I was an angel, but they made me leave (джен)

“Petya,” Papa sighed, exasperated. He wiped his hand down his face, then dropped it and looked back at his son. “What’s wrong? Bad dream?”
Peter wished he could say that it was. Let his dad keep thinking that he was the nice little boy who never did anything bad, except for the times he was forced to. But he was bad now, and that realization caused a lump to grow in his throat.
“There’s something wrong with me,” Peter gasped.
***
It had been years since they were rescued. Peter grew older, became thin, sad, and violent. But violence was good. Violence maintained order. Order prevented chaos. Chaos had no purpose, unlike Peter, whose purpose, like violence, maintained order. And some people have to die to preserve that order. Dying is just their purpose. Peter was choosing to fulfill his.
(or: Peter’s struggling, Bucky’s overprotective, the worst video goes viral on twitter, John Walker is an empathetic asshole, Valentina tries to control the narrative, and Sam saves the day)