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dearyallfrommatt · 4 years

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My late father loved Krystal burgers. Even after his diabetes blossomed into something his battered old body could barely control, if he came near a town that had a Krystal, he’d make Momma drive him by it. When my brother got married in Athens, GA, and a mix-up of Daddy’s meds put him in a serious fog, he had enough presence of mind to have us make a run to the one on Prince Avenue.

Long story short, the Krystal burger chain is filing for bankruptcy. Founded in 1932 and famous for those little hamburgers like you’d get at White Castle up North, the company has a hearing in the North District Court of Georgia Wednesday, citing debts up to $100 million dollars. Regardless how things turn out, some of the 320 restaurants in nine different states will remain open thanks to franchising, but that still makes life a little worrisome for the 5,000-plus people who work for the company now, mostly at part-time wages, of course.

The last time Krystal went bankrupt was 1997 and that was due to millions of dollars of unpaid overtime owed to employees. The company was bought by a private equity firm, Port Royal Holdings, for $145 million dollars. As an aside, the original Port Royale was a famous pirate haven back during what’s called The Golden Age of Piracy, roughly 1620-1720, before becoming a center for “legitimate” shipping and trade in the Caribbean, but I’m sure that’s a coincidence.

Since 1997, Krystal has bounced from private equity firm to private equity firm and has had eight different CEO’s. The last one, Paul Macaluso, left after the company eliminated franchises and management positions, not to mention slashing basic staff, in an effort to not actually turn a buck but the stave off their mounting creditors. The company declared bankruptcy the day their last loan deal with a creditor ran out. At the same time, the company’s dealing with an investigation into their payment practices and a “security breach”.

I doubt this will mean we’ll see the end of Krystal, but maybe. What’s most likely is that yet another private equity firm full of people who care nothing about anything beyond making more and more profit and damn the torpedoes, will swing in to rescue it, finding new and better ways to screw over workers. Because they can never make enough money.

I don’t understand rich people, I really don’t. People who can’t just enjoy their wealth and good fortune, I mean, the ones that have to have more and more lucre. Wrestling legend Jim Cornette - stay with me here - once said the main thing he could not understand about former boss and WWE CEO Vince McMahaon is why he couldn’t just enjoy his billions. He had to have more and, not only that, fuck over other people as much as possible while doing it.

For your edification, after the end of the Monday Night Wars in 1999, the only professional wrestling company that made money was the WWF. McMahaon - who bought the company from his father Vince Sr. in the late ‘70s for one dollar - was literally worth billions. On top of that, it didn’t look like the they’d ever stop making money bringing the rabid fan base the best in sweaty men in small pants pretending to fight.

And then Vince got greedy. First they tried to bring the world two billion-dollar flops in the XFL and a restaurant in Manhattan. I really don’t know from the restaurant except that it crashed and burned, but being a fan of football, I watched the XFL saga with fascinated horror. Going against the NFL is a rum’s game - ask the USFL and President Trump - but the XFL was set up to actually take down - or pretend to, keeping with the wrestling theme - the pro football juggernaut.

The lads from at Old School Wrestling can sum it up better and more entertaining than I could. After all was said and done, the league lost $138 million dollars with their deal with NBC, it cost Vince himself $69 million, and by the time the thing washed out, Vince was no longer a billionaire. In short order, the wrestling boom ate itself and money that could’ve been spent to give their employees some sort of health insurance security went to creditors. Even in the football league, the highest paid athlete made five grand a week and, of course, no health insurance for players.

Now, I’m not ragging on the WWE or even professional wrestling. I firmly believe that one of America’s greatest contribution to world culture is professional wrestling - no, seriously - and a full understanding of the United States’ development and evolution, at least in the 20th century. But this is a fine example of how greed destroys whatever it touches. Call it capitalism’s inevitable outcome or whatever you want to call it, but this is now seen as How Things Are Supposed to Be.

The last decade saw a plethora of long-running businesses go flat broke and have to shutter their doors. Financial experts blamed the death of Toys ‘R’ Us on Millennials not having kids and the spread of Amazon, for example, but the fact is the private equity companies - including Mitt Romney’s Ban Capital - cut and sliced everything they could in the run for more profits and less overhead. ‘Cause that’s all that matters.

I used to do an internet streaming radio show with a libertarian who once tried to enlighten to me the evil of taxation in maybe the dumbest way possible. A friend of his, he said, worked at a private equity firm, putting in 80 hours a week, and because of taxation, she was only able to bring home $180 thousand out of the $200 thousand she “earned” each year. Needless to say, that didn’t cut it.

But again, this is how the world is Supposed To Work. Providing a good consumers either need or really enjoy and in some way makes their lives a little better, that doesn’t even pretend to matter anymore. Taking care of your employees, paying them enough to live on and keep themselves hale-&-hearty because workers that aren’t living in terror of getting sick or a raise in rent are better workers, that’s not profitable.

Well, it is profitable and a smaller, self-contained businesses can totally do that, but the American Way is to gobble up as much as possible for some reason. Instead of enjoying your wealth and the sense of stability never having to worry about which bill you’re going to have to skip this month or if your landlord is going to increase your went for whatever the hell reason, our society encourages the very richest to accumulate and horde as much wealth as possible. If you can step on someone’s face in the process, even better.

And if you fail, no big worry. In 2008, Delta Airlines fired their CEO, Richard Anderson, after four months because the company lost over $70 million. Anderson nevertheless walked away with a severance package that included over $11 million dollars plus a corner office on Peachtree Street in Atlanta. More recently, due to on-going scandals involving their 737′s, Boeing booted their CEO Dennis Muilenberg after ballooning losses and deadly crashes of two of their planes. They did punish him by denying his full severance package, though. Luckily, he still walks away with $60 million in stock options and pension benefits.

So, what is the answer, I hear you say. Hell, I don’t know. These practices are an ongoing problem, but the acceptance of such behavior by the hoi palloi is even worse. We see this as natural and good, the American way. We elected a president who was born rich and was a big mover-&-shaker in a field his father already plowed, and companies under his control went bankrupt at least six times. Had he spent the last 50 years funding art galleries and weaving baskets, just letting the interest do it’s work, he’d arguably be richer than he is now.

Is socialism the answer? Can capitalism be saved? Do we need to look for an entirely different paradigm when it comes to economic survival? Again, I don’t pretend to have any answers. Indeed, my whole approach to anarchistic theory isn’t searching for a specific end result way to “make things work” so much as using the tools I can live with to get by as best I can while maybe making the world a better place along the way. But since no one is ever really punished or suffers from such actions that have proven to be, at best, a crap game, we’ll see more of this.

More profit, that’s all that matters.

#krystal #capitalism #anarchism #WWE #xfl #Delta Airlines #Boeing #greed in America

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galwednesday · 6 years

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Happy Birthday, @chibisquirt! For birthday fic, here’s the first contiguous chunk of the Steve/Tony tech support identity porn AU inspired by the prompt you reblogged. (Tony isn’t Iron Man or an Avenger in this one, but he does consult with SHIELD.) It hasn’t been edited fully, but does have a bonus lolcat, so hopefully that evens out:

“Tony’s Tech Emporium, Tony speaking, how may I direct your call?”

There was a long silence before a male voice responded. “I was told to call this number for help with the computer SHIELD gave me.”

In Tony’s defense, he was bored.

(continues below the cut)

Fury had called him into SHIELD to discuss quinjet engine improvements (specifically, Fury had threatened to let SHIELD engineers make modifications to Tony and Rhodey’s engine design, and Tony had descended wrathfully onto SHIELD HQ). Tony had budgeted half an hour, max, to explaining why that would be a terrible idea likely to result in catastrophic explosions, so he hadn’t planned on staying long.

Tony’s plans changed after JARVIS cracked SHIELD’s server encryption protocols within five minutes of Tony connecting to SHIELD’s wifi. It was almost cute how SHIELD thought 128-bit encryption was enough to keep him out.

He’d been tempted not to mention the breach in order to have a perpetual back door into SHIELD’s systems, but someone else was bound to discover the exploit eventually, and some of the information on SHIELD servers was about active-duty agents and their assignments, which could lead to a wave of executions if it got into the hands of someone less public-spirited than Tony was. (Plus he’d already had JARVIS save copies of some of the more interesting files for Tony to poke through later. He was only human, and resisting temptation wasn’t his specialty.)

As soon as Tony told Fury about the breach, the morning had turned into an impromptu security audit. It had been fun to watch Fury storm into the IT staff room and bellow at the poor bastards who were working that day. Tony had spent a very entertaining hour stampeding through SHIELD firewalls while SHIELD techs scrambled to lock him out again, before the alarms had gone off.

Fury had rapidly lost all Tony’s newly acquired goodwill by flatly refusing to let Tony help with whatever top-secret crisis was currently looming. “I have a ten-point shit-show classification system,” Fury had said, while looming over Tony as though sheer bulk could lend him authority. “It goes from one to ten. At a level ten, I’ll shake the devil’s hand and put him to work. This threat? This threat is a four. I’ll call you in at a five.”

And then he had swept out of the door with his dramatic coat billowing behind him, all the IT staff bobbing along like ducklings in his wake. Tony had been left behind with nothing more interesting to do than patch SHIELD’s firewalls, which only took him twenty minutes.

So Tony was bored. Bored and unsupervised, no less, and clearly Fury should have known better. When the phone on one of the SHIELD guy’s desks rang, Tony thought about it for about 5/7ths of a second before picking up the call.

“I can certainly help you with that,” Tony said, propping his feet up on the desk. Whoever normally used this workstation had left a game of Galaga running. Maybe later Tony could try to beat his high score. “What do you need?”

“I need to find the email address of someone I work with.”

“Easy peasey, you can look them up in your address book.”

“Right,” the man said, with a level of grim determination that Tony didn’t usually associate with minor tech support issues. “How do I do that?”

“First, just open your email.”

The man sighed a little, almost too quiet to hear. “And how do I do that?”

“You can double-click the desktop icon or find it in the Start menu.”

“The desktop icon,” the man repeated slowly.

Tony was starting to wonder if this guy had grown up Amish and signed up with SHIELD one week into his rumspringa. There had to be some explanation for how a young-sounding guy with a solidly American accent could have escaped adolescence without encountering computers before.

Whatever the reason was, it would be a dick move to interrogate him about it. Tony still remembered the first time Howard had sneered at him for not knowing the difference between direct and alternating current, and nevermind that Tony had been four at the time. Normally Tony didn’t have the patience to hand-holding, but this wasn’t some guy cornering Tony at a party and demanding that Tony upgrade his phone, this was someone who was calling the tech support line for help just like he was supposed to.

Plus it was actually a challenge to figure out how to explain basic computer concepts like he was talking to an alien unfamiliar with human technology. (Wait. Could this guy be Thor? No, Thor’s accent was totally different. Focus, Tony.)

“Okay, so, the main thing to understand about computers is that they’re like dogs. Really enthusiastic, but kind of dumb.” Tony leaned back in the swivel chair, settling in for a long chat. “They don’t speak English, they take all of your commands literally, and they try their best, but they don’t always understand what you want them to do. You with me so far?”

“I’m following.” Was it Tony’s imagination, or did the guy sound a little amused?

“Right, so. The whole point of computers is that you tell them to do stuff and they do it, but because of the whole not-speaking-English thing, you can’t just shout at them until they do what you want. Yet.” Tony was working on that, but voice recognition that took into account the full range of English speakers’ accents and dialects was an order of magnitude harder than just teaching his bots to recognize his commands, so Tony’s voice-to-text algorithms weren’t quite there. Give him four more months. “One of the ways computers let you know what stuff they can do is by displaying little pictures on the screen, and when you tap on the picture depicting what you want the computer to do, the computer runs off and does that task. Those pictures are called icons, like those little paintings, you know those?”

“Yeah,” the guy said, abruptly a lot more relaxed. “Small paintings of religious figures, usually associated with the Eastern Orthodox church. Those, I know.”

And wasn’t that a fascinating contrast, and the religious upbringing theory was getting stronger by the minute. “Right, so when you look at your tablet you see rows of icons laid out on the background, which is called the desktop. Just pretend you’re looking down at a desk with a bunch of tiny paintings on top of it, and each painting represents an action. That’s what your tablet is trying to show you. It’s like a dog waiting for you to pick which toy you’re going to throw so it can go chase it.”

“Got it. So when I pick an icon, the computer tries to do whatever the icon shows?”

“Exactly.”

“So the icon with a picture of an envelope is the mail? Email,” the man corrected himself.

“That’s right.”

The man made a sound of satisfaction. Tony could hear a faint ding in the background as the program opened.

“Is this your first time using email?”

“Yeah.” The man’s voice was determined again. “A guy I work with bet me a dollar I couldn’t find out his email address, and I mean to prove him wrong.”

“I can definitely help you with that.” Even if the guy wasn’t listed in the email directory, there wasn’t a personnel file in SHIELD Tony couldn’t dig up contact information for. “What are you going to send him?”

“I was thinking a blue picture.”

Tony’s fingers froze. So much for Steve being Amish. Maybe he’d been raised by a cult? A luddite, sex-positive cult? “A blue picture? You’re going to send your coworker porn?”

“Well, maybe something just a little racy. I want to catch him off-guard. He acts like I’m a real fuddy-duddy.” He sounded bemused, like he couldn’t understand how he got that reputation. This from a man who said fuddy-duddy without a trace of irony.

“He thinks you’re old-fashioned, huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, if you work with this guy, I can’t recommend sending him porn. That’s bound to be against HR policy. But if you just want to prove him wrong, I think I have a better idea. What’s your name?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Steve.”

“I’m Tony.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Now Steve definitely sounded amused. “Tony’s Tech Emporium.”

“That’s right. So, Steve,” Tony said cheerfully. “Have you ever heard of trolling?”

It didn’t take long to write a virus--just a little one, Tony was being a model of restraint--and send it to the computer of one Clint Barton, who was apparently a SHIELD field agent. Tony entered the final closing tag and leaned back in his chair, angling his body towards the speakerphone.

“Okay, go,” Tony said.

“Hitting send.”

“Perfect.” With a flourish, Tony sent off the virus. It would take effect instantly, flipping Clint Barton’s desktop image from whatever it had been before to an image selected by Steve, after some consultation with Tony. “What did your email text say?”

“‘Dear Clint,’” Steve read, with radio play flair. “‘Thank you for motivating me to learn more about computers. I think I’m really getting the hang of them. Please enjoy your new desktop. Your friend, Steve.’ You’re sure the picture will switch over?”

“Positive. And he’s not going to have an easy time setting it back.” Tony had, as a little parting touch, removed the user’s ability to reset the desktop image. Barton could either requisition a clean computer from SHIELD IT, or learn to love cats who couldn’t spell. “He’ll think twice about doubting your technology chops after this.”

“Too bad,” Steve said, deadpan. “I was looking forward to more where that dollar came from.”

“What are you going to say when he asks how you did it?”

“I’ll tell him I know a guy.”

Tony smiled at the phone. This had been fun, more fun than he’d had in--well, maybe it was better not to think about that. “Yeah, you do. Tell you what,” he added, “I’m going to give you my direct line, okay? You have any more technology questions, you can call me instead of the general help line and I’ll get you set up.”

“Are you sure?” Steve said doubtfully. “I don’t keep a regular schedule. I might be calling at odd hours.”

“No biggie, my schedule’s weird, too. If I don’t answer and it’s an emergency, you can always call the main help line.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Now he sounded shy. It was adorable. Steve was rapidly becoming Tony’s very favorite ex-luddite cultist.

“Not at all, Stevie Wonder. Call anytime.”

#Stony #ficlet #fic in progress #a few of these details are taken directly from my experiences in IT #including the metaphor about computers as well-intentioned but kind of dumb dogs #which sometimes flips people's attitudes from ''THE COMPUTER IS FIGHTING ME AND I HATE IT''#to ''the computer is trying its best. bless its little microchip heart.''#ficlets and headcanons

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avengerofyourheart · 7 years

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You are My Heaven: Epilogue (Steve Rogers fic)

Characters: reader, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon Carter, Maria Hill(mentioned), OFC Lily, OMC Liam.

Summary: Falling for a good man, who happened to be her training partner, was unavoidable. How much time and distance does it take to heal a broken heart? (Mentions events from CACW, including a direct quote)

Warnings: bit of fluff, some angst. Mention of heartbreak.

Word Count: 3.3k

Song Inspiration: A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope

Tags are at the bottom

A/N: Here we have it! The wrap up for this unexpected multi-part fic. It’s been healing for me to write this and I’m grateful for the kind words and shared stories I’ve received. I appreciate every single message. Also, I did write The Truth Behind You are My Heaven, which is my personal story if you’re interested. Any feedback is appreciated. I love you all!!

<<<Part Two Epilogue(end)

Masterlist

______________________________________________________

One Year Later

Stepping into your London flat, you pulled the key from the lock and placed your purse on the side table. You kicked off your high heels and spread your toes, feeling relief at last after a long day. Carrying your shoes in one hand and work bag in the other, you walked down the hall to your bedroom and changed into comfortable lounge clothes. Venturing into the bathroom to toss your clothes in the hamper, you discovering a pair of men’s boxers on the floor. Letting out an amused sigh, you simply picked them up and walked the two feet to the hamper before tossing them in.

You had the flat to yourself tonight, which was unusual, so you decided to unwind with a glass of wine and catch up on tv shows you had recorded but never found the time to watch. As it grew later, you found yourself yawning and giving into the temptation of your soft, comfy bed. You rinsed out your glass and turned out all the lights except your bedside lamp. Plugging in your phone, the screen illuminated a new email notification from work, which wasn’t unusual. Timezones meant nothing in your line of work so you opened it just in case, planning on dealing with whatever it was in the morning.

Reading the subject line, your stomach dropped.

The body of the email explained further and you brought a hand up to your mouth, taking in the news. You sat down on your bed, feeling the shock set in. In truth, you had known for quite some time that this day would come but…not so soon. Professionalism taking over, you inhaled a deep breath before replying to the email and drafting a statement to be sent out in the morning. You contacted your colleagues and all others who had security clearance. Pressing send on the last email, you set your phone aside before letting your head fall into your hands.

Your next thought surprised you: He should know. Straightening your spine, you considered the prospect of following that thought. Was it your place to tell him? Pushing aside your professionally-fueled need to go through proper channels, you followed your gut and pulled out your work computer. You found the proper file and clicked the name you had fixated on for much too long in the past. Highlighting his phone number, you hesitated a moment before punching it into your international mobile phone and opening a new text message.

You checked the time. It would be early evening there. What could you say? There’s no good preface for news like this. You kept it simple and typed out two lines, knowing he would understand.

She’s gone. In her sleep.

You pressed send, plugged in your phone, and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was going to be rough.

__________

After leaving New York, you thought it best to give yourself some space from Steve. Other than the entire Atlantic Ocean’s width, of course. You were given a new, international mobile phone mostly for work, but also personal use. As you considered what information and contacts you needed to transfer from your old phone, your thumb hovered over Steve’s number with a pause. It was a small thing, but at first even seeing his name while scrolling through for a different contact’s name sent a pang to your fragile heart. In the end, you decided not to keep his number.

You felt guilty after the fact and regretted recycling the old phone, but this was the 21st Century. It wasn’t as if there were no other forms of contact with him, should you need or desire it. You loosely kept in touch with most of the Avengers, but you all had lives to lead and jobs to do. Time passed and soon most of your contact with the group of superheroes was made through Maria. It was just easier that way.

London was incredible. After the initial culture shock and jet lag wore off, you started to see the wonderment and beauty of your new city. Your new job was a lot to take on at first, but as you came to know your co-workers and their strengths, it was easier to delegate the work and carry less yourself. On the rare chance that you were given an actual weekend free, you played the tourist and saw different landmarks throughout the city. You toured the Tower of London, rode on the ferris wheel-like London Eye at sunset, watched the changing of the guards outside Buckingham Palace, and sought out Abbey Road so you could see the famous crossing in person. You even scrawled your favorite Beatles lyric on the low wall outside Abbey Road Recording Studios, reading some of the other messages left by fans as well.

It was all so surreal to be living in a foreign country at first. Even though the spoken language was obviously English, there were still odd phrases and strong accents that would catch you off guard. You picked things up quickly, though, and soon you found yourself talking like a local, sans the accent, of course. Work and getting settled kept you busy for the first few weeks, but soon you started to feel a bit lonely. You knew it took time to make friends and how important it was to have a life outside of work. Initially meeting people was a challenge, though.

You tried to be friendly with your neighbors but never really clicked with any of them. The bar scene wasn’t really your thing and those sort of interactions were the last thing on your mind for a while. Any time a man approached you, your heart lurched and you held back for fear of blurting the details of your recent heartbreak.

Oddly enough, you eventually made your first friend on the Tube. You started to see some of the same people each morning on your ride to work and one day a girl you had noticed saw the book you were reading, then making a comment. That sparked a conversation and soon you looked forward to your morning meet-ups with one trying to save a seat for the other.

You two met for drinks the next week and bonded easily. Lily was gorgeous and funny with a cutting wit. She worked as a consultant for a marketing firm that consisted of mostly men. You both relished at finally having a female friend to spend time with, finding release in shared laughter and inside jokes. You complemented each other well with a lot of similarities, but enough differences to make your friendship interesting. Evenings were sometimes spent out on the town and other times you stayed in with a bottle of wine and trashy television or a high-brow foreign film, depending on your shared mood.

Lily had a long-term boyfriend so her attention was split, but she always made time for you. A few months into your friendship, she breached the subject you generally skirted around when it was mentioned.

“I need you to remain calm,” Lily spoke, grasping your hands in hers upon the pub table, immediately making you feel not calm at all. “I invited someone tonight for you to meet. A colleague of Paul’s.”

Panic flared in your veins, your eyes wide. “You what?”

“I know, I know. You said you’re not ready and if you truly don’t want to meet him, I will respect that, but he is a great guy and I think you should give him a chance. Please? For me?” Lily used her doe eyes on you, sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

Lily knew about Steve and what you had been through. It was difficult for you to even describe your situation. A break-up is easy to explain, but you never actually dated. Reducing your experience to a “crush” seemed inaccurate and demeaning. Your heart had solely belonged to him, even if he didn’t know it. It was love, even if it wasn’t shared. So if you really had to say anything about the subject of a most-recent relationship, you simply said you got your heart broken, which was absolutely true and just enough information not to elicit more questions.

His name was Liam. You resigned yourself to at least a conversation. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Upon first meeting, you noticed that he was handsome, dark hair cut short on the sides and a bit longer on top with a pair of warm chocolate brown eyes that somehow put you at ease immediately. He had olive skin, an easy smile and a strong jaw with just a hint of a 5 o’clock shadow at this time of night. He clasped your hand in his, firm but gentle, and you each took a seat.

Conversation flowed well and for the first time in a long while, you found yourself feeling relaxed around a man. After that first night, he asked for your phone number and you kept in touch. He invited you to dinner or drinks about once a week and although you knew you were holding back some, you still couldn’t deny there was a spark. Liam made it rather plain that he was interested in you romantically. You reciprocated his feelings, but confessed that it may take some time for you to fully invest in a relationship. He understood and took it slow, continuing to take you out and staying in contact through text and the occasional call.

One day at work, an email came through about an Avengers mission in Europe. You opened it and as you began to read Captain Rogers’ account of how the mission had gone, you had a sudden realization: you hadn’t thought about Steve at all for a few days. Maybe even a week. A text came through from Liam and it put an instant smile on your face. That was when you knew: the healing had begun.

__________

Two days after sending the text to Steve, you found yourself seated in a gorgeous Cathedral, sun shining through stunning stained-glass windows. A children’s choir sang as the casket draped with the British flag was carried down the aisle. You knew Steve would be there and was assigned as one of the pallbearers but the sight of him still caused a pinprick to your heart. The tiniest of memories oozed out of the corner of your heart where he had long resided. Even with time and moving on, you knew he would always have a place there. Reaching to the side, you grasped a hand of the man who sat beside you. You watched Steve take a seat by Sam near the front of the church as the preacher stood up. He gave his remarks and then introduced the next speaker, whom you recognized.

Your eyes welled with tears as Sharon told stories of her Aunt Peggy and the strong, kind, amazing woman she was. You knew about Sharon’s family ties to the former Director of Shield but kept it to yourself. She had her reasons for keeping that secret. You’d had the honor of meeting Peggy in the past before her mind began to slip and you remained close with the Carter family. Chills raised upon your skin as Sharon quoted the great woman you were all there to honor. It was especially appropriate, considering the current circumstances.

“Compromise where you can. And where you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right, even if the whole world is telling you to move. It is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, no. You move,” she concluded, her voice full of conviction and respect for her beloved aunt.

After she stepped down, a few more family members spoked and the service concluded as the congregation filed outside. You found yourself in the foyer, gazing into the chapel where Steve and Natasha were talking. You knew there was a tension there, given all that was happening with the Accords, but still she came. Steve’s shoulders were slumped as if they carried the weight of the world upon them. Even from a distance, you could see that this was not the same man you had known a year ago. So much had happened and he felt responsible for it all, even though it was not his actions alone that caused it. New York. Washington, D.C. Sokovia. Lagos. Each of them a burden he carried, which, even with his Super Serum strength, you feared would one day not be enough.

Natasha gave him a hug and walked down the aisle as you headed the opposite direction. She spotted you, eyes wide in surprised.

“Y/N. Wow. It’s been so long,” she spoke, the redhead gathering you in an embrace.

“It has. I’m sorry about that,” you apologized.

“Oh, I understand. Listen, I have a plane to catch but after Vienna, we should catch up,” she said, eyeing the man beside you who still held your hand.

“Absolutely,” you agreed, waving her goodbye.

As you approached Steve, he had his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and held your gaze. Shock was evident in his emotionally exhausted features.

“Y/N. It’s, um…wow, it’s good to see you,” he stepped forward, allowing a small smile for you.

“Hi, Steve. I’m so sorry for your loss. We will all miss her,” you offered condolences, feeling unshed tears threatening to fall.

“Thank you. Peggy was…she was one of a kind,” he added with a nod.

You smiled in agreement, then feeling that introductions were in order. “Steve, this is Liam, my boyfriend. Liam, this is Captain Steve Rogers.”

The brunet stepped forward and offered a hand while looking a little star-struck. “Captain Rogers…it’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Liam. And please, call me Steve.”

“Okay. Steve,” Liam grinned, knowing that this was going to be one of the fortunate times that he wasn’t going to regret meeting his hero. Steve really was as kind and honorable as everyone thought. You knew that for a fact.

“Liam, would you mind giving Y/N and I a moment?” Steve asked, much to your surprise.

“Of course,” Liam replied, then turning to you. “I’ll meet you outside,” he said, to which you nodded.

You watched him retreat down the aisle and then turned to Steve.

There was a beat of silence before Steve spoke. “He seems nice.”

“He is, yeah,” you replied, still waiting.

Steve exhaled, then asked, “You sent the text, didn’t you?”

“I…yes,” you confessed.

“I thought so. I didn’t recognize the international number and thought the only one who would let me know personally is you. Thank you for that,” he said sincerely, placing a hand on your arm.

You let out a small smile, “You’re welcome. You deserved to know. I’m just sorry the only contact we’ve had had to be like…this.” You waved a hand indicating to the chapel around you.

“Me, too. Speaking of which, I had another question…” he began, then continuing as you nodded permission. “After you left there were…rumors. Some said that I might have been part of the reason why you left and I just wanted to apologize if I did or said anything…”

You shook your head vigorously, placing a hand on his massive shoulder. “No, Steve. You did nothing wrong, I promise. Um…” You paused, deciding whether or not to confess but decided this was the best time and place to do so. “I did have…feelings for you. And when I overheard that you didn’t feel the same, I was hurt. But that wasn’t your fault, I promise. You’ve always been very straightforward and honest with me. I appreciate that so much. London was the right move for me, no doubt. I just…I needed time. I’m sorry if it resulted in shutting you out.”

“I understand. I thought…I really hope we can still be friends? I feel like I keep losing people and the Avengers and I don’t know…” his voice cracked as you saw a flicker of the vulnerability in this strong, incredible man.

You pulled him into a hug and held him for a few minutes, knowing that finally you could truly be there for him, unselfishly. He needed you and you wanted to be there. “Of course you still have me as a friend. I’m here for you.”

He pulled back with a sniffle. “Thank you,” he uttered, then gathering his composure before speaking. “So, uh…how’s London treating you?”

“London is wonderful,” you smiled. “Work is stressful at times, but the city is gorgeous and I’ve met some wonderful people. It’s starting to feel like home.”

He matched your smile, “I’m really happy for you. And I’m glad you found Liam. I hope he treats you right.”

“Things are really good so far. And thank you. What about you? Anyone special?”

“Um…” Steve’s eyes flickered unconsciously to something behind you and you turned to follow his gaze. Sharon Carter stood by the side door talking with Sam. “Not really.”

You gave a knowing smile. “Sharon is lovely. I’ve known her for quite some time. The situation may be…unique. But I know for certain that Peggy wished for you to find happiness and live the life you’ve always wanted. You deserve that. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and never would think to put yourself first, but just…think about it. You owe it to yourself to try.”

Steve gave you a teary smile and pulled you in for another grateful hug. “I’m so glad to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Steve,” you replied, pulling away. “We’ll talk soon. Okay?”

He nodded, then stepping back. You headed down the aisle toward the exit, taking one last glance at the man who still held a small piece of your heart. Seeing him today helped your feelings come full circle. Walking through the cathedral doors, you saw Liam waiting. He pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Everything okay with Steve?” he inquired as he helped you slip into your jacket he had been holding.

“I think so. Thank you for coming with me today,” you grasped your boyfriend’s hand.

“Of course. I’m always here for you,” he assured you, offering his arm as you walked toward his parked car down the block.

He opened the passenger’s side door for you and then stepped around the car. You stood for a moment, taking in all that had transpired today. While your heart still ached for the Carter family and for the great loss of such a wonderful woman, for you it was as if she had urged you to be courageous and seek the closure you so desperately needed. Even your desire that Steve might find his own happiness was genuine and you felt like Peggy would approve. She always wanted the best for Steve.

You slid into the car and fastened your seatbelt as the buildings began to slip past. Stealing a glance at the handsome man with his hands on the wheel, you felt nothing but peace. As difficult as the past year and a half had been, it brought you to this moment. Things changed, time passed, love was lost and gained, home was lost and found…each step was necessary. It was easy to wish for a different path at times, but as you looked back, it was clear that you were right where you belonged.

_____________________________________________________

Well, there you have it. I really hope you liked this last part and the closure it provided. I appreciate all your love and support. Please don’t hesitate to drop me a line to let me know your thoughts. Also, yes I did do all those things in London and it was incredible. I can’t believe it either. I was actually wearing my “London England” sweatshirt when I wrote most of this. How’s that for meta? ;)

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#steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve angst #steve x reader #reader x steve #captain america fic #reader x captain America #Y/N x steve rogers #heartbreak #you are my heaven fic

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