A/N: …Hello, all. So yeah, it has been around six years since I have written anything for Captain America, Avengers, etc. I know there has been quite a large amount of time, and so many things have happened, in my personal life and in the world in general. There has been some good: I've gotten married to the love of my life, my work life finally evened out, and I have my own dogs at home. There has been a lot of bad: a global pandemic, family members have passed away (not from the cause of the global pandemic), and I have diagnosed infertility, which has led to several failed attempts of IVF transfers. Truthfully, I feel that this last eighteen months have been the worst of my life. I feel like I have lost a sense of myself, but in the last few months, I am finally getting pieces of myself back. I have found new things to enjoy, but there are still things of my past that have not faded completely.

My writing had all but gone away…at least, until now. There is a story languishing in progress, but I cannot honestly say I will return to it. However, an idea for this, for the pairing I have had a decent amount of success and a lot of joy in writing about, popped up. After turning it over in my mind for the last few months, I have finally put pen to paper, or rather, fingers to keyboard.

Holly Martin has returned, in a modern AU format no less.

For those who are new here, this will be an AU within an AU—it is a Steve Rogers/OC pairing, specifically a pairing that led to what I have dubbed the Of Time series, and other AU spin-offs within. If you are a little lost, you may want to check those out first.

And to all my old followers, friends…welcome back.

I cannot promise weekly, regular updates as I have done in the past. I will do my best to not let time get away from me, and update where and when I can. I sincerely hope you are all doing alright, and that you all are finding parts of yourselves to rediscover and find joy in.

As in the past, I own nothing from the MCU. I only own the original characters. Also, I may be taking a dash from the newer series that have come out, but otherwise, I will be sticking to the MCU characters/understandings from pre-2020 (basically, Endgame was my endgame in the MCU, except for a character or two in the newer series). Given that this is going to be a modern AU, it doesn't matter much, anyway, but I wanted to be specific about my mind's understandings. Lastly, I still write/edit these on my own, so it's still unbeta'ed, but now it has nothing to do with my schedule and more to do with my being set in my millennial ways and doing things on my own, dammit.

Please read and enjoy.

The muted roar of the crowds echoed in his ears, and he ground out a growling groan, eyes closing against the pain. Years in the industry, and he rarely was out with injuries. Day in and day out, he was working on the road, keeping his body and mind on the job. The physicality, the cheers, the chants…all brought to a screeching halt by one small pop in the ankle.

It certainly wasn't the pop he ever hoped for. After the shifts of his storyline in the last couple of years, he had been looking forward to this run as the one that got him back on track. His tendons, apparently, thought otherwise.

The gurney he was on was being walked out through the back of the complex, the glowing lights filtering through the water in his eyes. Hisses ripped through his teeth, wretched disappointment coursing through him. It all happened so quickly; it should've gone as prepared for. But that climb up, his foot slipping on the turn buckle, and the slam back onto the mat, and it was clear how badly things had gone.

It kept replaying in his mind, what he could've done to avoid it, how he could've saved the match without having to leave it to his opponent to cover his ass. There was no hiding it after a few minutes, the desperate ringing of the bell and the flood of paramedics, the actual paramedics (not the local hired talent that were supposed to be part of another storyline that night) gathering around him. Unable to walk off without deep pain, they found a way to get him out of the stadium area. Someone helped him put on a sweatshirt, covering his ring gear and keeping him warm as the sweat began to cool.

A boot was missing, revealing the ugly, swollen look of his ankle and foot. For looking the part of a tall, strong man, it was perversely amazing how the smallest parts of the body could bring a person down, he mused dully. All that work, and he still had his weaknesses.

Still the broken, little guy he'd always be, his brain bitterly mused.

The line of thought occupied him, pulled him away from the pain for a few moments. His mind ran back, back to his youth, when he had been sick often, when he was weak and feeble. There were times he felt like the memories of those days were like dreams, especially after reaching adulthood. Growing up, filling out, his brief stint in the army, had left all that in the dust. His time in the wrestling company compacted that. In the last four years, though, things were sliding backwards. Perhaps it was fitting that it would be punctuated with a major injury, his first one in over a decade.

A count greeted his ears, not the count out he had anticipated earlier that evening, but a count to lift the gurney into an ambulance. He had no idea of the time passing, but he was aware that this injury, at minimum, would take him out of the ring for several weeks. He reached up, combing through sweaty, blond hair. Tired, blue eyes stared up at the roof of the ambulance, the roll of the vehicle fading as he tried to calm himself and accept his reality.

No matter the setback, no matter the injury, he would get through it and come back. Inwardly, he began to make a timeline for his needs, how he could potentially rehabilitate, and how soon he could be let back onto the circuit with the company. With any luck, it would only be a few weeks. Months, at most, and then, he would be back.

Not much could keep Steve Rogers down, not even himself, and he wouldn't be brought down.

He only hoped that, when he was able to get back up, it finally would be better.

xXxXxXx

Six Months Later

"I cannot believe I am doing this," she muttered under her breath, taking a moment to stare at the building before her. Sleek, clean lines of metallic grey met with tall glass windows, the outside space surrounding the walls with palm trees and flowering bushes. The giant block letters near the rooftop declaring the company name were bright white, stark red outlining each letter and making it appear that it was glowing even in the sunshine. Seated in her car, she could not help but marvel at the size of the facility, given what its main purpose was. She leaned back, her head hitting the rest and her eyes closing as she huffed out her mouth. Despite her reservations, her nerves were snapping in anticipation. After all, she was there for an interview, and even though she had never thought that she would be approaching anything for that industry, she still could not believe it.

She hadn't considered a wrestling company—no, the top wrestling company in the United States—would be on the lookout for writers.

Holly Martin was not much of a fan of professional wrestling. The closest she had gotten was her own brother's minor obsession when he was in eighth grade, when Marvel Wrestling had hit new heights and the mainstream media. Back then, he was all about the moves, the jumps, the insane stunts, and, in her opinion, the boneheaded storylines. Even after his obsession waned, she still ribbed him a bit for it, wondering how he could stand the obviously fake weddings, the silly staged contract signings, and the cheesy costuming. Her experience was thinking that it was just some big dudes pinning other dudes, and they got awarded a shiny belt for their efforts.

Clearly, her prepubescent dismissal was coming back to bite her in the butt. If she got the job, at least. She couldn't afford to be picky; her last position as an editor for a publishing company resulted in a layoff. The publisher had since closed, and her last paycheck provided just enough cushion to her savings to get her by for the following few weeks. However, Holly was never one to rest on her laurels, and she knew better than to let an opportunity that was in any way related to her degree (that expensive, damn Bachelor's in English that she was still paying off) slip through her fingers.

It also helped that a friend, positioned as a trainer as she was, was able to talk up her writing abilities. To help expand her repertoire in college, Holly had taken a couple of scriptwriting courses, just to give some options if her then-dream of the next great American novel did not pan out. When the word came through that Marvel Wrestling Entertainment had gone through some administrative changes, her friend Sarah had easily directed Human Resources to Holly's online resume. A couple of phone calls later, she was invited to come for an in-person interview.

All she had to do was go in and put her best foot forward.

Opening her eyes, Holly picked up her phone and looked at the time on the screen, noting that she was fifteen minutes early. Well, it would do better for her to go in and present herself. Swallowing down the last bit of nerves that had wormed up into her throat, she put away the device and grabbed her tote bag. Glancing at the rearview mirror, she could see her makeup was still in place. Her wavy, brown hair was still secure in the low bun she'd put it in, and the collar on her shirt was not crumpled. Shucking off the flip-flops she wore while driving, she quickly tucked her feet into some closed toe shoes before getting out of the car.

The bag straps dug a little into her shoulder as she moved toward the entrance, the humidity of the place encompassing her. Having grown up in the Midwest, it wasn't anything she wasn't used to, but given that Washington D.C. was delightfully further south and east than Minnesota, it stepped it up a few notches. She hurried as quickly as she could, trying to beat the sweat threatening to start forming on her skin. Passing through the revolving door, she strode up to the reception desk, politely giving her name and reason for being there before sitting on a couch nearby. Inside the lobby, long banners lined the walls, previous wrestling greats adorning them in black and white, the years of when they performed right underneath. Studying them to pass the time, Holly was examining one of a character called Red Skull (and the clear use of prosthetics to achieve the skull-like mask on his face) when she heard her name called.

Another woman, with reddish blonde hair and light eyes shining with her smile, strode over. Her sharp business suit stood out glaringly beside Holly's blouse and black trousers, leaving her feeling marginally underdressed. Still, she was warm and friendly with her greeting, tucking her papers and pen under one arm.

"Welcome to Marvel Wrestling Entertainment, or MWE. I'm Pepper Potts, head of talent and acquisitions," the woman introduced herself. Holly must have looked confused, as Pepper continued to elaborate, "Usually, our HR rep would be doing interviews, but since I will be looking over them anyway, I decided to take a few off their hands."

Holly grinned back, the nerves fluttering again as she stood. "Hello, Ms. Potts. I'm Holly."

"Good to meet you, Holly. Why don't you follow me, and then we can get started?" Ms. Potts asked, gesturing for her to follow. Taking up her bag again, the brunette endeavored to keep up, and after a few turns down some back hallways she was guided into a conference room. Inset windows on the far wall brightened up the space, despite it being a very standard sort of conference room. Once they were both seated, Pepper proceeded to extract a print-off of the resume and started to ask typical interview questions. Affirming her educational background, her previous job experience, where she planned to be in five years, Holly gave her answers, swallowing down her butterflies as best as possible. When asked for any examples of her writing, she dug into her tote, removing a binder of collected poems, short stories, and edited papers she had assisted with over the last few years since graduating.

After taking several minutes to read them—and Holly was pleasantly surprised to see she was reading them at all—Pepper looked back up, her grin firmly in place.

"I like what I am seeing with the writing samples. But tell me, what brought you to MWE? Looking at your resume, this does not appear to be in your typical wheelhouse."

Holly felt prickles up her spine as she inwardly conceded to the truth of the observation. Clearing her throat, she spoke again.

"I, well, as you can see, my last job had gone through layoffs. When the opportunity for here came up, I thought that it might be a refreshing change." She glanced to the side, the considerations she had over the last days prior to the interview coming to mind. A half smile formed unbidden, and she looked back at Pepper. "Kind of like seeing my story coming to life in a way, should it be accepted."

Ms. Potts' smile did not waver, though an eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

"Interesting." Leaning forward, she queried, "What has been your exposure to pro wrestling?"

The prickles transformed into a flush, and Holly discreetly swallowed.

'Oh, shit.' She knew better than to say that out loud, though she did struggle for a second to answer.

"I, uh—"

Pepper cut in again, to clarify, "I mainly ask because this company has been going for decades, and it would be rare indeed to find someone without any exposure to it. I'm curious."

Relief flooded through the younger woman, and she was able to reply with alacrity. "Oh, my brother was a fan during the 90's and early 2000's. He still watches occasionally, I think. For the Friday night show, at least."

Pepper gave a knowing chuckle. "Ah, quite a time to get into it, the end of the Howard Stark era. And so, you were exposed by proxy, then."

'Like a plague victim,' Holly mused to herself, once again keeping the thought inside.

"It would be great to learn more about it, and to see what has changed. I'm not familiar with the current roster, but I would be glad to work with them."

Letting the answer sit in the air, Pepper eyed her again, something akin to scrutiny in her gaze. Swallowing, Holly forced her hands to stay in her lap and not instinctively curl around the ends of her blouse sleeves. Meeting the gaze, it was only a few seconds later when Pepper detached the page she had been writing on and pushed the now-blank notepad across the table to her. A pen shortly followed, and the brunette's brow screwed up in confusion.

Gesturing to the paper, Ms. Potts then gave voice to what she had been considering.

"I have a scenario for you: the Black Widow, one of our current staples, has been in an ongoing feud with her 'little sister' Yelena. They previously came in as tag team partners, with the central goal of dominating the women's tag division. The gimmick was that they were trained from a young age in something like a secret agency. However, they were separated by the Black Widow being drawn into the stable called The Free Agents. Different ideals, different goals. How would you choose to either resolve their issues in-ring and remain separate fighters, or to bring them back in as a tag team?"

She sat back, giving Holly the time to ponder the scenario. It was very interesting, watching as the young woman chewed her lip and twiddled the pen between her fingers. Soon enough, though, she saw what she delighted in seeing at the writers' meeting she occasionally sat in on. The spark, the brightness that lit up their faces when coming up with ideas flooded into Holly's, and Pepper felt a little satisfaction in the woman before her starting to jot down an outline, bullet points marking off individual plot points in the flow.

"What were the previous ideals that bonded them?" she asked after a few minutes of writing. Amused, Pepper explained that it was the single-minded notion of ruling the division from the shadows, eventually working to manipulate all the roster. Holly nodded absentmindedly, scribbling that down and scratching out another note. The pen was put down after several more minutes, and she picked up the notepad, not waiting for an invitation to speak about her plot.

"If the Black Widow shifted, and sees Yelena as a sister, then she likely is looking to bring her to her side. Free her, I suppose. I think it would take writing a scenario that would force them to work together, like say, the secret agency decided to come back and try to take Yelena back with them? Like, they are upset they lost Black Widow, and the Black Widow would want to save her sister, but the, uh, stable can't interfere due to being outsiders. Yelena would put up a good fight, but she would be beset on all sides. Until, suddenly, the Black Widow appears suddenly. She'll storm in, fight them off, help her sister up, and then they fight back-to-back to repel them. Once that is taken care of, maybe somehow over the next couple of shows they come to an understanding, making up as sisters but with them working separately."

From Holly's memories of it, a lot of pro wrestling played out like midlevel action movies, or even soap operas. If she could put it more in the first category, like a spy movie live in a wrestling ring, she felt she could construct the story from that point. The excitement flooded through her as she spoke, and despite having derided the medium in the past, she was having fun thinking up ideas. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have it as a job; the creativity that had felt stagnant in her since her editing job was starting to move in her again.

When she was finished relaying what she had thought up, she chanced another look at Pepper's face, unreadable as it was notwithstanding her smile. Unsure of how to interpret the expression, some of Holly's newfound enthusiasm dipped, and she put the notepad down, settling her hands back in her lap.

"Obviously, I don't have any dialogue prepared, but that would come once I would get to know the characters and their personal voices," she ventured. There was another beat of silence, and then Ms. Potts stood. Before the brunette could say a word, the other woman strode over to the door, opening it and gesturing for her to come along.

"If you'd like to come this way, Holly, I would like to take you on a tour of the facility."

Taken aback, Holly managed to push herself up and gather her things. On impulse, she tore off the page with her storyline notes and stashed them into her bag.

"O-okay," she agreed, moving around the table to follow Pepper out the door. They walked together down a set of hallways, with Ms. Potts indicating a wing belonging to the writers' offices. As most were busy with work, they moved quietly by the doors, the taps of keys on keyboards and scratching under low speaking voices meeting their ears. Once through there, the pair of women found their way to the center of the building. Stadium seats raked up and away from the wrestling ring in the center. A large neon sign for MWE's show for newer talent, UAC, was hanging on the far wall, deep red curtains intermixed with striking gold swathing the walls. They hid the entrance and exit to locker rooms, Pepper said, and they filmed there weekly. She was lucky to come in at a time when it was empty.

Holly took in the sight of it all, and even though it was only lit by the backup lighting, the setup was impressive.

"Woah," she breathed, and Pepper's smile grew wide with pride.

"The facility here has been undergoing improvements since Ton—Mr. Stark, took over." The correction did not go unnoticed, but Holly chose to ignore it. She took a few steps forward, daring to put her palm on the edge of the ring. The coarse material brushed against her skin, and she inhaled the smell of mats.

"I'm surprised he made the time for it. With all the tech stuff he's done," she remarked aloud. After all, Tony Stark's proclivities ran towards advancing scientific technological endeavors. From what she knew, Stark Industries had been at the forefront of smart electronics since the late 90's. The rumors of government contracts still floated around, but she could not say for sure if she believed them or not. She wondered if, had Howard Stark not passed away when his son was so young, Tony would have retained ownership of the wrestling company his father built on the side of his own work.

She glanced back over her shoulder and watched as Ms. Potts chuckled, shaking her head.

"Never underestimate the idiosyncrasies of the one percent," she murmured, and Holly sighed, turning back to stare around the space.

"I guess."

Heels clicked across the unpadded floors, deadened as the other woman approached the ring as well. A few moments of quiet sat with them before Pepper chose to speak again.

"I won't lie, Holly. Writers who have had little experience with the pro wrestling business often don't do well with the material they have to work with. You not only have to work with a storyline, but often intersecting stories, culminating ultimately for the grand event of the season. And that story can change all the way up until showtime. If it doesn't work, it won't be done. Mr. Stark wants things cohesive, though he is open to improvisation as needed. If it does not produce results, he will not be happy. Especially if it goes against all the talent here. There is a respect you must have for the people involved, if not for the past that produced it."

The two women stared at each other, the elder's face hardening somewhat. It was clear how much she cared for the company, and Holly could only admire it, even as the scrutiny rankled. Pepper's eyes softened somewhat, and she let out a slow breath before going on.

"There is also a chance, if things go well, you will have to be on the road for a lot of the time. It won't be as often as the wrestlers, but it will be enough that it can wear down a person. Things can change quickly, and it may be difficult to roll with the changes."

Holly took a moment, truly pondered her words. Many expectations she had not thought about were apparent. But then again, she weighed the circumstances that had brought her to that moment in the first place. Her hometown was far away; she had moved years ago. She relished the chance to learn and grow, and if she failed, so what? At least she had tried. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed past the nerves and spoke.

"I won't deny anything that you said. I can work with others, and I want to see this do well. I want to see the story come to life, but not at the expense of others. I may not have been involved in this world before, but I am willing to do my best here." Raising her chin almost defiantly, she murmured, "I welcome the challenge, even if I do have some sleepless nights to go with them as well as the traveling."

Something about what she said must have registered deeper than anticipated, as the glint in Ms. Potts' eyes took on a new lilt. Once, twice, she nodded, and then extended a hand to her.

"Thank you for coming in. We will reach out around the middle of next week with an answer," she said, and Holly shook the proffered hand.

"You're welcome. And thank you for your time, Ms. Potts," she replied, a sense of relief and deflation running through her. There was nothing else to say; she had made her case, and it was no longer in her hands. Looking around, she asked, "By chance, could you direct me towards the main workout room? I know one of your trainers, and I was hoping to say hello before leaving."

Chuckling, Ms. Potts was amenable to the request, and took her to the correct hall before bidding her a final farewell. Situated at the back of the building, the interior, glass-paned walls of the training space stretched high. It, too, had a wrestling ring, though it was vastly understated and pushed to the far end of the room. Rowing machines, weightlifting benches, ropes, and barres littered the space, mats covering the floor. Along the far wall were tall mirrors, and Holly caught her distant reflection in them as she went through the door. Looking around, she finally spotted who she was looking for: a petite blond woman in sweats, waving at the retreating back of, she could only assume, one of the female wrestlers. When the smaller woman turned, her green eyes lit up and her smile turned broad.

"Hey!" she called, and suddenly she was jogging over. Sarah, good friend that she was, had no compunctions about giving Holly a sweaty hug. After the taller brunette's protests were ignored and the hug was returned, she pulled back, holding her at arm's length and raising her eyebrows. "How did it go?"

Holly shrugged her shoulders, caution in her tone as she said, "I think it went alright. I'm not sure they will want to take me on with my lack of experience."

"Pfft," Sarah spewed, stepping back and flapping a hand in the air. "My background is in dance, and I'm still here."

"You also did gymnastics, too," Holly pointed out wryly, recalling her friend's stories from her high school years. Her friend rolled her eyes up to the ceiling for a moment, before settling her gaze back on the taller woman.

"C'mon, Holl. You're so creative, you would be good at this." Reaching out, she grinned and tapped her on the arm. "And who knows? Maybe you'll finally start that novel you've been dreaming of, too."

Holly let out a derisive laugh then, and it was a bit disheartening to hear.

"We'll see." Brushing away the thoughts, she then asked her friend, "When are you off work?"

Confirming the end of her day, Sarah and Holly made plans to meet at their favorite watering hole to further break down the day's details. Taking out her phone, the brunette blew out a breath, noting there were a few hours left until the agreed time. The blonde pointed to a door at the southern end of the room, telling her that she could exit there, since she had to get back to work. Giving Sarah a mock salute, Holly said her goodbyes, attempting to adjust the straps of her bag as she walked. When they slipped yet again, she huffed out a groan, turning to look at the straps and not paying attention as the door opened. As she was not watching where she was going, she was shocked to have walked directly into something, more or accurately, someone.

"Oh, sorry!" the person said, the baritone alerting her to the fact that it was a man. Big hands clasped her shoulders, steadying her as she started to stumble back. Flustered, she grabbed onto the arms holding her in place. Blinking rapidly, Holly looked up, taking in the fellow. His eyes were hidden behind aviator sunglasses, brows screwed up and mouth twisting in concern. Noting the flop of blond hair and the cut of his jaw, not to mention the height and size of him, she felt another flush run through her. Thoroughly embarrassed, she ducked her head, firmly holding her tote in place and refusing to look him in the eye.

"My fault, sorry," she muttered. Coughing once, she waited until his firm grasp dropped, and she gestured with her free hand toward the door. "Well, yeah."

Nodding her thanks, she pushed past him, not noticing his gaping as she scurried away. As she passed through the door, she heard her friend's sharp gasp, but was too lost in her thoughts to pay it much mind.

"Hey, Ste—!" floated out her voice just as the door snapped shut. Shaking off the awkwardness, Holly raised her head again, moving with purpose through the parking area to get back to her car. Time to go home and send out some more applications, she figured, as it was not a certainty that she would even get offered the job. She'd do that, then meet with her best friend for some drinks, keep moving forward. The man she ran into was a mere blip on the radar for the day, and she managed to push the memory to the back of her mind.

A/N 2: I know, very OC-heavy right out the gate, but it's build-up. Plus, I am working my way back into the writing groove, so I beg your indulgence on this. Steve will be more central as time goes on, I promise.

Regarding the premise…remember how I said earlier that I found new things to enjoy? Well, guess who started getting into professional wrestling since dating my now-husband? Yeah, me. With my background in theatre, it is like watching TV drama, but with athletics thrown in. It is so much fun to watch, and to see what the wrestlers do for a storyline. It's also fascinating to see all the work that is put into doing these performances every week, year-round. That being said, I am still learning new things about the backstage process for it, so bear with me.

As I said before, I cannot promise weekly updates, but I will try my best to get them out in a somewhat timely fashion. I hope you are all having a good day.

Thanks for reading, please review, and I will see you all in the next chapter!