_{gcdsfavorite ⤷ steve rogers}

     the world CRIED for her — words turned to chants, to pleas, to prayers. she was not apocalyptic; she would survive beyond that. once upon a time, steve had sat in church with his ma and listened to the priest speak of END TIMES. he talked of a beast with a marking, a cruel creature with heads that whispered lies. how wrong he was. wanda maximoff was GODLY, beautiful — and steve knew her as goodness, as love, as the reason his heart pound, pound, pounded. 

     HE WAS WAR, a horseman that existed to protect her. there were darker forces in the world than magic, and even though she might not need his strength, he represented more than that. he stepped closer to her, shield gleaming in the red glow of her aura. none would dare approach her. her name beat in that secret spot of his heart, but NOTHING ELSE seemed to phase him. 

_{she felt him move, felt his stance change, felt him ready for the impending chaos to erupt —- even while suspended in the air’s unnatural stillness, with a million human hearts in the palm of her hand, she felt him. it was a mythic sort of devotion, this love they held for one another. fate bonded them, a string as red as the power that flowed from her. as inevitable as the slaughter they would surely wage.} 

_{floating downward, she slipped a silent command into the hearts she clutched. blasphemers, demagogues, agitators — all would perish. whether by fire, blade, or bullet it mattered not. blood would make the earth fertile. here, at this place of armageddon, they would watch it flow.}

_{eyes still aglow, she took his hand. they waited.}

_{steve rogers had been a good man. she ate that good and swallowed it whole. somewhere in her mind, a muzzled ghost wept.}