

Otto rips his mind from lurid thoughts, reminding himself to concentrate on his original effort to help you. Hopefully that would prevent his cock from rising to attention under your soft rear. You peer at the large man; he had gone quiet for a moment, drifting away...maybe he was processing or finding the words he wanted to say?

You eye the flush on his face, concerned for a moment that your actions had finally made him uncomfortable before he flicks his hair out of his face and asks with a mild strain, "Curious so..find out? Answer?"

You consider putting an end to your invasion of his space, time, and sleep, feeling you had imposed enough. Strangely though, you don't quite seem to have the will to pull away from Otto. You find yourself relenting and accepting. It was too tempting, the thought of finally having relief from this stubborn cold spell. You'd brush aside your shyness and impropriety, especially if it meant you could finally sleep through the night undisturbed.

With your consent, Otto pulls you down to the couch on your sides with you still tucked in to him. Reaching for the quilt on the back of the sofa, he tugs it down and gives a couple of good single-handed shakes to unfold it before tossing it messily over the two of you with a grunt. His ears burn when he hears the muffled giggle at his minor predicament reverberate against his chest, responding to you with a huff, "Sleep."

And you do. You sleep for hours right through the night and well into morning as your body insists on you taking the opportunity.

Otto wakes to the sound of his younger brother wandering out of their guest room, but his eyes remain closed, more interested in focusing on the feel of your soft weight on his chest. Oscar wanders in to the living room to offer Butternut and Pumpkin a morning scratch, but notices the quilt missing from the back of the sofa. Figuring the cats might have messed with it, he wanders over to the aforementioned piece of furniture and nearly doesn't believe his eyes when he sees who are resting on the cushions. Is this an emergency? It has to be. He has to show Axel, it is an emergency.

Otto's ears perk as he listens to Oscar retreat to their room and return a moment later with an extra set of footsteps. Both feet stop at the back of the sofa, and the reclining man feels a pair of eyes looking intently down upon the two of you. Otto cracks open an eye, muttering that you most likely won't be up for a while longer. With a sigh, Axel trudges off to the kitchen to prepare food, insisting on a replay of last night's events when he's finished.

Earlier on, your habit of staying up late and waking in the night had made the eldest and his brothers a bit...antsy. As time went on their suspicions quickly died down, reasoning that your habits were simply a mild form of insomnia. They've all had their fair share of sleepless nights, yet over the course of a couple of weeks, you had steadily been staying up longer and longer and appearing more weary by the day. And as you fought to keep up, they could only watch with growing concern as you were slowly submerged. They had began to wonder if the culprit was something else.

As Axel prepares coffee and breakfast, Oscar heads off to check on the kittens and feed them while you are indisposed of. Otto waits patiently for his brothers to return and give him what he knows will be their undivided attention. He dips his chin down to watch you curiously; judging from your slow deep breathing, you are still very much dead to the world. Well, he supposes this means you both found the answer to the question of body heat to be a firm 'yes'. His brothers return shortly, leaning against the back of the sofa and eyeing you with not so subtle relief.

Otto begins his retelling by first asserting that it hadn't been insomnia like they thought, but an old injury made into a persistent condition by your ability. And just like he had found himself incensed as you accidentally revealed bits of your attack, so too did his brothers become possessive and protective; their lips twitching with the urge to bare teeth, postures tense and eyes blazing. Of course Oscar's rage was the most outwardly evident, but he knew how to read Axel. They were all mad dogs really, all of them.

The surprise on their faces when he revealed your kill was satisfying to say the least. Their expressions gradually changed to approval as they processed the information; it was hard to believe that you, tiny little sweetheart that you are, had actually killed someone. Of course anyone in a dire situation could be capable of things they hadn't thought possible, but you ripped a man to shreds. As a kid. Not to mention you did it with your bare hands? Well...maybe not bare per se.

Axel rests his elbows atop the sofa, hands clasped together as his attention returns once again to your ability. Oscar peers down at you in fascination and quiet disbelief. The eldest and youngest brothers' thoughts are eerily similar, the two men compare your unanticipated ferocity with the first time they saw your Phase; when Otto had caught you, the claws on your hands hadn't seemed all that significant...but then again they hadn't really asked all that much about the aspects of your ability, hadn't felt the need as they had taken your changes at face-value.

But what if there was more to it than general appearance? They weren't threatened, no, they were intrigued. After all, you had proven time and time again that you weren't interested in fighting or killing, even as they presented themselves as threats to you more than once...and not once did you attack them.

Needless to say, they have some more questions for you when you wake up. And perhaps a couple of changes as well.

#the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar

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silver-summertime · 3 years

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song analysis: sapphic undertones in “ivy”

Happy New Year, y’all! Let’s end the year right with an “ivy” analysis. If you follow me, you probably know that I am OBSESSED with this song. It’s an absolute masterpiece and it might actually rival Cruel Summer for the title of my favorite Taylor Swift song.

So let’s get into it. From the first listen, this song read to me as being about an affair between two women, one of whom is married to a man. Obviously, the love interest in “ivy” could be a man, but Taylor chooses to address the song to a genderless “you,” so I’m going to have fun analyzing this as if it is gay. This song reads similarly to me as “Begin Again” and “The Way I Loved You,” which both have three characters who play similar roles. In all cases, the narrator speaks to a genderless love interest “you,” who is directly contrasted with a “he” figure. In “ivy,” it is unclear if the narrator is already married or simply engaged to the “he” figure.

We’ll start with the first verse, which sets the tone for the rest of the song. The line “where the spirit meets the bones” seems to have been inspired by the poem “Compassion” by Miller Williams. The full line is “You do not know what wars are going on/down there where the spirit meets the bone.” Thematically, the poem deals with the contrast between appearances and a person’s real feelings or mental state, which relates to “ivy” and “illicit affairs.” In both, Taylor writes about an affair from a compassionate perspective—in the case of “ivy,” it seems as if the narrator’s hands are tied; there is some external factor that prevents her from breaking up her engagement or marriage, which makes the listener sympathetic to her situation. I’d also argue that a lot of this sympathy comes from the perception of “ivy” as a period piece—it is easy to be sympathetic to a woman who is trapped in a marriage she never really agreed to in the first place.

Why does “ivy” read like a period piece? It’s all about the language. At contrast to “illicit affairs,” which very explicitly mentions parking lots and therefore has a more modern setting, “ivy” almost exclusively uses natural imagery. This is reminiscent of Romantic-era writing, which is characterized by a reverence for nature and beauty.

Examples of Romantic-inspired natural imagery:

oh, I can’t/stop you putting roots in my dreamland/my house of stone, your ivy grows

your opal eyes are all I wish to see

clover blooms in the fields/spring breaks loose

crescent moon, coast is clear

so yeah, it’s a fire/it’s a goddamn blaze in the dark

Beyond the use of nature as a metaphor, Romantic writing also features an emphasis on emotion over reason and a focus on the individual. “Ivy” clearly outlines a conflict between emotion and reason as well as individualism versus societal expectations; the narrator’s affair with the love interest (which is a transgression of societal norms) is a result of letting emotion outweigh reason. The narrator in “ivy” feels like she has failed to uphold society’s expectations of her as a wife—she directly contrasts herself with the “old widow” who “goes to the stone every day,” suggesting that the widow properly mourns her deceased husband. The narrator, by contrast, is “grieving for the living,” an inherently selfish preoccupation. However, the narrator’s emotions are presented in a compassionate light consistent with Romanticism.

Certain lines also sound a bit historical because Taylor could have used more modern linguistic structures or vocabulary but chose not to. The line “your opal eyes are all I wish to see” instead of “want to see,” for example. See also:

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

I wish to know/the fatal flaw that makes you long to be/magnificently cursed

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand/taking mine, but it’s been promised to another

The way the narrator’s “hand” has “been promised to another” is what sticks out most to me; it very much suggests that the engagement is not the narrator’s choice but may have been arranged (a la Mrs. Bennet’s drive to marry off her daughters in Pride and Prejudice). It’s also a contrast to the way engagement is described in “champagne problems,” which is much more modern (explicit references to dorms, Chevys, and Dom Pérignon). This kind of phrasing is a conscious choice by Taylor to make the song seem more “literary,” which makes it feel historical rather than current.

So what makes me think this song is gay? Honestly, it’s more of a feeling than anything concrete, but that’s the way queer-coding works: subtly enough that straight people don’t notice it, but specific enough to the queer experience that we pick up on it. This is yet another example of Taylor writing about a relationship that’s “just wrong enough to make it feel right” (thanks, “Sparks Fly”). The narrator seems caught off-guard by the affair (repeatedly asking “how’s one to know?”) and blames the love interest for being irresistible despite the inherent danger of pursuing anything (“it’s the goddamn fight of my life/and you started it”).

Of course, if the song takes place in a historical setting, any affair would be grounds for societal condemnation, but especially so if the love interest is a woman. I think the lyrics “I wish to know/the fatal flaw that makes you long to be/magnificently cursed” are especially telling.

Breaking it down: a) the narrator thinks the love interest is irrational for wanting to start this affair because b) being with the narrator will make the love interest cursed. This latter part is important because historically, there is usually a lot more fallout for women than men after affairs. Even when a married/partnered man is the one engaging in infidelity, the mistress often takes the brunt of the criticism (see: the media’s treatment of Monica Lewinsky, many a country song where the woman blames the mistress instead of her cheating partner). This article is an interesting look at the double standards surrounding chastity and fidelity for men and women.

This is all a long way to say that if the love interest in “ivy” is indeed a man, there is no reason this affair would leave him “magnificently cursed.” The narrator, as a woman and also as the married party in the affair (the love interest is not necessarily married), would most likely be the one to take the majority of the blame. I think there is an alternative interpretation: the love interest’s “fatal flaw” is her romantic interest in women, which would certainly leave her “magnificently cursed” were anyone to discover her affair with a married woman.

So that’s why “ivy” seems gay, I think! Let me know if you have any questions or other theories, I would love to hear them. And please let me know if you want me to analyze any other songs. If only I had this much fun writing essays for English classes…

All sources are hyperlinked within the analysis, if you’re interested in some further reading.

#ts lyric analysis #ria writes #ivy #happy new year y'all!#also if you want to read the linked articles but don't want to pay #sci-hub is a fantastic resource #evermore #gaylor swift

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lassieposting · 3 years

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Hi i havent read the books post-resurrection so im kinda lost on why you dont like phase 2 val? She was easily one of my favourite characters ever, she was flawed (and the books took time to acknowledge them) and relatable and still really admirable (intelligent, brave, loyal) and i really liked her and really appreciated that she wasn’t perfect unlike every other young adult heroines. What went wrong😢😢😢😢

Okay I'm gonna put this under a cut because I very strongly dislike phase 2 val and I know it bugs people who don't feel the same, so. Dead dove dont eat

Okay so first off, phase 1 val and phase 2 val are completely different people. literally. phase 1 val was based on an ex-friend of lardo's who used to apparently be involved pretty heavily in like, editing the books and "she'd react like this" or "val wouldn't say that", and that val she was one of my favourite fictional characters from when book one came out to the release of resurrection. phase 2 val is based on his whiny little girlfriend who likes to start shit with 14yos on twitter, and you can absolutely tell she is no longer the same person. so the long story short of "what went wrong" is "the original irl val's friendship with dirty laundry ended for whatever reason and he decided to retcon her entire personality to suit his gf"

Phase 2 Val, in my opinion:

Weak, like won't even fight back when she gets jumped bc boo fucking hoo she's so awful, bitch get up already, nobody signed up for ur pity party

Whiny. So fucking whiny. All the time. And she's the POV character so it's inescapable.

"Pacifist" but in a really pathetic virtue-signalling kind of way like "Oh, I've done such terrible thiiiiiiiiiiings I'm so awfulllllllllllll look how good I'm trying to be nowwwwwwww pay attention to meeeeeeee" kind of way, it was both boring and a massive eye roll. It's a book about magic and asskicking. Kick some ass. We're here for escapism not "realistic" whining. Yes, irl she'd be a mess. As an author it's his job to strike a balance between the "realism" he wants to portray and making his readers so depressed and done with his heroine that they quit reading, and in my case, he absolutely failed.

Everything must be about her at all times. Skug is having personal problems? Fuck him, they're about her now. Everything is about how it affects her, and her feelings, and be damned to the person actually having the problem. Fucks phase 2 val cain gives about anyone except herself: 0

Bitter and jaded. Which yeah I get why but it's like jesus christ what do we get out of reading about this? It's not even good bitter and jaded where it makes you empathise or admire her strength in adversity or whatever, she's just become a really nasty person with no redeeming features that I could see. Which? Landy outright said she's based on his gf? If your boyfriend is gonna drag ur entire personality through the dirt like that and write "you" as just a collection of incredibly negative traits...yikes.

Really ungrateful about the awesome life she leads? Which bugs me bc I fucking hate mundanity and knowing that all there is to life is fucking working and bad mental health. I would kill to live her life. All she does is moan about it. Like? Quit then. Fuck off back to being a mortal if it's that bad and live the shitty life you wanted to get away from in the first place. That way we'd get no more books, and quite honestly, thank fuck for that. But anyway, she needs to pick one, stick with it, and stop complaining about whatever she chose.

The girl wallows in self pity. And if someone else isn't indulging her enough, she'll wallow harder and louder and more obviously. Yawn.

Her POV is now so depressing to read that Resurrection literally tanked my mental health. I'm not kidding. I fell off the self-harm wagon, the suicidal thoughts came back, reading her dissociating would make me dissociate, I just did not cope whatsoever. Being in her head was just like being in my head during my worst points, and I hate myself, so naturally, I hate her too. Like I get why some people like phase two val. I get that her depression is "realistic" and that trauma does just make some people completely dislikeable and self-pitying, and if people want to read about that, then...sure. you do you, my dudes. But I live that reality, I am that person whose trauma made her a dysfunctional, isolated bitch, and I hate, passionately, having it infest the media I consume to escape.

Essentially if I wanted to engage with a bitter, spiteful, depressed piece of shit in her 20s who pushes everyone away and sucks at everything, I'd live my gd life. Yall see me tryna engage with my real life? Hell nah I'm on tumblr dot com burying my head up the ass of whatever fandom will force my brain to produce some s e r o t o n i n and that is what I need this series for

Also? The dynamic she had with skug in phase one? "Until the end"? "You save me, I save you, that's how we work"? Forget that, it doesn't exist anymore. I stopped reading after Midnight, because she was written like he was a coworker she could barely tolerate. They went from "Lardo confirms on twitter that they talked on the phone a bunch while she was in america and he'd always ask her to come home" to "she comes home and proceeds to blank him for five months while she sits in her fuckin multimillionaire's mansion feeling sorry for herself". Their friendship completely disintegrated, they were totally separated for most of the book, she's written as not giving a single shit about him. She treated him like dirt, and their dynamic basically felt like it was becoming "Local Man With History Of Gravitating Towards Abusive Women Makes Same Terrible Choices For Fifth Time" and? that was the point of no return to me. he supports her unconditionally, no matter what he's going through at the time, he's walked on broken bones to try and get to her when she was in danger, she can tell him anything and he'd never use it against her. I did not, for one second in phase two, believe she felt the same about him. tbh it felt like she could - and wanted to - drop him at the first opportunity and not even feel bad about it, and that's not the dynamic that made me so emotionally attached to phase one. i signed up for "until the end", not whatever bullshit phase two has going on.

Apparently she's "less depressed" now and their relationship is "better" in the books published since midnight, which! might well be true. but I haven't read them and don't intend to, and she's gone from one of my favourite fictional characters ever (which! was impressive! because i almost never bond with the female lead - i normally get attached exclusively to the character i crush on, which would be skug here. val was the first female lead i actually cared about since xena! so im deeply salty about losing her!) to a character i? honestly prefer to pretend doesn't exist. i live in war era dead men/generals crackship land because that way, i don't have to acknowledge her or the fuckin character assassination phase 2 pulled on her.

so yeah, no hate towards phase one val at all. phase one val was awesome and flawed and gave me something to aspire to despite my shitty mental health and trauma, and if she'd kept her original personality she might still have been those things. but the original "real life" val is no longer involved (and doesn't talk to landy at all anymore, apparently), and the val based on landy's insufferable gf? i cannot get behind her at all ever, four for skug and none for phase two val cain bye

(tldr; you're not missing anything by quitting after spx)

#skulduggery pleasant #valkyrie cain #anti-val #extremely anti-val #but like only anti-phase two val #bc phase one val was great and i loved her #come back friend!laura val needs you #lardass can't write her without ur input

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strangerthingsharrington · 4 years

Text

Can’t Fight This Feeling

-10-

Robin and I ran back into Scoops Ahoy, each of us carrying a map. We went right into the back room where Dustin and Steve were sitting, they looked over to us questioningly.

I took the open next to Steve and offered up his keys, "Back in one piece, as promised," I stated as he opened up his hand to accept them, I dropped them into his hand with a smile.

"Thanks, Lou," he chuckled, "you can use it anytime."

I raised my brows and laughed a bit, "Really? So if I needed it at three in the morning I could throw stones at your window and you would drop the keys for me?"

He laughed and nodded quickly, "That is exactly what I'm saying."

I laughed with him before catching the eye of my brother who had an amused look on his face, I looked to Robin and saw her trying to contain a laugh by holding her nose.

I quieted my laughter and cleared my throat, "Anyways," I said with a head shake, "it is absolutely amazing what twenty bucks will buy you at the County Recorders office."

"Starcourt mall," Robin explained, opening the map and laying it over the table, "the complete blueprints."

"Not bad," Dustin said approvingly looking between Robin and I.

"So," I said standing up, "this is us, Scoops. And this," I ran my finger along the map, "is where we want to get."

Steve hummed from next to me, leaning over the table and map bumping my shoulder with his, "I don't really see a way in."

"There's not, if you're talking exclusively about doors," Robin said as I put the map of the Starcourt vents down.

Dustin looked down at the paper in front of him, and it was like you could see the gears click together, "Air ducts."

"Exactly," Robin and I said together.

Robin walked around the table and over to the white board to grab the marker, "Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room."

She smiled at me and handed me the marker, "And these air ducts," I began as I circled us at Scoops Ahoy, "lead all the way," I started drawing the path through the vents, "here," I said simply, circling the secret room.

I recapped the marker and looked at the other two with a triumphant smile before looking up to the vent.

I placed my hands on the table and sighed happily, looking over to Robin who was grinning too at our accomplishment.

"Genius," Steve said quietly before turning to look at me with a smile, "that's so smart," he said laying his hand on the top of mine and squeezing it gently.

I knew at that moment that my face began to slightly heat up as I smiled back to him, "I mean...Robin came up with the vents and stuff. Robin did most of it."

Steve's eyes softened and gave my hand another squeeze before removing it, putting his hand up to Robin, "Good job to you too, Robin."

Robin looked at him questioningly as Steve waved his hand slightly in front of her face before lifting her hand up in possibly the weakest high five in the history of high fives. I couldnt help but let out a small giggle when they brought their hands down.

I looked to Dustin who looked utterly confused before he eventually shook it off, "Can we please take a look and make sure I can fit?"

"You're not going in there," I said immediately.

Dustin furrowed his brow at me, "Yes I am."

I scoffed, "Huh, no? We'll figure something else out."

"I'm the smallest, Louise. I can get in there," he stated.

I could tell by his face that he was becoming stubborn Dustin. I sighed and lifted my arm in the direction of the vent.

"Let's see what's going on then," I said.

"I got it," Steve said, before walking to a shelf and grabbing something from it, then taking the step stool from the corner and setting it up under the vent. I saw that he had grabbed a screwdriver and was taking the screws out. He got the vent off after only a couple moments.

He handed the vent cover off to Dustin, "Flashlight," Steve said.

Dustin put the vent down and grabbed a flashlight from his pocket and handed it up to him, "Thank you," Steve said quietly.

Steve lit up the vent and checked around inside.

"Yeah...I dont know, man. I dont know if you can fit in here. It's, like super tight," Steve explained.

"I'll fit," Dustin simply stated, "trust me, no collarbones, remember?"

"That's doesn't make you like, silly putty, Dust, where you can just fit wherever," I told him.

"Wait...what?" Robin asked.

I grinned and looked over to her, "How many times have I told you about his disease?"

The realization flooded her face, "It's not like it comes up often," she defended.

Steve hopped down from the ladder as Dustin began climbing up it, "Yeah...his disease. It's chry-uh. It's in chrydo...something, I dont remember the name," he said as his eyes flashed to me, "he's missing bones and stuff he can bend like gumbo."

The involuntary laugh that came out of me was the fastest I ever laughed at something. Gumbo? Steve looked over at me and smiled before he laughed as well.

"I think you mean Gumby?" I laughed out, looking over to him.

He smiled even wider and shook his head, "I'm pretty sure it's gumbo," he told me while I continued to laugh and shake my head at him.

I appreciated that he was trying to show that he actually knew important things about Dustin, even if he used the wrong examples.

Our laugher subsided as Dustin yelled out from the vent, "Steve...will you two shut up and push me?"

"Okay," Steve said with another laugh before he smiled at me and turned to face the lower half of my brother sticking out from the vent, "I'll push ya."

I smiled before looking over to Robin who was grinning at me and batting her eyelashes over in my direction. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Not my feet dumbass. Push my ass!"

My head snapped to Steve and Dustin, Steve had Dustin's feet in his hands trying to push him in.

"What?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Touch my butt, I dont care!" Dustin yelled.

"Come on push harder! Push harder!" Dustin was literally screaming this into the vent and I could only imagine what people were thinking if his voice was travelling.

But that was nothing compared to what Robin and I were experiencing by watching Steve push my brother by the butt into this vent.

"You're playing with my legs!"

"I'm not playing I have terrible footing!"

I shook my head at the scene before me.

"Come on!"

"I'm just gonna shove you, ready?" Steve asked with Dustin's legs over his shoulder.

"Just shove me!" Dustin screamed.

Steve counted before forcibly pushing my brother with his shoulder.

I winced, "Please be careful."

Steve glanced over at me, "I wont let anything happen to him, Lou. Don't worry."

The butterflies seemed to erupt at that. I couldn't put into words how much I appreciated Steve looking out for Dustin. Even if he was trying to shove him into a vent at that moment.

"That work?" Steve asked my brother.

"One more time!" Dustin called just as the bell at the front of the shop rang out.

"Ahoy sailors! All hands on deck!"

I turned around slowly and saw little Erica Sinclair.

"Ahoy! Get over here and serve me some samples!" she called out.

I grinned and crossed my arms over my chest.

"What're you looking at, Louise? You're not one of the sailors," Erica sassed to me.

I grinned before looking to Robin, "I think we might have just found our way in," I told her.

Robin looked to me and I motioned to Erica with my head.

Robins face slowly morphed into a smile before looking back to Steve and Dustin, with Steve still trying to shove Dust into thr vent.

"Hey, dingus and mini dingus," Robin called.

Steve turned around and looked to her, "What?"

"Lou just found our way in," Robin said quietly, pointing subtly to Erica who was still chattering in the back.

Steve looked stunned, before shrugging and patting my brothers leg.

"Come on out, Dust," Steve said to my brother before stepping down from the ladder and helping Dustin get down.

I heard Robin out front talking to Erica, asking if she could help out for a moment.

"Do you think it'll work?" Steve asked, coming to stand next to me.

I looked up at him for a second before shrugging, "I dunno. I mean, she'll fit. It's just the question of what she'll want in return," I said just as Robin led Erica to the back room.

"This vent?" Erica asked, sticking her thumb behind her to the open vent, "you want me to climb into this vent?"

We all nodded at her and she went over to the ladder and climbed up, Dustin went over and offered her the flashlight which he grabbed from him.

I leaned against the counter near the partition with Steve on one side and Robin on the other.

"Hmm," she hummed with her head still in the opening.

She climbed down and turned to look at us, "Yeah, I dont know."

"You don't know if you'd fit?" Dustin questioned.

Erica scoffed, "Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to."

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Robin asked with irritation.

Erica snickered, "I dont have phobias."

"Okay well what's the problem?" Steve sighed.

"The problem is," Erica began getting progressively louder, "I still havent heard what's in this for Erica."

"Ice cream," I shrugged.

I felt the eyes of the three others snap to me but I was focusing on Erica, who smiled at me, "That's why you were always my favourite babysitter, Louise, you just always knew the right thing to do.

—

We had one of the round tables littered with different types of ice cream, some in cups, some in regular cones, some in waffle cones. While she was picking all the different ice cream she wanted the four of us began telling her why we needed her to go through the vents. We were honest with her about what we knew. And she honestly didn't seemed phased by any of it.

Steve slid a large banana split across the table to her as we watched for her expression. She looked to the banana split, then back to Steve before grinning.

She slid it back to him, "More fudge please."

Steve was leaning on the table staring down at it, I think trying to compose himself.

She waved her hand at him, "Go on," she encouraged.

He refused to look up as he reached out and took the ice cream, "Lou," he said quietly, "can we speak for a second."

I looked between Erica, Dustin and Robin, I honestly wasn't sure if they would be able to negotiate with her since she's been sassing them this whole time.

"Don't worry, Louise," Erica told me, "we'll see how good they do, go talk with the sailor man."

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded, following behind Steve to the ice cream counter.

"What's up?" I asked him, watching the table and seeing Robin holding up the map.

"Do you really think this will be worth it in the long run?" he asked me.

I sighed and looked over to him, as he poured fudge over the already overly sweet looking dessert.

"Do we have a choice?" I asked.

He sighed and put down the fudge, "Not really," he conceded.

"Hey," I said, nudging his arm with mine, "we're gonna be okay," I told him.

He grinned and nudged me back, "I know," he told me, "we're almost at the end of your summer essay."

I laughed as did he, "I have to end it on a big note. That's why I'm so invested in finding out what's in the boxes."

"I'm mainly still helping out to make sure you get an A," he chuckled.

"Oh!" I laughed, "Well thanks Steve! I'll make sure to add a dedication section just for you!"

He laughed and opened his mouth but was cut off by Dustin.

"Hey!" he whisper yelled over the counter at us, "I've been trying to get your attention! Come over here!"

Steve and I looked back at each other before sharing another small laugh, Dustin huffed before walking away with Steve and I following after him.

I sat in the booth next to Dustin while Steve sat in the chair again next to me and slid her the ice cream with the new fudge.

She looked at it and smiled, "I'll let you two fill the other two in on my offering," she said as she took the spoon from the banana split and began to eat it.

I looked at Robin and raised my brows, "She's offering to do this for us, but in exchange for free ice cream for life."

I looked to Steve who was already looking at me, I made a 'your call' face and shrugged. Steve sighed and looked quickly to the other two.

"Fine," Steve agreed facing Erica, "but you have to stick with the plan. No opting out. You abandon us, you abandon the free ice cream. Deal?" he asked sticking his hand out to her.

She stuck the spoon back into the ice cream and reached across the table to shake his hand, "Deal," she agreed, before letting his hand go.

"Okay," I said leaning against the table, "let's get the plan together."

——

Title credit to REO Speedwagon and gif credit to owner

Thank you everyone for reading and liking this story, it means a lot!!!!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #netflix #dustin henderson

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chaptersinprogress · 4 years

Text

demolition lovers | 7

“Need a ride?”

Ting smirked as she stood, "Sorry darling, where I'm going, you need an exclusive invite. Big girls only."

Sliding off the stool, Prae walked up to Ting and tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear, then murmured lowly, "Good thing you have me then."

Rating: T

Warnings: detailed descriptions of violence and a spot of murder

Pairings: Prae/Ting

Prae pulled up in the middle of the empty street, the roar of the bike's engine cutting off. In the dead of night within the industrial area, the silence pressed in around them almost oppressively. Unfazed, Ting unclasped her helmet and dismounted from the bike, shoving the protective gear at Prae.

"Thanks for the ride darling, I'll take it from here."

Prae cocked her head, idly running her fingers over the smooth plastic of the helmet she'd been handed. "Oh? How were you planning to get back then?"

"I'll probably call someone to pick me up," Ting said, shrugging.

"And leave you wandering these streets alone in the middle of the night? That's just asking for trouble."

As if summoned by the very thought, a group of teens stepped out of the shadows ahead. Bandannas and masks concealing their identities, they slowly advanced, carrying an assortment of weapons - glittering machetes, baseball bats, poles. Prae would bet her inheritance on a few switchblades being concealed on their persons.

"Well I'm trouble with a capital T, darling. This is my playground," Ting tossed over her shoulder with a smirk as she began walking towards the group. "You better leave while you still can."

Prae's lips curled into an amused smile. As if she could be swayed with a "warning" like that. Resting the helmet on the bike engine, she sat back and took the time to admire the vision that was Ting. The street lights glinted off her ebony hair, a braided scorpion tail with its swaying tip highlighting the provocative open back of her white blouse.

Eyes trailing downwards, Prae took in the toned legs in a forest green pleated skirt paired with black high-top Converse. Ting looked every inch of a college girl ready for a night out with friends, not like someone who went around getting into fights. But the self-assurance with which she went to face off her opponents spoke greatly of her intimacy with violence.

Definitely not your average girl-next-door.

Though it looked like Prae herself would be getting her hands dirty tonight. Ting would have greatly under-estimated her if she thought that Prae hadn't noticed the bikes following them as they'd made their way to their current location. And from the way their riders remained hidden as they crept forward to where she was seated, they certainly weren't planning on making friends.

Prae dismounted with a sigh. She liked a good challenge every now and then, but this was proving to be more of an annoyance. There were far more interesting things she could be doing instead - like watching Ting wipe the floor with her opponents, and convincing her that they should get to know each other more intimately.

"Alright, boys," Prae called out, pulling out her favourite garrote from where it had been concealed in her jacket. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Her challengers slunk out of the shadows. Three male teens, still baby-faced and soft around the edges. Two of them had sneers decorating their faces, a self-absorbed swagger in their steps as they twirled their baseball bats in an attempt to look intimidating. The last kid looked a couple of years younger, and had probably never been in a fight before if the way he desperately clutched the pipe in his hand was an indicator.

Prae scoffed, leaning against her bike. "Really? You're my opponents? You're not even worth my time."

Their leader sneered, a nasty curl to his lips. "Just wait till we start breaking your bones, bitch. You'll wish you'd kept your mouth shut."

Prae laughed. She slipped on her knuckle dusters and let the garrote hang in loose coils around her wrist instead. "Bring it, fucker" she taunted.

"Fuck you," the teen's companion spat and lunged, swinging his bat at her ribs.

Prae ducked under the swing and stepped forward, smashing her metal covered fingers into his jaw. The teen's head snapped back, teeth audibly clacking together. Then he crumpled to the floor, clutching his jaw and shrieking loudly through tightly-pressed lips, down for the count.

The other two stared at their friend's curled-up body for a second in disbelief, before turning back to Prae. Anger and astonishment painted the leader's face. He couldn't seem to believe that she had broken his friend's jaw so casually. His younger companion shrunk into himself, his pipe held in front of him like a warding talisman.

Prae gave them a feral smile. "Not so tough are you?"

"You fucking bitch!"

Leaping back, Prae dodged the bat by a hair's breadth, the force of the swing ruffling her hair. She slipped her garrote into her jacket pocket. The weapon was unnecessary. No need to risk accidentally severing her own hand by leaving it around her wrist.

The teen rushed at her again with a yell, the metal bat aiming for her abdomen, arms and ribs. Prae danced out of the reach of every swing, a wide grin almost splitting her face. Her body tingled with the adrenaline rush of just barely avoiding each hit.

The other's face twisted in an enraged snarl as he failed over and over again to win their high-stakes game of whack a mole, getting sloppier with each miss. He finally came to a halt - the realisation that he wouldn't be able to come close to landing a blow on her sinking in.

"For fuck's sake!" he panted, staring at her incredulously while clutching his bat so hard his knuckles were white. "Stay still and let me hit you dammit!"

Prae almost choked laughing at the ridiculous demand. What nerve! She hoped he wasn't actually expecting her to comply. She sighed.

"Alright kiddo, playtime's over."

And lunged. The teen's eyes widened as he raised the bat. But Prae had already slipped past his guard. One hand wrapped itself around his neck, the other was braced on his shoulder. Her knee drove into his stomach. His ribs. His side.

Pinned in place, the other could only take the hits, breath rushing out of him as each connected. The bat fell from his hand with a clatter, forgotten. Gasping, the teen twisted and turned in Prae's hold, desperately trying to escape.

She slammed an elbow into his face. As his head snapped to the side, she released him and lashed out with her foot. Her boot connected heavily with his chest.

The blow sent him stumbling backwards, arms windmilling. The male barely caught himself in time to avoid a broken nose as he collapsed face-first onto the asphalt. Body trembling, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees.

Prae picked up the bat and spun it, getting a feel of its weight and motion. Then sauntered over to the leader's side.

As her shadow fell over him, he looked up at her, wheezing. She smiled down at him. And slammed the bat viciously across his shoulder blades. The teen crumpled with a groan, and made no further attempts to get up.

Prae turned to face her youngest opponent. Resting the bat casually on her shoulder, she took a step in his direction. The metal pipe he'd held clattered loudly as it fell to the floor as he immediately raised his arms in surrender. Not that he had to worry. Prae didn't particularly care for beating up people weaker than her.

Unless they came at her first of course. Then she was very happy to put them back in their place, where they belonged.

Under her feet.

She gestured dramatically to the side with her free hand, very clearly giving the boy an out. The kid gave her a weak, terrified grin in thanks and began scooting away sideways. Then his gaze, which till then had been very firmly kept on her face, flickered to a spot just behind her.

Prae spun, bat swinging. It crashed against the crowbar that had been about to come down on her head, redirecting it past her shoulder. The force sent vibrations down her forearms, deep into her bones. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Prae retreated, keeping a few feet between her and the wielder.

The man, in his late 20s perhaps, cocked his head just the slightest. A slow, cruel smirk grew on his face.

On the other hand, any and all amusement had left Prae. If that blow had connected, there was a good chance her skull would've been split open like a watermelon. This wasn't a street brawl any longer.

She surreptitiously searched for Ting. Prae had assumed that this was some school gang conflict, especially given the age and inexperience of those she'd thought were involved. Worry crept into her as she failed to catch any sign of the other girl.

Either something had gone wrong, or her assumption was fatally flawed.

Prae turned her attention back to the more immediate problem. "Who are you?" she asked coolly.

"Doesn't matter," replied the man. "You'll still be dead."

Prae gave the man a considering look and nodded once. Puzzled, the man raised an eyebrow at her apparent agreement. She beamed at him, dropped the bat, and took off.

The unexpected action gave her a few seconds of a head-start. But her pursuer caught on quickly and soon started to gain on her.

Prae tore down the maze of streets, ears straining to hear the sound she was searching for until… there! Skidding into the narrow alley between two warehouses, she leapt. Her right foot slammed into the wall, muscles coiling like a spring.

Pivoting, she launched herself off the side, fingers grasping for the top of the lower AC unit on the opposite wall. The blast of hot air from the massive machine sent her hair flying into her face as she hung mid-air. Spitting out the strands, she pulled herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her fingers from clinging to the heated metal.

Her gaze fell onto the fire escape just a few inches above and to the right of her head. Reaching for the lowest rung, she smothered a scream as her burns came into contact with the cool metal. Scaling the ladder, she clambered onto the upper AC unit, a good three and a half meters off the ground.

Sitting slumped against the wall it was attached to and breathing harshly, Prae took stock of the situation. The shadows and the din from the machines provided her adequate cover. And while the noise, heat and vibrations from the units made her choice of seat highly uncomfortable, it suited her purposes.

Her fingers however…

She studied the digits in what little light there was. Judging the burns to be inconsequential, Prae pushed the pain from her fingers to the back of her mind. Retrieving her garrote from her pocket, she let the weapon hang loosely in her hands. And then she waited.

Not that she had to wait long.

Pounding footsteps which could barely be heard over the noise of the AC units heralded the man’s arrival. Thrown by his target's sudden disappearance, he came to a halt, just outside the alley. He spun on the spot slowly - searching for any hint of movement.

Nothing.

He stared down the narrow street for a moment in consideration. And then took cautious steps inside, methodically scanning the area as he ventured deeper.

Exactly as Prae intended.

Keeping sharp movements to a minimum, she scooted closer to the edge of her perch, silently swinging her legs over the side and bracing her feet against the grill. Muscles coiled in anticipation, she watched the man approach the AC units unsuspectingly.

And as he passed below her, she pushed herself off.

The man let out a startled yell as Prae crashed into his back, her elbows hooking onto his shoulders and legs wrapping around his waist. He stumbled forward under their combined weight, arms thrown out for balance.

Lightning-quick, Prae slipped her garrote around his throat and pulled. Jerking her torso backwards, she let her body weight draw the wire taunt. A choked off gurgle escaped the man and he frantically scrabbled at the wire. Staggering upright, he threw himself back, slamming the both of them into the wall.

Prae grunted loudly as the impact sending pain radiating though her body. Gritting her teeth, she inhaled sharply and twisted the garrote tighter, refusing to loosen her grip even a millimetre.

Panicking as his oxygen supply dwindled rapidly, the man kept ramming them against the concrete, desperately trying to dislodge Prae. She took the blows unflinchingly, even as her back grew numb and her burns flared with agony. His attempts grew more and more sluggish.

Then his body finally gave out.

Prae barely managed to disentangle herself in time as he slumped in a heap, catching herself above him. When she was certain that he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, she unwrapped her garrote from his throat and straightened up.

And let out a groan as the aches and pains from the scuffle made itself known. Shaking her muscles out, she pulled her knuckle-dusters off and shoved her weapons back into her pockets carelessly.

"Well don't you look peachy," came the wry voice from behind her.

Prae nearly jumped out of her skin. "Fucking hell!" she yelped as she spun.

Ting raised an eyebrow at her from where she was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, at the entrance of the alley. Pushing herself off, she walked over to Prae and looked her over once, before dropping to one knee to study the man at her feet.

"Turn on your phone's flashlight, will you?"

Prae obliged, illuminating the duo. Grabbing a fistful of hair, Ting yanked the man's head up. And immediately let out a noise of displeasure. Prae watched as Ting took in the vivid bruising and indentations encircling the man's neck.

Ting sighed, annoyance marring her features. Flicking out a switchblade, she slit the man's throat, angling herself away from the arterial spray. Wiping the blade clean on the man's shirt, she looked up at Prae, expression carefully blank as she anticipated her reaction.

"Did you have to?" asked Prae curiously.

Surprise flashed across Ting's face before she stood up.

"It's practically an act of mercy after what you did," she said coolly. "His windpipe was crushed; he'd have asphyxiated eventually. You didn't have to be so particularly cruel."

Prae shrugged carelessly. "I supposed that's the difference between us. You're interested in a clean kill. My only aim is to incapacitate anyone after me. Whether it leaves them alive, disabled or dead, I couldn't care less."

Ting observed her for a moment. "Interesting," she finally said. "I hadn't expected you to be so caviler about it. Do you usually find yourself in such situations?"

"It happens every once in a while, yes."

Ting hummed before casually walking past Prae. "Ok. Let's go."

Prae glanced down at the body lying in a pool of blood before jogging after the other girl. "What about the clean-up?" she asked, catching up to Ting.

"Ram's handling it," she replied. "He should be on his way already."

Prae grabbed Ting's wrist, bring them both to a standstill even as she bit down on the instinctive flinch from putting pressure on her burns. "So what was that all about?"

Ting turned to face her. "Take a guess."

"Chao Pho," stated Prae. "I'd originally assumed rival school gangs but things didn't add up. It would explain why you and Ram are always around Duen, and the way his father behaved at the fundraiser as well. They're high up in the group, aren't they?"

Ting’s lips quirked up. "That's right. The question is, what are you gonna do with that info?"

Prae blinked before huffing a laugh. "Why would I do something? It doesn't really change anything." Her gaze sharpened. "But if Bohn or King get hurt, there'll be hell to pay, I assure you, mafia or not."

"You can try," said Ting, amused.

She tilted her head and stepped closer, her free hand trailing over the front of Prae's jacket before resting at her waist. "You know," she said, voice dropping to a breathy whisper. "Confidence is a good look on you. You look fucking hot when you threaten people."

Prae’s eyes darkened and she let her gaze drop to Ting’s mouth.

"Mmm, is that so?" she asked, her voice matching Ting's. She moved forward, forcing them back until Ting gently bumped into one of the buildings' walls. Releasing her wrist, Prae wrapped an arm around Ting while her other palm hovered above her hip.

Ducking her head, she murmured into the other girl's ear, "What do you plan to do about it?"

Ting smiled coyly and tangled her fingers in Prae's hair. "First,” she breathed out. “I'm going to take a look at those burns you're not mentioning."

Prae jerked back. "How did you…"

"I felt them when you grabbed my wrist, darling. It wasn't particularly difficult to tell."

"Right, you're a medical student," remembered Prae. "Well then. Are you going to kiss them better, doctor?"

Ting draped her arms around Prae's shoulders. "If you're good, we can do more than that," she teased.

Prae stared at her for a moment then laughed, the bright sound ringing through the air. "I'm going to hold you to it then," she whispered.

And dragged Ting close to kiss the satisfied smirk off her face.

#chaptersinprogress #my engineer #my engineer the series #prae #ting #prae x ting #fanfic #fanfiction #demolition lovers #super duper long update #please comment #or leave an ask #tell me your thoughts #feedback is appreciated

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save-the-spiral · 5 years

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InkWizTober Day Thirteen: Ash + Return from Beyond

Welcome to day thirteen of Inktober! I wrote about my oc Fledge, who I’ve written snippets about before but this is literally their entire storyline of the first arc. They use any pronouns before the events of this, but are misgendered hardcore in the beginning and use they/them exclusively afterwards in the first arc. I also included my friend @pyromancyy‘s oc Caleb, Caleb’s not my boy. Warnings for swearing, misgendering, microagressions (touching their hair w/o consent), blood, death, undead creatures, kidnapping (a literal child), forcing my small oc to do horrible things, so child trauma.

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

Fledge is eight years old when their entire world is ruined. It happens like this: Merle Ambrose notices a strange human child with no parents in Ravenscar, not hidden like they usually are when outsiders come to Grizzleheim. Merle Ambrose grabs Fledge by the arm, and bodily drags them from the Ravens, claiming that Fledge just needs to go to Ravenwood, that it will domesticate 'him’.

Fledge has to watch the angry expressions on their guardian’s faces morph into helplessness as they are pulled up a rickety wooden ramp and out of Ravenscar.

They’re dazed from some kind of spell, stumbling and mostly dragged through Northguard. Bears and wolves alike who know them- have called Fledgling their Pup or Cub, have cared for them- have to just stand by and watch. Grizzleheim has trade agreements their economy, their entire world, relies on. They can’t start a fight with the wizards now, not when Wizard City houses some of the most powerful wizards, not when they could drag other worlds into it as well.

Right before the Rainbow Bridge, a large bear woman that taught Fledge how to light a fire palms them a small single bladed axe, sadly stepping away before Merle notices. Fledge hides it in the folds of their feathery cloak.

Fledge had never gone over the Rainbow Bridge before that day. Children were forbidden from playing near it, and were never to even think about playing around the Spiral Door beyond it.

They were dragged into the Door, afraid and still dazed, speechless and without the mobility to sign anything either. Then they were pulled through, and it hurts, like their being is pulled apart and put back together. They don’t know if it’s homesickness setting in already or the Door.

Their first impression of Wizard City was that it was weird.

Who keeps their Door in a real living being?

Later, when Fledge learns theoretical physics, they’ll hate the concept of that even more.

They almost pass out from the stress of it, and are very confused when the people around them don’t speak Grizzleheim’s language, having to switch their mind to work with Common. The only thing that anchors them is the coolness of a metal axe blade against their spine, hidden.

They’re introduced as a boy.

Fledge isn’t a boy. They just pick and choose what to wear, sometimes ask to be a boy or a girl when they feel like it, but they won’t ever be a boy always.

They aren’t awake enough anymore to be angry.

A professor with hair like fire in a big stupid curl calls them cute when they wake up. She touches their dreadlocks without permission and it takes everything inside them to not burn her alive for it.

They learned ruthlessness in Grizzleheim from the Wolves and the Bears, but right now they needed the Raven cunning to get back home.

Fledge plays dumb, mostly. They pretend to not know how to write Common, only understanding speech. Every single student and professor treats them like a baby, except for the bald one who looks like he ate rotten berries.

It works for a few weeks, and they fall into a bit of a routine. Stay in their dorm, sit in a classroom and sleep, wander around as if lost when really they’re looking for escape routes, some way to get into the big tree without the permission others seem to need.

It’s not until someone starts trash talking their home world that they blow their cover.

It’s some arrogant death wizard with a rat familiar always perched on his shoulder. Even his peers seem to dislike him, but they still laugh when he insults the people of Grizzleheim.

It’s then that Fledge says, in perfect Common, “Take it back or I duel you and you lose.”

And, well, the boy couldn’t refuse that challenge, even if others seem unnerved that Fledge can speak at all. The death wizard says he’ll go easy on Fledge.

Fledge shrugs, eyes wide as they enter the dueling arena. As soon as the battle array lights up, they pull out a thick deck of cards and the axe they were given, now glowing in ancient Grizzleheim runes, the silver blade reflecting flames that aren’t there.

It only takes a few turns to cast an oversized, screeching phoenix and simultaneously terrify and defeat the boy in one hit.

After that, Fledge walks past all of the shocked students and goes back to their dorm to nap.

The adults tell Fledge to go to the later classes, the ones for older students. The people here are even taller and even meaner at times. Fledge doesn’t ignore assignments now, only answering them in ancient Grizzleheim runes that no one but a few people from their home world could decipher.

Most of the students begin avoiding them, speaking lies about them.

Then the death school falls, and thirty kids along with it. The death professor is blamed, and now every competent wizard is sent to clear monsters from the residential areas of the world.

Fledge has always had a temper. And finally being able to fight something for real, to not hold anything back and vent their frustration?

They may have cracked off a few areas of Firecat Alley on accident, but they do clear out every enemy, so they technically followed orders, only with the other three members on their team having to stay back to not get their flesh melted off their bones.

Maybe they ran away.

Anyway, as soon as Fledge gets back to Ravenwood, Merle Fucking Ambrose is there, and he says Fledge needs to find Professor Malistaire Drake, to defeat the man before the Spiral is destroyed.

The only reason Fledge says yes is because Grizzleheim is in the Spiral, so the whole universe shouldn’t be destroyed.

They’re given a few keys, and told that Krokotopia would be their first stop.

Krokotopia is hot and dry and they hate it in their raven feather cloak and thick leather tunic. They persevere, and play dumb with the dogs because they know the dogs can’t help it, they’re like wolves, but wrong and stupid.

It takes only a few battles in the first pyramid for enemies to start running away from them. They follow leads, dragging dogs out of trouble because they tend to babble out new information, and eventually they get to the second pyramid.

They love the Colosseum, because it has honor to it. More honor than Wizard City could ever have, much more than the Marleybone dogs. It reminds them of home, of proving yourself with your strength.

After the second pyramid, they stay with the Krok in the balance school for a few days, getting their wounds tended to and learning a bit. With their knack for languages they have conversational Krokotopian learned in a couple of days, and they start on their ancient runes too before remembering themself. They rush off to the last pyramid with trade promises between Krokotopia and Grizzleheim running through their head, occupying their thoughts.

The third pyramid is easy as well, though the dead things unnerve Fledge. It’s not simply the fact that they are dead, it’s that they never got their peace, or were brought back to this realm by a dark force.

Fledge delights in defeating Krokopatra, who actually has strategy, and is the first difficult opponent they’ve faced. She still dissolves into sand after revealing that the secret they’re looking for is in Marleybone, but they let her die with honor, with a fairer fight than most got.

Marleybone is just annoying. They run around on rooftops, growling back at dogs who dare to call them uncivilized, and they fix their gang problem within a week with brutal efficiency. The Krokonomicon is no longer in Meowiarty’s hands, though.

If Fledge melts the interior of the huge clock tower, no one alive is around to tell the tale.

They move onto Mooshu now, their last key, their only way to get to Dragonspyre. The culture shock is startling, but learning the languages of the world is the most interesting thing they’ve been able to do in the past half a year since they were kidnapped.

This world takes much longer. With Fledge more sympathetic to their plight, they spend more time doing it right instead of the easier way that ‘technically’ accomplishes their goal. Mooshu’s connection to nature makes them take the longer routes most times, as opposed to razing down their pretty trees and bamboo forests.

They team up with some wizards from Mooshu who are looking for others to help heal their poisoned emperor, to heal the land itself as well.

It takes six months before Fledge stands before the last oni, able to roar back at it with the perfect Mooshu accent and dialect in response to its taunts. They take this battle alone, and it drags on for hours before the Jade Oni falls, the sick form of the emperor taking its place.

Fledge gets the Dragonspyre key, and for the first time feels homesick for a world other than Grizzleheim when they leave.

Dragonspyre is awful. They retch at the stench of brimstone, looking miserably up at the professor from Wizard City who only looks at them pityingly before saying “You got taller.”

Fledge figures if they had to send a child on a mission to murder their sibling they’d be upset too, so they don’t let it phase them. They struggle through Dragonspyre, having to make sense of long dead ghosts and crazed drakes. They travel through time and see a world like Wizard City, and don’t mourn that it’s gone. They spend months getting approval from specters.

Eventually they’re able to travel into the husk that once was Dragonspyre Academy. They speak to the tree left there, and she’s joyful. They learn the ancient Dragonspyrian tongue from her because she seems far too lonely. They promise to visit again each time they have to leave on a new mission in order to finally scale the Great Spyre, and every time Ashley is surprised they come back alive.

Fledge gets to hatch an actual drake. They feel it bump against the thick shell, sitting there at the base of Ashley's trunk. Fledge uses their raven feather cloak as a nest for the giant egg. They cry for the first time in years when the little drake is born, aging rapidly in front of their eyes until its large enough to carry Fledge, though still stumbling like a newborn deer.

Fledge plays for the first time in years too, rolling around and wrestling with the baby drake, chasing and being chased, until Ashley has to remind them of their goal.

It’s two years after being kidnapped when they fly up to the top of the Great Spyre, axe in hand, a drake of their own at their side now, refusing to leave Fledge for even a moment.

They tear through the preliminary forces of undead, reaching Malistaire completely unscathed. The man is surprised, staring at Fledge.

“You’re so small.” His voice cracks, bloodshot eyes wide. “You’re a child- no, no- please-!”

Fledge is numb to it all. Two years of this. They weren’t going to wait for some monologue to end it. The Dragon Titan eyes the scene with one sleepy eye, before rumbling contentedly and falling asleep once again.

Fledge has to dig through Malistaire’s ashes to find the Krokonomicon, but when they do find it they toss it off the world as hard as they can, and hop onto their Drake’s back, flying back down to speak to Ashley again before they have to leave for the last time.

In the end, they return to the Basilica to see the still living Drake brother, only nodding grimly when asked if it was done. Professor Drake’s grip on their shoulder is shaky when they go through the Spiral Door to Wizard City.

The students crowd around, awed by them, still calling them a boy, still asking why they are so silent, still trying to touch their now longer hair.

Fledge is dazed, and their drake is confused, only able to make sure no one gets to close. Eventually they’re saved by the same death student they had beat in a duel two years ago, the arrogant boy now with one less arm and a more subdued attitude, and Fledge gets to drink tea for the first time since Mooshu.

Fledge dozes off in the abandoned Nightside house Caleb had been fixing up into a home. They watch the boy who once yelled at them, was once defeated by them, and has now saved them from a cyclical fate. Fledge finds themself crying when they notice Caleb is, and they curl into their drake’s warmth, lulled into sleep by the promise of safety at last.

Fledge is ten years old when their world is starting to be put back together.

#Wiztober #Wiztober2019 #Inktober #Inktober2019 #Wizard101 #Writing #Fledge #Caleb Deathleague #my oc #my ocs #wizard 101 #wizzy101 #wiz101 #w101 #wizzy

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allofthefeelings · 5 years

Note

"But the idea that which characters we favor and who we ship is entirely out of our control was suspect when I got started in fandom in the 1990s." Why should I bother to "control" it? I don't owe any particular ship my fannish time and attention, just because some self-important meta writer claims it's more "progressive." I'm here to imagine hot men boning. End of story. This crap should've been left on Dreamwidth.

I’m not sure if my post was unclear or you’re just picking a fight, but I’m going to assume the former for the moment.

You’re right. You don’t owe anyone any explanation for what you like or why you like it- right up until you say that what you like is the objectively correct position. I’m sorry if I implied otherwise; the LAST thing I want is people “eating their vegetables” with fandom and in the process making it less fun for everyone. People are absolutely allowed to have preferences, and it’s not my place to police what those are. (And I don’t really care if anyone’s fandom experience is “progressive” by whatever metric you’re using.)

But when people say that all male characters are just more interesting than the female ones, the implicit argument is that those of us who love female characters are somehow wrong (or at least misguided) to see them as worthy of our time and energy. My problem is specifically with that claim of objectivity, which implies that there are no factors that could influence a viewer to exclusively prefer male characters; female characters are just intrinsically less valuable.

You play in your sandbox, I’ll play in mine, and not only is that cool but I will frequently come over to admire the castles you’re building. But when you say that what I love is by definition less valuable, then yes, I have a problem. Either we don’t judge how anyone does fandom, or everyone is equally under the microscope. And once people say “male characters are just more interesting” which carries with it the corollary that female characters are less so, I get... well, just as defensive as you are in this ask when you read it as me telling you that you have to defend your right to love what you love.

#allofthereplies #Anonymous #how does fandom #meta

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gaycrouton · 5 years

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Relentless

Words of Lust 18/27 [ A fight between Mulder and Scully ends in a dramatic climax.] (budum tss)

Relentless: (adjective) oppressively constant; incessant.

(After Never Again)

It was none of his fucking business. He didn’t need to know how long it’s been since she’d been touched in the way her body craved. He didn’t need to know the only reason she was interested in Ed Jerse in the first place was because he reminded her of Mulder; the self deprecation, the puppy dog eyes, the hair, the strong jaw. Hell, if she imagined hard enough, it was Mulder grabbing her and kissing the breath out of her lungs, but imagination was never her strong suit.

She couldn’t ignore the different cologne, the lack of Mulder’s charm, the sense that violence was lurking beyond one wrong move, that damn ‘talking tattoo’. She thought she could live out the fantasy of being with Mulder vicariously through this man, but sometimes fantasies are just cruel. He didn’t need to know the way her body completely froze when her imagination was too weak and the reality that another man was taking off her clothes became too much, or that she laid alone all night in Ed Jerse’s bed, pretending it was Mulder’s shirt adoring her naked, lonely, unsatisfied body.

He didn’t need to know, but part of her wanted to tell him, to just blurt it out. Ever since she came back from Philadelphia, Mulder’s been acting like a different person. It was like he was eternally agitated and didn’t know how to act around her. The eyes the used to roam her body when he thought she wasn’t looking now were a mystery to her; the hands that would gently touch her now avoided all contact; and the voice that use to give her words of comfort and endearment was now cold and distant.

Maybe it was fear manifesting as anger, maybe he was just upset because she almost died and he thinks he drove her to it. They were bickering before she left and now it was worse. She just wanted to be seen as his equal, his partner, to be treated like her opinion mattered and that her work on the X-Files meant something. It wasn’t just because of the fucking desk. The fact he doesn’t see what not having a desk means about their power dynamic was just frustrating.

But she wasn’t going to tell him. No. That would just exacerbate the problem. Her saying, “Don’t worry, Mulder. I almost fucked Jerse, but I couldn’t go through with it because I want you” was essentially her just reporting back to him, “Don’t worry, I’m still your pristine, untouched partner, Mulder. Loyal to you and the X-Files exclusively.” He would be relieved, but it would further romanticize the idea that she only lived to be his sidekick and did whatever he wanted. She wanted him to realize she wanted more out of life than just work, and she really wanted him to realize she wanted him to be a part of that life too.

Instead, he took her adventure as a personal attack. Now, a week later, they were driving to their first case post-Jerse, and the tension was deafening. Small talk was almost non-existent because, when it happened, it was met with short, choppy answers from both parties. The coldness left her mouth before she could even stop it. She didn’t want things to be this way, she wanted it to get better and move on, but everytime he was short with her, she had to retaliate. It was a defense mechanism, blame it on her irish temper.

They were driving to a motel in Apex, North Carolina. Apparently entire families were disappearing for no reason. After deciding to take on the case, Mulder snidely asked her if it was interesting enough for her, “Sorry Scully, I can’t guarantee this case will have any handsome, dangerous men on it.” Asshole . It was about a four and a half hour ride and it was spent in relative silence. She had to pee for about an hour now, but she would rather eat glass than ask anything of him right now. They were only a few towns away, so she just decided to suffer. Since they expected to get there so late, they were just going to pick up reports the police left with the front desk and go over them before calling it a night. She glanced down at her watch to check the time when Mulder decided to speak up for maybe the fifth time the whole trip.

“Sorry if you’re bored, we’re about ten to fifteen minutes away.” On a normal basis, the sentence would have been fine, but right now it was laced with exasperation.

“Thanks,” she sighed unenthusiastically, letting her wrist drop onto her lap dramatically.

“Did I do something to piss you off? You’ve been standoffish this whole time,” he asked. Her jaw practically dropped open at the hypocrisy.

“I’m being standoffish?” she repeated incredulously. “You’ve been treating me like shit for days.”

“No I’m no-,” he stopped himself mid-sentence and just let out a tired breath, taking one hand off the wheel to run it through his hair. “I’m sorry if you feel that way.” For the first time in days, he sounded sincere, but his words gave her no comfort.

“I don’t just feel that way, you are. You’ve been punishing me for days for nothing,” she exclaimed. She turned her head to look at him and caught that he had been looking at her, his eyes quickly snapping back to the road when they met hers. She noticed his jaw was slightly clenched.

“Nothing,” he repeated the word as if it was a punchline to a morbid joke, but he offered nothing else. They were almost to the hotel, and she was honestly too tired to do this right now. She had spent the last week making up hypothetical arguments Mulder would throw at her and preparing her own snappy comebacks, perfecting her cool glare in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and ran through the imaginary scenarios, but none came to mind right now. It was ridiculous, but so was all this.

She just sighed and sat in silence the rest of the ride, the car felt hollow from the familiarity and pleasantry that should have been there. When the hotel came into sight, her irritation was replaced by her bladder’s reminder that she had to pee. Even though they were fighting right now, their routine still stayed in place. Without saying a word, Scully got out to get the keys and files from the front desk as Mulder unpacked the car. She came out and just told him what rooms they had, pleased to see him follow wordlessly with their bags in hand. They exchanged her bag for his key and the files. “I want to take a quick shower before I read the files. When you’re done with them, would you mind dropping them off in my room?” she asked.

“Will do,” he replied, opening his door and walking inside without so much as a second glance.She quickly went into her room, grabbed her shower things, and headed to the bathroom. She was honestly relieved to be out of Mulder’s sight for the first time in hours, something she never expected to happen.

After finally peeing, she stood up and stripped out of her business clothes. She stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at herself. Scully was surprised to see she looked thinner than normal, the bones of her ribs standing out ever so lightly against nearly translucent, pale skin. The words from Leonard Betts still rang clearly in her head, “You have something I need.” She unconsciously touched her fingers lightly to where Betts had pointed on her forehead. She was worried about the implications of what he meant, deep down the fear continued to grow, but she didn’t want to deal with it right now. She had no one to confide in, and the whole thing just made her feel more alone.

She ran her hand over her face and through her hair as if to rid herself of the stress. Focusing back on the task at hand, she turned on the shower, but before jumping in, turned to look at the new tattoo on her lower back. It had finally all peeled and was stark and vivid against her skin. Regardless of the events surrounding it, she liked the tattoo and what it meant to her.

Her shower was relatively event less. She took this moment of peace to ignore the outside stress plaguing her life. She just wanted to get clean, go to bed, and wake up to everything being normal again. She turned off the stream after about ten minutes and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in the motel’s uncomfortable, terry cloth towel. After exiting the bathroom, she made her way to her haphazardly discarded suitcase and rummaged around for her pyjamas, which just consisted of black sweatpants and a white tee-shirt. She had just slid the sweatpants up her legs when Mulder’s voice rang out behind her.

“Scully, do you want these files?” he called out from the other side of the adjoining door. Her’s was already open, but his had remained shut.

“In a second,” she called out. Apparently he misheard her because his adjoining door swung open and she heard him stutter a shocked apology as he took in the sight of her bare back. She quickly put her arms through the sleeves of her white t-shirt and pulled it over her head, fighting to roll the hem down her damp sides until it met the waistband of her cotton, black sweatpants.

“What is it? Or am I not allowed to ask?” His question came out with a veil of disdain and she was surprised to turn around and see he hadn’t moved from his spot at the doorway.

She was shocked that he hadn’t averted his gaze to give her privacy, and his meaning was lost on her. “What’re you talking about, Mulder?” she sighed in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, I thought getting a new addition to your body would be memorable,” he sneered, strutting towards her slowly. Under normal circumstances, him walking in on her while she was changing would have been humorous, and they both probably would have acted like shy teenagers. However, the tension present during the car ride had permeated into the room, creating an unpleasant miasma that was almost suffocating, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“I’m sorry, I thought the common manner of not walking in on your partner while she’s half naked was memorable,” she sneered back, standing up straighter to glare at him.

“It was an accident, but I figured you wouldn’t mind since modesty doesn’t seem to be a concern of yours as of late,” he snapped defensively, as if he was offended she was implying he intruded on purpose. She was praying her face didn’t betray how harshly his words stung. It also made her become hyper aware of the transparency of her shirt, and she had to fight the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest.

“Excuse me?” she balked in almost a whisper, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, was that out of line?” His tone implied he didn’t care if it was. “I just find it funny that you meet a man for one weekend and you’re caught in his apartment wearing his clothes, but your partner of four years, and as far as I was aware, close friend, sees your back and that’s too much? Why did you get a tattoo there if you don’t want anyone to see it anyway?”

“It’s my body and I can do whatever I want with it,” she spat.

“Or whoever,” he replied snidely. Irritation and frustration were practically pulsing through her veins. She’d be surprised if he couldn’t see her veins popping out under her skin.

“What the fuck is your problem, Mulder?” she seethed in a breathy whisper. “These past few years I must have done things you haven’t agreed with, lord knows you love to try my patience, so what’s different now? Where do you get off treating me like this? What do you want, Mulder? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg your forgiveness? Do you want me to hate myself?”

He stared at her a few moments, the silence between them so charged it had its own heartbeat. For a moment, she thought he was going to turn around and leave when his defeated voice broke the silence. “How do you think I felt when I got the call that my partner was in the hospital after being almost murdered? Beaten, infected with a drug, and almost killed, all because I forced you to go on a mission you hadn’t even wanted to go on in the first place. You only went because I asked and treated you like shit for not jumping at the opportunity.”

“Was I supposed to detect some remorse when you came into my hospital room or when you saw me at work and just made fun of me? Was I expected to read between the lines and find an apology through your relentless jokes at my expense?” she retorted.

“What was I supposed to say when I saw the case report and I read the escapades of a woman I couldn’t even recognize on the page? What were you thinking?” he asked, looking at her like she grew a third head.

“Mulder, millions of people get tattoos, it’s nothing t-” she started before getting cut off.

“I’m not talking about the tattoo,” he blurted, raising his voice.

“Then what are you talking about, Mulder?” she shouted back, tired of this game.

“Why would you sleep with him?” Mulder shouted, taking her off guard. She was stunned into silence and he let out a stressed breath before talking again at a lower volume. “Scully, the report made it sound like he was being a total creep before you went back with him. You’re a brilliant woman, I just don’t understand why you would disregard your own life like that. For what, a lay?”

“We put ourselves in danger on every case we go on,” she was going to say more but he jumped in once again.

“ Cases , yes, Scully, not during our personal time. The file explicitly stated people had come by and saw you wearing his clothes and that you had spent the night there.”

She stood for a moment, simply watching him, really taking in his appearance for the first time in a while. It was easy to miss the signs of exhaustion when she was avoiding eye contact for a week on end, but now she could see the bags under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, and his overall disheveled appearance. He looked sincerely bothered and upset. All her prior fury started to fade as she realized they were both just assuming the worst and lashing out at each other. She decided to just put the truth out on the table. They never were good at keeping secrets from each other anyhow. She let out a little sigh before averting her gaze to the floor and admitting in a mumble, “I only had to stay there because of the storm. I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

When she glanced at him through her lashes, she was met with a completely shocked expression, distress written all over his blanched face. His voice came out almost as a choked whisper as he tentatively asked, “Scully, did he force himself on you?” She was taken aback by the question until she realized she hadn’t exactly phrased her confession in the best way. She was touched nonetheless by his concern.

She took a step towards him, waving her hand in dismissal, “No, no, I’m sorry. I phrased that wrong.” He closed his eyes and visibly relaxed at her admittance, only to tense up again at her next statement, “I mean, he kissed me a few times, it seemed like we were going to have sex, but I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Why not?” he pried. She analyzed his face and saw no judgment this time around, purely curiosity.

If being honest would get them over this roadblock in their relationship, then so be it. “I just wanted to feel something. Have it be recognized that my life was more than just my investment in work. It’s hard coming home an empty apartment. I get sad realizing that I don’t have someone who is genuinely excited when they see me. Maybe my mom, but that’s different. Jerse was interested, and I liked that. When we got to his place and he was touching and grabbing me, I realized superficial appreciation isn’t a good substitute for what I want,” she explained, dismissively shrugging her shoulders in acceptance.

She was pleased that he had let her speak without interruption. When she looked up, she saw he was giving her his purest kicked puppy dog stare. “I’m genuinely excited when I see you,” he admitted softly.

She smiled at him, but reminded, “You’ve been mean to me recently. You made it sound like you don’t trust my judgement and that I’m incompetent at my job.”

His brows furrowed and he started shaking his head immediately, “No, no-Scully. I trust you implicitly, and I think you’re the most rational, level-headed person I have ever met. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just-” He stopped to consider his words as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like I only get to see you at work. It’s one of my favorite topics, and the only one I don’t feel intrusive asking you about. When you sound tired of it, I get scared.”

He sounded so vulnerable as he said this, she felt like he was bearing a part of his private thoughts to her. She couldn’t help but pry a little more, “Scared of what?”

“Scared that you’ll leave me,” he whispered. Realization hit her like a truck. He hadn’t been lashing out at her because he thought she was bad at her job, a weak link to the X-Files. He was lashing out at her because he saw her lack of dedication to the X-Files as a lack of dedication to him. In his eyes, she left him to go on a rendezvous with another man.

“Mulder,” she prompted, getting his attention. “Were you jealous of Jerse?”

“Jealous of a man who thought his tattoo could talk and tried to kill you. I’m afraid not. I was just worried about you.” He may have been convincing if his words hadn’t come out in a rush, and if, when he heard the word ‘jealousy’, his eyes hadn’t flitted down quickly to her t-shirt clad chest.

“I’ve had to deal with worry regarding people trying to kill you time and time again, but never have I lashed out at you and made it seem like it was your fault,” she informed, not wanting to provoke him, but wanting him to see her point.

He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it before anything came out. Instead, he took a moment to absorb her words before declaring, “You’ve ignored my questions.”

Her brow furrowed at the topic change, not fully following him. “What questions?”

“What’s your tattoo of?” he reiterated.

“It’s an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail,” she informed. He nodded appreciatively, analyzing this new information, “Do you want to see it?” she offered. He nodded, stepping a bit closer. She turned around and lifted up the hem of her shirt to her waist as she felt him get on his knees behind her. He placed one hand on her bare waist to steady himself as he looked at it.

“What does it mean?” he asked, his breath tickling the fine hairs and flesh of her back.

“I don’t want my life to ever be stagnant, I don’t want to be in that endless line of two steps forward, three steps back,” she said reiterating her words from earlier. “Life is a cycle, and it’s just a reminder that I want a circular pattern of growth and development, not falling into the patterns that have plagued me. It’s just a personal reminder to myself.” It sounded cheesy when she said it out loud, but she had no doubts Mulder would understand.

He was silent for a moment, and she almost jumped when she felt his fingers tentatively reach out to trace the tattoo, his feather light touch floating around her back. She was embarrassed at the goosebumps that she knew were littering her whole body. Mulder’s hand strayed off course and she knew he was feeling them, probably with a cocky smirk on his face. His hand ended up parallel to his other one, now both of them grabbing her bare waist. She was about to ask what he was doing when she felt his lips press tenderly in the middle of where she knew the circle was. She accidentally gasped lightly from surprise and her body suddenly felt hot under his attention.

He raised himself up, not removing his hands, so she was still turned around as he murmured, “There’s one last question you hadn’t answered.” She made a verbal acknowledgement, prompting him to continue. “Why couldn’t you go through with having sex with Jerse”

“I told you, I-” she stopped when she felt him lean closer, his breath making her hair flutter a bit.

“You said superficial appreciation wasn’t a good substitute for what you want. So, what is it you want?” he asked.

You, she thought to herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to be that bold. She was too flustered at his closeness. “I want to be valued, loved.”

His thumbs were tracing little circles into her skin as he leaned closer, so that his mouth was at her ear. “By anyone?” She shook her head. “By someone specific?” He felt like he was getting impossibly closer. She nodded in response, feeling her hair graze his face lightly. “Who?” he asked.

Her heart was pounding so hard it was almost deafening, maybe that’s what led her to be so bold, she couldn’t hear her mind trying to be rational. She turned her head and was met with his adoring face, staring at her like she was the only person on the planet. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, instead she just took her eyes from his own down to his lips, licking her own subconsciously. For once, Mulder picked up on her subtle hints exactly like she wanted him to. He leaned closer as she did the same, stopping when their lips met for the first time.

Though it was their first kiss, it felt overwhelmingly familiar. She presumed if you imagined something for so long about someone you knew so well, you were bound to be accurate about a few aspects. She had always known that he would wait for her to deepen the kiss, and that when her tongue ran along his bottom lip, he would open his mouth as if accepting a precious gift. She knew his hands would roam her body with reverence, only getting confident at her encouragement. After she deepened the kiss, she swiveled her body in his grasp, moving so that they were front to front, his erection making itself known as it pressed eagerly into her abdomen. As she did this, his hands wandered up her shirt, stroking the smooth expanse of her back, fingering the delicate line of her spine like he was strumming a harp. She knew their kisses would only break when the need for breath was too much. She bit his lip gently as she pulled away, watching his eyes open to reveal dilated pupils beaming down at her.

“How could I be with him, when all I wanted was you?” she panted with an exerted voice. She needed to imprint this to her mind; be sweet to Mulder, and he will blush. It was painfully cute watching a sweet smile spread across his face as he looked down at her, a rosy dust spreading across his cheeks. How the night could have gone from tense, ill-placed animosity to this, she would never know. All she knew was that she was grateful to be in his arms right now.

“I’m sorry for earlier. My behavior was uncalled for, I was just scared of losing you,” he lamented, brushing some stray hairs from her face.

“That’ll never happen,” she reassured before crashing her lips back on his for a second time. This time was a bit more frenzied, fueled by their mutual desire to reconcile this past week, mixed with the relief that they had both been operating under misconceptions. His hands were now all the way up her back underneath her shirt, one hand at the base of her neck and the other sprawled across her shoulder blades. From how stretched out her shirt was, she disentangled her arms from the sleeves, glad when he took the hint and helped her out of it, tossing it in the corner of the room.

As soon as her head was free, she wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tip-toes and suckled at various points of flesh she could reach. His jaw bone, his neck, his pulse point, all eliciting very different, but equally erotic, sounds from Mulder. After one particularly playful nip to his collarbone, he surprised her by bending down and grabbing her around the waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder. “Ah! Mulder!” she playfully giggled from her awkward position. He laughed at her exclamation as he placed her down on the bed.

She laid down on her back, feeling inexplicably racy from the sensation of the bedspread against her bare back and the chill of the air conditioned air against her exposed breasts. Mulder took a moment to appreciate her sprawled, prone form, a sensuous gleam in his eye. He wanted to keep the playing ground fair so, before he joined her on the bed, he lifted his shirt up and off his body, throwing it in the same direction as hers. During his admiration, she lifted a leg off the bed and ran her foot up and down his inner thigh, only blocked by the fabric of his jeans. As he was temporarily blinded by his shirt, she went the extra few inches up and stroked his engorged erection, causing him to buck against her foot.

When his face was revealed, the smile was dimmed, replaced by an expression of poorly repressed pleasure. He practically collapsed on her, keeping most of his weight on his forearms bracketing her small frame. “Scully, are you trying to kill me?” he groaned as her hand kept doing the job her foot had been moments ago.

“No, I have different intentions for you right now,” she teased, switching from stroking to fully groping his cock. As his eyes rolled back with a loud moan, she deftly undid his belt and whipped it off in one fell swoop. As she was going for his button and fly, he grabbed her wrist gently to pause her.

She looked up at him and saw him gazing down at her with intense desire, “We can’t go back after this, are you comfortable with that?” His voice was much deeper than normal and the timbre went straight to her clit.

She lifted her knee a bit to graze him as she soothed, “I’ll never want to go back from this, this is what I want.” Mulder unleashed his feral side at her words and quickly stood up, hooking his fingers under her waistband and taking her sweatpants down her legs. Without taking his eyes off her, he undid the zipper of his jeans and discarded them callously. He put on knee on the bed when he quickly stepped back, realization coming through the cloud of lust.

She was about to ask what he was doing when he held a finger up in the air, instead, she sat up on her elbows and watched as he bent down and grabbed his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. When his wallet was in his hand she watched him look through every compartment, bringing out a plethora of coupons, a rewards card for Blockbuster, some sporadic dollar bills, a picture of herself and one of the Lone Gunmen. He made grunts of displeasure with every failure, but after turning it upside down and shaking it, a lone condom fell to the floor. She couldn’t help but laugh at the struggle he just went through and he looked up at her and gave an amused shrug, “What can I say? I haven’t needed this in years.”

He stood up and walked towards the bed, fiddling with the packaging. Scully sat up on the edge of the bed to meet him, practically face to face with his bobbing erection. “Please, let me do it,” she requested in a throaty voice she barely recognized. He placed the square of foil delicately in her hand. Glancing down at it the wrapper read ‘For her pleasure.’ How thoughtful, Mulder. She brought it to her lips and tore the perforated edge, blowing it out of her mouth and onto the floor. After extracting the condom from the wrapper, she threw the rest of the trash on the floor so she could focus on the task at hand.

Before putting on the condom, she glanced at Mulder’s full length and it was impressive. It twitched playfully in the air under her gaze and she shot Mulder an amused look, only to receive a flirtatious wink. It was already glistening from precum, but she wanted to make sure the shaft was lubricated to make the application easier, so she lifted her free hand and stroked him firmly up and down a few times, coating him in his own lubrication. Mulder bucked involuntarily into her hand and threw his head back.

She felt her body tingling in response to his arousal, and she lifted the condom to his tip and slid it down, utilizing both hands. When she was confident it was on right, she looked up at him coyly, meeting his lust-hooded gaze and placed a sweet kiss to the tip of his erection, never taking her eyes off him.

Within a beat, he swooped down and eased her further onto the bed, setting himself a top of her while groaning, “Fuck, you’re so hot, I love you.”

Her clit throbbed at his words and she arched her shoulders off the bed to capture his lips in another kiss, easing one hand in between their bodies to grab his cock and ease it into her wet heat. He thrust into her a few times experimentally, trying to maintain contact with her lips. She ended up breaking the kiss, her hands shooting to his back in pleasure, trying to encourage him to go faster. Instructions he took without question. He took this moment to finally get to play with her breast, moving both his hands so he could play with kneading them in his palms. A perfect fit. As he did this, he would tweak her nipples, studying her face to see what she liked best and adapting immediately.

She was rocking against him with as much momentum as she could, but it wasn’t enough. With momentum she didn’t know she had, she rocked him onto his back and situated herself on top of him. His face contorted into pure bliss, small beads of sweat gathering on his brow from exertion.

Her entire body felt like it was on fire under his gaze. It felt like she could do anything and he would still cherish her. She placed her palms flat against his chest and started rocking herself. Timidly at first, evaluating how she needed to move to avoid him sliding out of her, but after she got a handle on it, her movements became frantic and wild, riding him like it was the last thing she would ever do.

Mulder’s back arched sinfully off the bed as his head lolled from side to side, lost in pleasure. His hands instinctively shot to her hips and gripped with bruising force, helping her body gyrate on top of his. The sounds they were making were borderline pornographic. Between the relentless moans, pants, and whines and the slapping of his thighs against hers, she was surprised they weren’t getting noise complaints.

Hearing Mulder’s little grunts of pleasures and groans of appreciation made her realize how much the human voice was an aphrodisiac. With every sound, her clit’s need for release became more and more desperate. After a particularly good thrust that hit her g-spot just right, she sank onto him with reckless abandon. Grinding against him so hard they might as well blend into one. She had never been so fully connected to another human being before. Every inch of her crotch and inner thigh was attached to him. His balls were rubbing tortuously against her ass and the friction of her clit against his pubic bone was indescribable.

Her orgasm snuck up on her hard and fast. Her entire body went rigid as she convulsed against him, he was gently thrusting into her to help her prolong her orgasm as he watched her lose herself in rapture. She lazily undulated her body against his until she was spent. She took a moment to catch her breath, gulping in lungfuls of air. “That was the single hottest thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life,” he praised.

She sent him a sated smile and she felt his cock twitch against her clenched muscles in response. “Your turn,” she purred before violently thrusting against him again. This time she eased forward so that her breasts were rubbing against his chest and she could kiss his neck. He wrapped his arms around her back, keeping her pressed to him, as he sat upwards, so they were both upright with Scully on his lap. He started to thrust into her with reckless abandon, a man on a mission, and it was painfully sensual.

He placed a shaky hand to the side of her neck and brought her face down for another kiss, this time, as soon as their tongues touched, he moaned into her mouth and started shaking. She bit his lip before pulling back to watch his orgasm take over him. His jaw was agape in pleasure as his eyes bore into hers. She was just as patient with him as he had been with her, riding him until he was spent.

When he was done they both chuckled shyly at the new, much quieter, volume of the room. He quickly leaned off the bed so he could throw the condom in the trash and grab his discarded t-shirt. He carefully used the shirt to blot her forehead from sweat, followed by his own, before gently putting it between her thighs and wiping her clean, throwing it on the ground afterwards. The amount of care and dedication he took to making sure she was comfortable made her heart ache in happiness.

He yawned and she involuntarily did the same from watching him. The eased themselves under the covers, absolutely sated. She nuzzled closer to him, using his arm as a pillow, and sighed in contentment. Glazing up at him through sleepy eyes she beamed, “I love you too, Mulder.”

The smile that tugged on his lips broke as soon as his eyes peaked open, instead replaced by worry, “Scully, your nose is bleeding.”

#msr #msr smut #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #mulder and scully #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction #words of lust #never again #ed jerse

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backgroundensemble · 5 years

Note

Okay, don't get me wrong, I love all my newsboys, but sometimes I have a hard time remembering which is which. Is there like a master post somewhere with a bunch of labeled pictures or something? Please help me tell my boys apart.

Okay, here we go! A comprehensive guide to the Newsies! Under the cut because holy shit

(This only refers to the Live recording. Not bootlegs, not OBC, not the 1992 movie. I’m not doing the main Newsies (Jack, Davey, Race, Les, Katherine, and Spot) because they are obvious)

Albert

Portrayed by: Sky Flaherty (rhymes with charity)

Noticeable traits: Red hair, backwards cap, arm muscles

Noticeable lines: “A leg of lamb,” “Nobbin with all the mockety-mocks,” “Ever think about getting into moving pictures? Buy a ticket, they let anyone in!”

Noticeable actions: Hugs Race a lot, dances with a stick in KONY, center stage in Seize the Day (can’t abbreviate that one :/ )

Buttons

Portrayed by: Chaz Wolcott

Noticeable traits: face structure and shape (hard to describe but very easily to pick out of a crowd), thin build, smile

Noticeable lines: “He sold her for a box of cigars!” “A mother and a father?” “I won’t be last in line for the tub tonight!!”

Noticeable actions: Dances with a broom in KONY,

Elmer

Portrayed by: Anthony Zas

Noticeable traits: S m i l e, thicker build

Noticeable lines: “I dunno, sister, but it’s bound to rain sooner or later” “Just give me half a cup!” “I guarantee!”

Noticeable actions: Smiling literally all the time,

Others: Also portrays a Brooklyn Newsie in the movie, but although he isn’t named, he is widely accepted as a different character.

Finch

Portrayed by: Iain Young

Noticeable traits: Tall, carries a slingshot in most scenes

Noticeable lines: “Half them strikers is laid up with broke bones!” “Try any banker, bum, or barber. They almost all knows how to read!”

Noticeable actions: Punches the air a lot, very expressive with arms in general, starts wearing just a grey undershirt from Seize the Day through the end of the play

Ike

Portrayed by: David Guzman

Noticeable traits: One of the twins, curly brown hair, blue striped t-shirt, brown socks, grey hat

Noticeable lines: N/A

Noticeable actions: Shirtless in the beginning of the second Newsies Square scene, on stage left of Mike in Carrying the Banner, whimpers like a dog with Davey after the line “Pulitzer’s poodles” in KONY, dances on the stage right table in KONY

JoJo

Portrayed by: Joshua Burrage

Noticeable traits: Tall, large nose, very expressive

Noticeable lines: “Front page and you ain’t even dead!”,

Noticeable actions: Stands on Jack’s stage left during the strike discussion (seriously, just watch his face, he’s so priceless the entire scene), does a lil nod with Race in Carrying the Banner (I’ll have to gif this later, it’s beautiful),

Kenny

Portrayed by: Jack Sippel

Noticeable traits: This one is difficult because Jack Sippel is in two (2) scenes. He’s in Seize the Day and the Finale. But he is in live! So when you see this extra Newsie in the background, now you know his name!!

Noticeable lines: N/A

Noticeable actions: N/A

Other: Jack Sippel also plays Darcy which is this handsome lil guy

but he’s not a Newsie (technically). Also look at that suit. You’re never gonna have a problem picking him out of a crowd.

Kid Blink

Portrayed by: Andy Richardson

Noticeable traits: RED SHIRT????? (thats for brooklyn!), very dark dirt smudge on left cheek, backwards cap

Noticeable lines: “Who are you gonna trust? Them? Or them?”,

Noticeable actions: Scabs, stands next to Specs in Carrying the Banner, one of the two Newsies who doesn’t get a line in the Curdled Coffee sequence

Mike

Portrayed by: Jacob Guzman

Noticeable traits: One of the twins, curly brown hair, plaid long-sleeved shirt, brown hat, blue socks

Noticeable lines: N/A

Noticeable actions: on stage right of Ike in Carrying the Banner, dances on the stage left table in KONY, hugs Race at the end of KONY

Mush

Portrayed by: Nick Masson

Noticeable traits: eyes, butt, wearing just a tank top in KONY

Noticeable lines: “Now there’s a headline even Elmer could sell!” “Papers is all I got,” “Sirens is like lullabies to me. The louder they wail, the better the headline. The better the headline, the better I eat. And the better I eat…”

Noticeable actions: Tries to fight Snyder in Seize the Day, stick fights with Romeo in Carrying the Banner

Romeo

Portrayed by: Nico DeJesus

Noticeable traits: Thick striped shirt, whack-ass socks

Noticeable lines: “You’re out of your league, Kelly!” “Back to the bench, Slugger, you struck outs!” “Methinks the lady needs to be handled by a real man,”

Noticeable actions: Flirts with Katherine and also possibly Darcy, gets freaking DECKED by a cop

Smalls

Portrayed by: Julian DeGuzman

Noticeable traits: the most expressive Newsie. Seriously, watch this guy whenever he’s on screen. energy is at 110% the whole time. Other than that, very little lines/actions

Noticeable lines: N/A

Noticeable actions: N/A

Other: Often written as a girl in fanfics and headcanons due to being portrayed by a women in the Original Broadway Cast

Sniper

Portrayed by: Daniel Switzer

Noticeable traits: Tol, prominant cheekbones, ice blue eyes

Noticeable lines: “Oh, what the hell. My father’s going to kill me anyway!”

Noticeable actions: Scabs

Specs

Portrayed by: Jordan Samuals

Noticeable traits: Glasses

Noticeable lines: “I’ll save you the walk. They upped their price too!” “Queens will be right here backing us up… as soon as we get the nod from Brooklyn,”

Noticeable actions: Gets the note from Crutchie in the refuge to Jack, shows Katherine the rooftop, taps one foot really really fast in KONY like wtf how did he do that?

Tommy Boy

Portrayed by: Michael Dameski

Noticeable traits: Arms, yellow striped shirt, eyebrows on fleek

Noticeable lines: “I’m with you!”

Noticeable actions: Scabs, pretty expressive too actually, he does many of the Newsies!Live exclusive stunts

And then, because I’m Extra:

Bart (Brooklyn Newsie)

Portrayed by: Andrew Wilson

Noticeable traits: Arms

Hotshot (Brooklyn Newsie)

Portrayed by: JP Ferreri

Noticeable traits: gap tooth

Myron (Brooklyn Newsie)

Portrayed by: Stephen Hernandez

Noticeable traits: Toll angry

If I forgot anything or you want me to add anything, let me know!

#newsies #newsies live #newsies 2017 #get to know the characters #background newsies #reference #anon

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bakusquadup · 6 years

Note

If you could, would it be ok to request headcanons (or scenarios, both are so cool) for a soulmate AU in which both feel something similar to ghost pain of the other's quirk (for example, maybe a cold sensation for Todoroki that intensifies/spreads the longer he uses it)? But for your top 5 characters, please!

Hey babe! As I’ve said before, I’ve decided to go back through and answer some old asks. Sorry for how long this took. I decided to go with headcanons but I ran out of ideas halfway through, so I only did 4 characters, sorry (hope the ones I picked are okay). I set it up so the sensations just feel like ghost sensations when the person only uses their quirk a little bit, but become painful when they use it in a more extreme sense (think Deku at 5% vs 100%). Also, I feel like I’ve done something similar to this before, but I don’t quite remember, so sorry if it seems recycled.

Reminder: requests are still closed. Anyway, enjoy!

-Shelley

Todoroki Shouto

It wasn’t difficult to guess what your soulmate’s quirk, what with the hot and cold sensations you would get running through your body on occasion. The only thing you couldn’t understand is why the heat was exclusively on your left side and the cold exclusively on your right.

For the most part, the sensations were easy to deal with, even pleasant on occasion (bless your soulmate for using the cold half on hot days and hot half on cold days), but sometimes if their quirk was active for too long you would start to get hypo- or hyperthermia.

And at some point, you don’t quite remember when exactly because it took a while to notice, your soulmate just stopped using the heat. You started to notice that you were cold more and more often, never getting the counterbalancing heat that used to come with it. You began to worry that maybe they couldn’t use the heat part of their quirk. Or maybe they wouldn’t.

You figured out who your soulmate was when you were sitting at home, watching the UA sports festival (it was amazing to you that all the students competing were the same age as you). There was one particular fight that caught your attention. Todoroki Shouto vs. Midoriya Izuku.

Personally, you had been rooting for Midoriya-kun. He seemed like the underdog, considering he was destroying his arms every time he used his quirk.

But, you started to notice a pattern as you grew colder and colder while watch the event, mirroring Todoroki-kun’s use of his ice quirk. At first, you chalked it up to a simple coincidence. There were probably other people in the world with a quirk that makes things cold. Part of the way through the fight, however, something changed and Todoroki-kun’s left side lit up in a wall of flames and your body went from cold to burning in an instant.

That confirmed it. Your soulmate was the son of Endeavor, hero prodigy, Todoroki Shouto.

Amajiki Tamaki

Your soulmate’s quirk has always confused you. Sometimes your fingers feel all tingly, like they’re made of jelly, sometimes your back aches with the sensation of a phantom limb, sometimes your toes curl up and your feet go all stiff, sometimes its something entirely different that never happens again. As you got older though, the sensations started to become more consistent.

There was one time in middle school where you woke up in the middle of the night feeling like your entire body was wet or covered in some sort of slime and it was most definitely NOT a pleasant sensation. You had immediately gone to take a shower in the hopes that actually being wet would diminish the disgusting feeling. It did not.

By the time you got into high school, the sensations had become pretty regular in what they felt like, where they occurred, and when they occurred. You were relieved to not experience anymore traumatizing events like what you started calling “the slime night” (only in your head though).

You actually ended up meeting Tamaki through Nejire. As a support student at UA, you wound up befriending her when she came into the development studio to get something to support her arms in battle. She’s a very outgoing person and was very easy to befriend. She eventually introduced you to Tamaki and Mirio.

Beyond that point, it took a surprising amount of time to learn that Tamaki was your soulmate. You knew about his quirk and how it worked, but you were very around when he activated it, so you were never able to put two and two together.

You discovered the truth when you walked in on a class 3B training session and Tamaki had wings out. You had been feeling the phantom limb sensation on your back for a while beforehand, but you didn’t think anything of it initially. It wasn’t until Tamaki put the wings away and simultaneously released tentacles from his fingers that you realized.

You had shouted “wait, Tamaki, you’re my soulmate?” in front of the entire class. Tamaki was mortified.

Kirishima Eijirou

People always told you growing up that you would get an idea of what your soulmate’s quirk was based on the ghost sensations you’d feel when they use it. But, you would just experience weird Charley horses in your body, limbs seizing up without explanation. You had absolutely no idea what your soulmate’s quirk was.

The first time you experienced in your entire body was in elementary school and you had been so surprised that you had yelled out, surprising your friends and the teacher standing before the class. It didn’t particularly hurt, it just felt like your muscles went completely rigid. It made it difficult to continue writing.

By the time high school started, all you had determined was that their quirk seemed to be concentrated in their arms or that they used it in their arms the most because both your arms would cramp up at the same time pretty frequently. It usually went away within a moment, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Unfortunately, once you were in high school, it just got worse. And significantly worse at that.

The number of times your entire body was seizing up increased tenfold and occasionally it would go beyond just seizing up. It would be painful and you would end up falling over, rigid as a board. Whatever your soulmate’s quirk was, it was making your life difficult and you had a bone to pick with them.

Luckily for you, the two of you met halfway through your first year. You were walking around with a group of friends downtown when your soulmate activated their quirk. At first, it was just the normal full-body activation, stiff but bearable. They kept it active for a while though and then it got worse. Your entire body was in pain and you fell to the pavement, your friends crowding around in worry (none of them had problems like this with their quirks).

Concerned about you, a boy in a hero costume raced up to you. He looked like he was made of rocks, kneeling next to you, but his appearance dissolved away after a moment and he looked normal again. It was at that time that your muscles relaxed again and you realized the boy was your soulmate. You had shot upright to yell at him

“You! You’re the worst soulmate ever! Do you realize how much I’ve had to deal with?”

Needless to say, he was surprised.

Midoriya Izuku

You had figured out from a pretty early age that you didn’t have a soulmate because you never got any ghost sensations that everyone else did. Your family and friends tried to be supportive, telling you that your soulmate had probably not developed their quirk yet, but when you were getting a few years into elementary school you had completely given up hope. You didn’t have a soulmate and that would have to be something you lived with.

By the time you reached middle school, you had pretty much come to terms with the fact, settling on either finding someone else without a soulmate or someone who didn’t care about their soulmate. A large percentage of people never get to meet their soulmate anyway.

But it all changed when one day a horrific pain ran through your legs and one of your arms. It was terrible, horrific pain, tearing at your muscles, but then it was gone in an instant.

Your parents took you to a doctor to see if anything was wrong, but you were told that there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of your limbs. “Is it possibly from your soulmate’s quirk?” the doctor had asked. It planted the seed in your mind that it was possible. Unlikely, but possible. It got your hopes up.

You experienced the same searing pain a few times over after that, mostly confined to your fingers and right arm.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it seemed like you did have a soulmate and they had a terrifyingly strong quirk that they had never used before.

Over time, the pain dulled out into the ghost sensations that everyone insisted you would get, much to your relief. It started to feel like a gentle tingling across your entire body, soothing even.

You discovered who your soulmate was in your early thirties when you were saved by the number one hero himself. He repeatedly activated and deactivated his quirk in your presence and you were sure.

On impulse, you had asked him why he had never used his quirk for the first 14 years of his life.

“Were you originally quirkless?”

The color drained from his face.

#this was a little bit all over the place #but im still trying to get over the writers block for pp #so enjoy?#todoroki shouto #amajiki tamaki #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #headcanons #asks #anon #mine

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arse-blathanna · 6 years

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The Bones of a God - 44/50

Chapter 44: Headshot

[Ao3] [FFN] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: Once upon a time, monsters roamed the entire world, so plentiful that they needed countless numbers to fight them off. 13 years ago, that changed. Grimm died off suddenly and stopped proliferating. Now the few Creatures of Grimm that are left are too large and powerful to be taken down in "the old ways."

That doesn't make them any less of a threat.

The real problem comes when people decide it's for the best that they start picking sides in a war starting anew.

Word Count: 4,775

Chapter Summary: RWBY, JNPR, Oobleck, and others face off against the giant grimm.

Author's Notes: IRL stuff happened and I haven't been able to get an update in for a while. Sorry for the wait, I know it was a long one. I'm hoping to have this fic finished posting by the end of 2018.Thank you all for reading!

One of the first and most quickly understood things about their current predicament was that should things go wrong, there would be no chance for any of them to run

With the behemoth of a monster coming, and with the length of its legs, the relative distance between them and the monster wasn't all that much. How much time they had before it was on top of them, Ruby couldn’t guess. The eight man team had all but scattered to the trees, many of them hoping to try and find a good place to sit and wait, while Oobleck stood by the spawning pool, steady and resolute.

[Read it on Ao3] [Read it on FFN]

In Ruby’s case, she sat up in one of the tallest trees that she'd been able to. She wasn't the only one there, because Weiss had decided to perch just below where she had. Ruby had the higher ground, which was better because she could snipe with Crescent Rose, but having Weiss close was a comfort of sorts in itself.

For several minutes, she and Weiss had decided to trade strategies in the hopes of finding the perfect way to combat the grimm. Ruby wished that they could have gotten those ideas to the others quickly, but it didn’t feel like they had the time to do so.

No matter what, the grimm was coming. Leaving their posts was dangerous.

It was getting closer and closer. Ruby could hear the grimm crashing through the trees, stomp after stomp, after heavy stomp.

As it approached, there were the sounds of gunshots and shouting getting closer and closer which came along with the sounds of the grimm’s footfalls. They were the sounds of hunters, barking orders at each other and trying to coordinate whatever attacks they could in the hopes of slowing the beast down before it could do too much damage.

There were three hunters that Ruby could see, leaving streaks of color behind them as they moved and struck. Their voices were mostly familiar.

The first two voices Ruby recognized as being her father and Qrow's. Her heart beat harder and harder and harder as they got closer because her family was out there, and they were in trouble.

The third voice was a woman's, too volatile and vicious. Wholly unfamiliar.

"Students!" Oobleck shouted, lowering himself down into position to move. "When it begins to breach the clearing, open fire!"

The grimm's face was right there, hundreds of feet in the air and staring them down. Ruby looked up at it with her eyes wide open.

In truth, Ruby had never realized just how terrifying that specific grimm was since she’d been viewing it almost exclusively from a distance. Its fur was black and hung off of its frame like tattered carpet, shaggy and dark, swaying and hanging like seaweed. The eyes, bright red with burning gold pupils, bone-white teeth raising from its mouth and its snout protruding in a permanent snarl.

Ruby swallowed hard and braced herself among the treetops that she had decided to make herself at home in. She had Crescent Rose, and she had Weiss, and their friends were still there, preparing the same way that the two of them were.

Ruby could trust Weiss, but she couldn’t trust that she could only rely on Weiss in such a large battle.

"Weiss-" Ruby whispered to her partner. "Set up a glyph. I have an idea."

Weiss looked up at her, looking just as exhausted and unsure as Ruby felt. She nodded and held out her sword, still keeping herself well grounded up in the treetops. "Where do you want it?"

"In front of my rifle." Ruby said, blinking up at Weiss. "If you can get it so that when I fire the Dust will-"

"Got it." Weiss replied, her brow furrowing down into a deathly serious expression. It took only a single swing of her sword. Sure enough the glyph appeared there in front of Ruby's gun, spinning slowly in soft white auric light. Ruby swallowed and put her finger on the trigger. All that she needed was for the attack to work. If it worked, then she had absolutely no idea what was going to come next, but it would have been something.

What came next would probably depend largely upon what their teammates did. Ruby was sure that she wasn't going to be the only one getting ready to fight immediately. In fact, when she looked over to the tree where Nora was sitting and Ren was at the ground, hand pressed to both the tree and to the ground, she saw that Nora was already prepared to fire herself.

"Are you ready?" Weiss asked, sounding just as afraid.

"Yeah." Ruby whispered back, jolting slightly at the sound of a spray of bullets that went off. "I think so."

"It's here." Oobleck shouted into the clearing behind him. "Students, you may need to hit it with everything you've got."

"Right!" Ruby shouted back before pulling the trigger and watching as a bullet went through the glyph and turned into a bolt of bright icy white and blue.

Ruby watched as her and Weiss' combined work flew through the air and struck the giant grimm's right leg. It bloomed into a formation of ice that twisted into something that almost looked like a flower. The monster let out a roar, and Ruby did what she could to stay still and prepare to do more.

"Hold it!" Ruby called down to Weiss, who just nodded, still primed for something else. She fired three more shots, all of which flew out and created more blooms of ice onto the beast's leg. At the very least it was going to be able to slow it down, not that Ruby thought that it was going to last all that long. Dust created effects didn’t always last as long as the real thing did.

A barrage of grenades with pink streams of smoke came out of the trees from where Nora was, falling into the shape of a giant heart that hit the beast in the chest. It roared and staggered back for a moment, and Ruby felt her heart beating harder and harder in her chest.

For the first time, the realization of just how dangerous this was going to end up being. If they made the beast fall in the wrong direction, then it was too likely that someone was going to get hurt- if it went really wrong, then it would fall in the direction of Vale itself.

"Nora!" Jaune shouted, leaping down from a tree and landing on the ground below it before sprinting to Ren's side. He reached out and placed a hand on Ren's shoulder and looked up into the tree. "Get ready to do that again!"

"Got it!" Nora shouted back, clearly already in the process of reloading.

Oobleck held his head up high like he was looking out for someone. Out in the distance, Ruby saw a flash of gold, small and strong. It struck into the beast before launching back out, and she could see a streak of red- Qrow's cape flying through the air and trying to strike into the monster's shoulder.

There was a streak of red that Ruby couldn't identify that disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

"What do we do?" Ruby shouted down to Oobleck, since she wasn't sure that what they were doing was working that well.

"It is hard to say." Oobleck said, swinging his weapon to send a torrent of fire towards the grimm. Weiss reacted, holding her head up high and her eyes widening.

She looked back over her shoulder at Ruby. "Can you keep doing what you're doing?"

"Not without you!" Ruby cried, gripping on tight to Crescent Rose. Weiss sighed and nodded for Ruby to come down with her before leaping down and sprinting towards Oobleck. Ruby activated her semblance and flew after.

Out of the trees came Blake and Yang as well, but the two of them didn't seem to be too sure about what they could actually do.

"I have an idea." Weiss said, her voice and her expression both deadly serious. "You have a flamethrower."

"I do." Oobleck replied, raising an eyebrow. "It would do to tell everyone else what your idea is though, Miss Schnee."

Weiss held her sword out and turned the revolving chamber until there was a cartridge of light green Dust selected. "I have Wind Dust." Weiss said, seriously. "If you can fire through my glyph-"

"What about the rest of us?" Yang asked, already nervous but not quite angry just yet. "Because I can't do anything without getting close.”

"You would not be the only one with that problem, Miss Xiao Long." Doctor Oobleck said almost too calmly, like that would be able to fix all of their problems. "You may not be well suited for such high-flying feats as are happening. However, it may be beneficial to wait."

"Wait." Yang repeated, and Ruby felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. It only took a moment before Yang was looking over at Weiss directly, clearly interested in seeing what she could do. "Do you think that you could try and launch me in?"

Weiss blinked, like she wasn’t sure that she actually had all that much to offer to the battle. Almost like she had a limited arsenal of Dust and only so many chances to use each type before she ran out. Or perhaps she was worried about how volatile Dust could be. Either way, Ruby didn’t know what was going on in her partner’s head.

"I have an idea." Ruby said, smirking. "What if we-" She turned to look back at the grimm that looming there far too close to them. "What if we do the fire first and then try to launch the rest of us in?"

Blake shrugged, and she looked down at her weapon. All at once, Ruby watched her expression change and her eyes widen in understanding. "If you can get me in there, I think that I might be able to cling on."

"You're sure?" Yang asked, locking her eyes with Blake's now. "That sounds pretty risky."

"It gets us in there, doesn't it?"

Ruby hesitated and looked over at Weiss, hopeful that Weiss would say something to her that would actually be useful to the team. There was a moment worth of hesitation before Weiss spoke up, giving what she can.

"You guys don't realize-" She started, sounding unsure of herself. "I can't use my semblance as much as you might think. I can try and get the rest of you in, but-"

"But if you do then we might not have as much to work with later?" Yang asked, her brow furrowing. "What do you think your limit would be?"

Weiss took a deep breath, looking back down at Myrtenaster. "I can maintain a few more glyphs to fire through, and maybe a few launching pads. But beyond that I'm not so sure. I want to be able to catch you if I need to."

"We'll figure it out." Ruby said, forcing on a smile and standing up tall. "I think that we should do your plan first though."

Weiss nodded before looking back to Oobleck. The professor fell into a combat stance, his weapon at his side and prepared to be used. "I would recommend that you prepare for what is to come, MIss Schnee."

"Right." Weiss said, keeping her voice steady. The glyph appeared, turning slowly and she looked back over at Oobleck. "I'm ready."

"Miss Rose-" Oobleck said. "I think that it may be beneficial for you to join into this as well."

"Got it." Ruby slipped into the space beside Weiss and let Crescent Rose rest there, blade resting against the ground so that she can use it to maintain balance. She waited quietly for a sign that it was time to move, and when Oobleck sent the first ball of flames through the glyph, which launched forward much faster than Ruby had been expecting.

Maybe if she was smart about this-

When Oobleck acted again, Ruby fired, and she watched as the bullet met with flame before launching forward much faster than anything else that had been able to. Weiss stood there, solid and strong.

"Blake!" Yang shouted off to the side. "C'mon, let's go!"

The two of them began to sprint at the grimm, making sure to put some space between them and the many projectiles that were heading towards the Grimm for their own sakes.

Ruby made sure to take care to not end up shooting her teammates, and looked over at Weiss. "We should join them."

"Are you sure?" Weiss asked, sounding more than just a little bit unsure of that plan. "Because that sounds like it could seriously backfire on us."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as JNPR fell into formation, moving as a team with Pyrrha and Ren taking the lead. That was what they needed to do, and that was something that Ruby definitely believed. "They're going to need us."

"But what about-"

"You two should go and fight alongside your teammates." Oobleck said, with eerie calm. "I would not blame you."

Weiss nodded and looked over at Ruby, and that was all that they needed before they were up there at the front of the charge, not far behind Yang and Blake. Even with them running towards the fight, Ruby could hear Blake and Yang shouting strategies to each other, both looking for possibilities for what they were meant to do.

They caught up.

"Yang!" Ruby called to her sister, who just let their eyes lock. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Sure am!" Yang answered, sounding too confident and too ready. Not far off in the distance was one of the feet of the grimm. All that they had to do was get there, and then after that-

Ruby was sure that they might be able to at least manage to get something done. That didn't seem like it would have been too ambitious.

Before they could get any closer, a blur of gold crashed down in front of them, its owner landing on his feet with gritted teeth and looking a little bit banged up. He stood up tall and looked back at the rest of them over his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?"

"We're here to fight, dad." Yang responded, her eyes sparking up in bright red for a moment. "And we can't really do that unless you let us."

He seemed to hesitate a moment, looking back to the beast. Ruby had to wonder just how long he'd been facing off against the grimm himself, and she had to wonder even more whether or not she wanted to know the answer to that question. But Ruby watched him take in a deep breath.

"Alright." He muttered. "But you four better try and keep safe."

"That's the plan." Ruby smiled up at her father, hopeful that she would see some sign that he was relaxing, but instead saw nothing. He stood there more stony faced than she had ever seen him. Taiyang shook his head and braced himself against the ground, readying for a mighty leap.

"You four have to promise me one thing-" Taiyang grumbled, his head tilted down in something close to anger. "If someone tells you to get out of the way, you are going to do it. No ifs or buts about it, got it?"

"Got it." Yang muttered, and Ruby watched her take a step forward and drop into a fighting stance, similar to their fathers, hands held up in front of her and ready for a fistfight, square and low to the ground.

"That's all I can hope for." Tai muttered before throwing himself into the air, and Yang launched herself not far after him, using Ember Celica to propel herself forward, faster, and faster.

"Blake-" Ruby looked over at her teammate, an idea already going through her head. "Do you think that you could get all three of us up there?"

Blake blinked and her brow furrowed, deep in concentration. "You two will have to help me."

Weiss smiled softly. "I think we can do that."

Ruby looked down at the ground under her feet. She thought that she could do something to be useful, at the very least she could believe in her semblance. It would probably require for her to put a lot of energy into one burst of speed, but she could manage it.

Sure enough, a glyph appeared underneath the two of them, and Weiss stood back away from it.

“Weiss?” Ruby asked, looking back at her teammate.

Weiss took a breath. “I don’t know how much use I can be up close like this.”

“You should come with us anyways.” Blake suggested, changing the form on her weapon. She weighed it in her hands before locking eyes with Weiss. “But there might be a better way to do this.”

“Like?”

Ruby’s eyes widened when she got the idea.

“Do you guys think we can pull off a slingshot?’

“A slingshot?” Weiss responded, her brow furrowing. “You can’t be serious.”

“It could work!”

"It would be easier with a fourth person here." Blake stated with a sigh, testing the strength of her ribbon. "But I think Ruby might be onto something."

"And us?"

"We can figure it out."

Ruby looked between the two of them and watched as Weiss relented. She flicked her fingers, and the glyph moved so that it was lying vertically as opposed to horizontally.

Blake passed the ribbon off to her, and Ruby wrapped it around her waist, but not all the way. Blake took a breath and walked forward, as far as she could manage while putting the space between the two of them.

Weiss thought and Ruby saw a second glyph appear on the ribbon, tugging it away from her while still being behind her back. It was pulled taut, and with that, Ruby knew that it was going to be time. Blake and Weiss were going to be able to get involved for themselves, but for the moment, this was going to be about her.

In one motion, Ruby swang her weapon behind her. She could use the recoil to help push her along, that was all that needed to happen. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Weiss answered, and Ruby felt herself get pulled back against the glyph, further and further back as the ribbon pulled tighter and tighter. When she saw Blake beginning to slide against the ground just slightly, that was when she was going to be able to do this.

"I am."

"Alright." Weiss breathed.

"Now!"

The glyph released, and Ruby realized for the first time just how much she had thrown herself into in that one motion. She hadn't thought about just how strong Weiss' Dust manipulation could actually be, and so when she was up in the air, Ruby threw herself into her semblance and felt the whirl of rose petals beginning to fly and cyclone around her as she moved towards the grimm.

In the air, Ruby flew higher, higher, higher.

She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest, and the sound of her own blood was rushing in her ears.

For just a moment, Ruby could have sworn that she'd locked eyes with the grimm, and she had thought that she had seen something that was not truly there. Something terrifying and unimaginable.

It was a feeling that didn’t last. Just as soon as it had been there it was gone, but it left Ruby with a strange throbbing feeling behind her eyes that she didn’t know she was going to be able to ignore that easily. Not when she was meant to be in combat. She fired Crescent Rose twice to change her direction and flew towards the grimm’s shoulder.

When Ruby landed there, she wasn’t surprised at all to find that it felt unsteady, as large and wide as the space was. She ended up stabbing the sharpened tip of Crescent Rose into it so that she could at least hold onto herself there. It was something that could at least stop her from falling.

Whatever her teammates were doing down below, Ruby didn’t know.

At the very least, she had a vantage point that she could use. It was a little bit higher up than she had realized, but it wasn’t as though Ruby couldn’t deal with it. Getting down was going to be a problem soon, but not for now.

A bird flew by followed quickly by a second one, both flying off in different directions.

Ruby watched for a second before thinking that she needed to come up with some sort of plan now that she was so high up in the air. She could try to hit it with bullets, since that was about the only thing she could really risk without running the possibility that she would fall and-

If she fell, Ruby couldn't be sure that her aura would be able to hold up through all of it.

As carefully as Ruby possibly could, she lowered herself down until she had three points of contact with the grimm's shoulder. The fur underneath her was a little bit looser than Ruby had thought, and slick almost like algae had formed there. Like the grimm had been wandering for eternities.

Even though Ruby knew that wasn't the case, it still seemed as such.

"Ruby!" Her uncle's voice broke through the buzzing in her head. "What do you think you're-"

"Fighting!" Ruby replied, angling herself and Crescent Rose. She aimed at the grimm's eye, wide and red and angry as it was. She didn't know that this was something that she would actually be able to pull off, but-

Ruby pulled the trigger, and felt the entire grimm's body lurch below her. She didn't know what that had come from, but on the other side, she could see Qrow resting on the Grimm's left shoulder. He was trying to catch his breath, but at least seemed to have the same idea as she did about what they were doing.

"That isn't going to do anything!" Qrow shouted to her, maintaining his balance with a bit more ease before shooting a torrent of shotgun shells at the Grimm's face. "All you're doing is annoying it!"

"Then what can I do?" Ruby shouted back. Qrow shook his head before launching himself up into the air so that he landed on the Grimm's head. He grabbed onto its fur with one hand before flinging himself over so that he was next to Ruby.

Qrow was a lot more beaten up than Ruby had thought.

"You need to keep a cool head." Qrow instructed through gritted teeth. "You get too risky up here, you hurt everyone else down there."

From where they were, everyone else and everything else looked like nothing more than slight blurs of color. They were too small, and too fragile. Ruby felt her eyes go wide at the realization because somehow she hadn't thought about that so much once she'd gotten up there. "I understand."

"You're better off down there with them." Qrow grunted, looking up to the skies again, his eyes tracking something. "But since you're already up here we might as well use it."

"So we should-"

"Try and land a hit in the eye, and work your way down. I know you can use recoil to move, so do that."

Ruby nodded and allowed herself to lift up Crescent Rose so that she could actually move. If she was going to have to move, then it was better that she didn't say grounded like she was. "You're sure this will work?"

"Sure am, kid."

Ruby dug her heels into the loose fur of the grimm and launched herself upwards, letting her semblance carry her higher and faster than she would have gone otherwise. Ruby aimed herself at the grimm's face, holding Crescent Rose behind her and pulling the trigger that would be enough to start the transformation sequence between the regular scythe and a war scythe.

With the blade straightened, Ruby knew that the weapon was going to be much more unwieldy, but it would be better for stabbing.

Ruby brought herself in dangerously close to the monster's face and aimed at the grimm, giving herself one final push to launch into it's right eye, stabbing into it.

Around her weapon, it began to smoke and the grimm let out a loud roar that was close to deafening.

She didn't have time. The grimm's mouth was wide and open, and the danger was clear. Ruby fired a gunshot and let the recoil carry her, changing the weapon back into a normal scythe was she fell down, down down, towards the ground.

As Ruby got closer and closer to the ground, she began to use Crescent Rose to control her decent before using her semblance to get her down to the ground in a flurry of red petals.

Where she landed, Ruby couldn’t catch sight of her teammates. Blake, Weiss, and Yang had to be somewhere-

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sounds of the various members of team JNPR shouting. Ruby looked to the grimm and sprinted to them because if she didn’t know where her teammates were, going out rogue to try and find them would probably only cause trouble.

Ruby skidded to a stop beside Jaune.

“Ruby!” He shouted, sounding a little bit panicked. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah.” She stood a little bit shakily, wishing that she knew where everyone else was for the moment. “Where are my teammates?”

“They’re on the other side.” Jaune explained, blinking. “Going after the legs.”

“Got it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby caught the sight of Pyrrha and Nora setting up for something big. Ren was with them, placing his hands on the two of them. Whatever he was saying, he was managing to keep his voice down.

“C’mon.” Jaune smiled at her and nodded towards his teammates. “We could probably use you.”

Ruby nodded and trotted after Jaune until she met with the others.

Pyrrha looked over at her and smiled. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed, feeling rather awkward. “What are you doing?”

“Setting up for a big hit.” Nora explained, grinning too wide.

“You should get involved.” Pyrrha said, looking over at Nora. “I think that between the two of you-”

“Got it!” Ruby fell into place beside Nora and smiled when Ren gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder the same way that he had everyone else. She felt the calm that rushed over her, and looked up at the grimm. There was still smoke rushing out of its eye, from the damage that she had done.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't going to be enough.

"You two should work together." Jaune said, looking from Nora to Ruby. "If you can get you two there, then you'll get the big hit on the leg, and Pyrrha will reel you back in."

Pyrrha nodded, her eyes widening for a second as she threw her shield up into the air, trying to knock away a bit of rubble that had been going their way. When it came back she positioned herself at their front, with Jaune coming up on her side to do the same.

"You two need to hold onto your weapons tight." Pyrrha said, her voice eerily calm. "When you're back, we'll make more plans, but for now this is the best idea we have."

"What about everyone else?" Ruby asked, remembering what her uncle had just told her. "Because-"

"It shouldn't be enough to make it go down." Nora said. "I mean, I'm not charged up all the way, and you seem like you've done a lot too."

"Nora is right." Pyrrha said calmly. "But for now we all need to keep our heads together, and we need to be ready to do this."

"Got it."

Ruby dug her heels into the ground, and she and Nora wrapped their arms around each other. She just needed to get them moving. Nora seemed ready to help, if the way that she was angling Magnhild was any indication. With one strong push, Ruby launched the two of them into the air and held onto Nora as hard as she could.

They just needed to get to the kneecap. That was all that they needed.

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #ruby rose #the bones of a god #oops my hand slipped #mantiswrites

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