#i fail to be able to word my own thoughts and social anxiety keeps kicking me in the guts

[killjpeg-reblogs]

I'm kinda freaking out that im a failing adult just from social standpoint. Im so fucking unpleasant to have around

[echo-of-sounds]

i don’t know

Okay, I don’t know where else to put this, so you can ignore it if you want, but I just need to get some thoughts, feelings, and anxieties out before I breakdown because of them. This’ll probably get long. And I’ll probably cry from frustration while writing this.

Two summers ago, when I was 21, my therapist said it was a possibility that I had Asperger's, mainly because of the social and cognitive symptoms. I have a horrible time understanding abstract information. In school, I cold never do a project unless I had concrete details. I just couldn’t grasp what they were asking of me. Teachers would narrow it down a bit, but it never helped. I need a clear outline. I legitimately could not do it otherwise. I froze and panicked and ended up nearly failing projects because of the lack of concrete direction.

I have a hard time understanding, what should be, simple sentences. I ask people to reword what they said or explain it in more depth. Some do. Some get angry and accuse me of not paying proper attention. I completely am. But I genuinely cannot make sense of their words and feel left out because they refuse to repeat themselves. It’s so frustrating. I loose track of the conversation, stop contributing, then they get angry again because I’m not responding to them.

My memory pertaining to certain things, is beyond amazing. I can recite the seating arrangements from all of my high school class. That was five years ago. But outside of that, it’s terrible (I know ADHD plays a role in this too). I always focus on the smaller details even if they weren’t important. I focused so much on them, I failed to see the larger picture. This also impacted so much of my schoolwork.

When I talk, I have no inflection. My voice is low and I often mumble. So many people have gotten angry at me for it. Then when I try to speak louder, to the point I’m genuinely strain myself and feel like I’m yelling, they still say I’m too quite. So I give up talking.

I had to go to speech therapy when I was younger (around 5 and 6 years old) because I still had trouble learning how to speak. My mom said I wouldn’t properly pronounce anything, use words wrong, and ‘babble’ a lot.

I’m so fucking clumsy. I bruise myself regularly because I just run into everything, even though they’ve been in the same place for years. I hit my hands off of things, nearly run into walls, and kick things often. 

And my sensitivities are off the charts. It’s honestly ridiculous (I know ADHD also plays a role in this, but sometimes I feel like it’s much more than that). People tell me to stop being a picky eater when the smell of fish makes me want to vomit and feeling beans in my mouth is just plain wrong. The only smell I can tolerate is vanilla. Anything else and I want to cry. Clothing is horrible. I’m so rarely comfortable. And noises are the worst. My dad says it’s quite, but I can hear the Tv, the Tv in the other room, the sink running, that beeping, the AC going, someone clicking, the sizzling on the stove, and it’s all too much. 

When I was younger, I used to have temper tantrums. A lot. They were bad. I’d hit myself, scratch myself with pens, and bang my head off the floor. I barely remember them, but I do remember it being more than just a ‘temper tantrum.’ The world was just too much and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I had a meltdown.

The severe self-harm eventually stopped, but the meltdown’s still happen to this day. My mom tries to get me to talk about it so she can help. But I can’t even explain why it happened half the time. It just did. 

I’ve had so few close friends throughout my life. The ones I do make, don’t last. It’s hard for me to keep them as a friend. They don’t do anything wrong or bad. I just can never keep that connection. I barely interact with people. Even when they’re around, I just don’t talk. I abhor looking people in the eyes. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t even know why! People get angry at me. They think I’m ignoring them when I’m not. I’m just not looking directly at them.

Communicating my feelings and expressing empathy is something I just cannot do. So I fake it. I feel worse about not feeling bad about someone’s trouble than I do actually feeling bad for them (I don’t know if that makes sense). I fake it so I don’t sound rude. I don’t want them to be angry at me.

I’d get in trouble at school when I did something ‘wrong,’ but I didn’t understand what I did wrong. I still don’t to some point. Teachers just told me I broke a rule and was in trouble. When I would ask why, they said I should be able to know that by myself. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I thought about it.

I have a morning routine. I do it daily. If it ever gets interrupted, stopped, or I can’t complete it for whatever reason, my entire day is off. I try to continue normally, but I can’t focus. I just now my morning was messed up and I spend the rest of the day obsessing over it. It doesn’t go away until the next day when I can complete it properly. 

I’ve always had hyperfocuses. ADHD affects this. I know. Some come and go, like a certain video game will consume my life or I’m suddenly preoccupied with writing poems for a week. But those go away. All my life, I’ve loved reading and learning about dinosaurs/megafauna/evolution, plants, and psychology. They’re easy for me to learn about. I retain so much information without trying. I never had to study for my psych. exams. Never. And I always aced them. I just obsessed about the subject and they remained in my memory so well.

As for stimming, I’ve done a lot of different things throughout my life, but I was always told to stop, told they were annoying, or questioned about them. So I stopped doing each one because I was scared people would get angry with me. Because some have. 

I used to rub my fingers together. It kept my hands busy, but it also helped me focus and relieved some anxious energy. I didn’t know why. It just made me feel better. I’d be on the computer, using the mouse with my right hand, rubbing my fingers together with my left. My dad questioned why I did it. I didn’t have an answer so I did it less. I did it in school, while taking a test, and the teacher told me to stop because it was disruptive. I eventually stopped doing it all together because people would constantly make me feel bad for it.

I also used to babble. It was one of the reasons I was sent to speech therapy. Instead of helping me learn how to talk properly, because I did need help with that, the workers there just forced me to stop babbling/humming/repeating a word because it wasn’t proper behavior for the situation I was in. 

Though I don’t babble anymore, as that was basically forced out of my behavior, I still hum and repeat lines (whether from a Tv show or a book) to myself, sometimes for days at a time. I also move my head and neck around and twist my wrists while I’m focusing on something. Half the time, I don’t realize I’m doing it. It takes another person to point it out.

My therapists said it was a possibility that I had Asperger’s. My psychiatrist said she didn’t believe so because I was able to connect with her. She felt I didn’t ‘align’ with the social troubles. I can talk to her, share feelings, look her in the eye, smile ate jokes (though sometimes I fake smile- I see another person smile so I match it), and I don’t have trouble going off topic and rambling about specific subjects.

I said okay at the time. She’s a smart woman and I trust her. But ever since, it’s been on my mind. I’ve always felt different. I don’t mean that in like ‘I’m special’ kind of way. I mean it like, ‘There’s something wrong with me and I don’t understand what it is. I don’t understand why others can do X while that takes me longer/more effort to understand. I genuinely felt ostracized. But I just accepted it.’

I don’t know how to bring it up to my mom and/or dad. I know my mom will be supportive, but I’m scared about other people. My younger brother makes jokes about autism. My siblings, dad, and stepmom don’t do anything. It pisses me off to no end. I’ve yelled and sworn at him for what he says. But he keeps doing it. My other siblings say it’s just a joke and I need to relax, but I can’t. They aren’t jokes. They’re rude, ableist, and most of them are making fun of things I do. He, nor none of family, just don’t that because I keep them hidden.

And I don’t know how to bring it back up to my psychiatrist. I feel connected to many of the symptoms and like it explains so much of my life, especially when I was young, but I don’t know how to explain all my thoughts on the subject. When she asks me a question, I often freeze and undercut my own troubles and downplay it. I’ve been obsessing over this the past few months. It’s partly why my depression got bad for a time. I don’t know it I’m making a mountain out of a mole or if I should actually seek professional help to help me, especially since I’ve applied for disability benefits because my mental health has been so bad the past couple of years.

Anyway, I’m done my ranting. Thanks for listening if you did. And I’m open to advice. I’ve just felt so stuck recently and I feel like it’ll only get worse.

[sapphiremoonlighttoo]

Captain America: The Scarlet Winter

Summary: What if instead of Natasha, Steve’s partner in crime during the events of The Winter Soldier was young S.H.I.E.L.D agent Wanda Maximoff? AU where after the attack where she lost her parents, Wanda was rescued by S.H.I.E.L.D agents. 

Characters/Pairing: Steve Rogers/Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes, Maria Hill

Word Count: 18.5k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mild language

Notes: POV Wanda Maximoff, Follows the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier as well as the life of Wanda Maximoff. For the sake of this story, Stark Industries did not supply the weapons used for the attacks on Sokovia. *this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr so please bear with me*

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Prologue

[1999, Sokovia]

For a moment, there was nothing but the ringing in Wanda’s ears to remind her that she was still alive. The smoke was so thick, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. She wanted nothing more than to let it swallow her, to simply lay down and dream away the sweltering heat and the sounds of blasts that were slowly returning with her hearing. As the smoke cleared, she saw her home reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble, her parents nowhere to be seen. Although deep down she knew it was a futile thought, she imagined that her parents had made it out alive, that somehow they knew what was coming for them and would soon return to their children.

“Wanda! Wanda!”

Wanda’s trance was broken as Pietro pulled her away and under their parents' bed. Before she had time to react, a second bomb fell into the rubble only a few feet from the bed, causing her and her brother to jump. She braced for the impact of another explosion, holding on to Pietro as tight as she could. Pietro tried to convince Wanda to flee, but she knew there was no hope; eventually the bomb would go off.

For two days, the twins waited for the shell to explode. They whispered stories to each other, desperately trying to get their minds somewhere better, happier. Wanda knew that if they did not make a move, they would die here anyway with dry mouths and empty bellies.

“Over here! I think we’ve got survivors!” 

Wanda nudged her brother awake from his troubled sleep, as she saw the movement of several pairs of boots trudging around to the rubble, to the twins’ shelter. 

“Here! Here!” Wanda called out, using what little english she knew.

“I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay,” she heard a woman’s voice call out and she was pulled out from under the bed. She made sure her brother was safe before wrapping her arms around the stranger’s neck and drifting off into an uneasy sleep, tears still streaming their way down her face.

---

[2013, Sokovia]

Wanda knew what this mission was really for. It was a test of not only her tactical skills in the field, but a test of her emotional strength as well. She knew the dangers of becoming too emotionally involved in a mission, the way it made you a risk to yourself and others. She also knew this was why Fury had decided to grant her and Pietro this assignment. It was supposed to be a simple mission to gather intel. The problem was that this mission took place in her home country, where she and her brother had not been since they had been rescued from the fallout of the attack that killed her parents. S.H.I.E.L.D had been following rumors regarding the location of Loki’s lost Scepter as well as whispers of unethical human experimentation. 

As much as she had wanted to prove her strength, in the days approaching the mission she was overcome with anxiety and flooded with nightmares. However, when the time came to fly out to Sokovia, both her and Pietro had felt their training kick in and it became like any other assignment. Yet, this was not any other assignment. When the twins had arrived along with the rest of their S.H.I.E.L.D team, the group was swiftly outnumbered and the twins were separated from the team. Back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, the twins had officially been reported missing and many assumed them to be dead.

When they discovered a facility hidden deep in the woods, Wanda and Pietro believed that they were going to go back to Fury presenting their discoveries and finally be awarded the trust they deserved as well as the chance to take on more serious assignments. 

“Something seems wrong about this,” Wanda tried to warn Pietro as they walked deeper into what appeared to be an abandoned laboratory. Suddenly, a scream tore through the silence and Wanda immediately ran towards the sound. Wanda watched in horror as several scientists observed a woman collapse to the ground after coming in contact with what she recognized as the Scepter. The last thing she saw was the woman’s lifeless body before she was struck suddenly with a sharp pain and her vision went black.

---

“You can’t do this!” Wanda screamed as she banged her hands helplessly on the glass. 

“Touch the sample, or watch your brother die. We will have you, one way or another” One of the scientists spat back as a large guard held a gun to Pietro’s head.

She slowly stepped towards the Scepter, shaking with fear. The cerulean stone shot out of its place in the Scepter suddenly and seemed to flow to her like a magnet. She reached only a finger out to touch the stone and when she came in contact with it, it burst into a bright yellow flare in which she saw a vision of an unknown figure who overwhelmed her with their power, which she could feel coursing through her own body. 

---

Wanda’s eyes opened gradually. She could see several agents that she recognized, including Director Fury. She felt the slight shake of the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D aircraft.

“You’re safe, Wanda,” Fury said in a whisper, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. Wanda had never known Fury to be a comforting presence, or to speak so softly as this. Shouldn’t she be reprimanded for the way the mission had gone so wrong? Hadn’t she and Pietro failed Fury?

Pietro.

Wanda bolted up suddenly, a pit forming in her stomach and she stumbled around looking for any sign of her twin.

“Pietro!” She called out, her chest heaving, desperately searching for him. Wanda’s knees buckled and she fell to the cold metal floor of the plane. “How could you?” she cried out at Fury. If Pietro wasn’t with her, right beside her, then she realized that he was still there in the hands of those wretched men.

“We did what we could. There was no way we could get both of you out.”

“Is he alive?” Wanda demanded, hanging on to hope.

“Yes, but I’m afraid we have no idea where he is now. Another team was sent to do recon on the facility after we were able to rescue you. The lab was cleared out. All that was left were bodies.”

Wanda sensed the anger rising in her and at once a blast of energy left her body knocking down several crates of weapons and supplies as well as knocking out several other passengers. Wanda looked on in alarm and the damage she had caused and collapsed in burning sobs.

“It’s going to be okay, Wanda. It’s going to be okay.”

Chapter 1 - The Lemurian Star

[March 2014, Washington D.C]

Wanda woke suddenly, clutching her heaving chest and trying desperately to catch her breath. In her panic she had unintentionally blasted the framed photos and art prints off the walls of her apartment as well as cracking the vanity mirror of her nightstand. She had had the nightmare again. She was back in the rubble and destruction of her childhood home, except this time she was alone, trembling under that bed all by herself. She called out for her brother but it was no use; Pietro was nowhere to be found.

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug and patted both her shoulders lightly with her hands, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she had been taught to do. When she found herself to be focused she released her grip on her body and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She took in the mess that she had made of her bedroom and used the opportunity as a chance to practice her powers, which she had been training as part of her rehabilitation from the failed Sokovia mission. She focused her mind on a framed picture of her and Pietro that had fallen from the wall near her bedroom door, willing it to return to its home on the wall and guiding it with her hands. She marveled at her precision, returning each decoration and keepsake back to its spot. Not much good had come into her life in the past few months, with Pietro still missing and the endless stream of nightmares that kept her awake into the late hours of the night, but the powers. Wanda had never felt so powerful and capable and the constant training needed to fully wield her powers gave her something to take her mind off things, something to be proud of.

Wanda pulled herself out of bed and to the bathroom to get herself ready for the long day ahead. It was the day of her first mission since Pietro had gone missing. If Wanda could prove to Fury that she was prepared to be out in the field and that she could keep her powers in check, then she could take the search for Pietro into her own hands.

--- 

Wanda sat at her kitchen table sipping her tea as she went through the day’s itinerary. Her first objective was to pick up Steve Rogers and brief him on the night’s mission. Too inexperienced to take part in the battle for New York, she had only heard of the man through stories and gossip. The Living Legend, The Man Out of Time, Captain America. Although it wasn’t technically part of Fury’s directive, Wanda figured making Steve’s acquaintance would be a mission on all its own. She herself hadn’t had much experience in the way of social interaction lately and if she was really being honest she wasn’t the warmest of company before Pietro went missing. Now she was expected to make small talk with a man who spent 70 years frozen in the arctic. 

Wanda went back to her bedroom to gather her tactical gear, making sure she had everything prepared for the mission. If anything was to go wrong with the assignment, it would not be due to her sloppy preparation. She tried her best to steady her shaking hands as she placed weapons in their carriers. She headed to the front door of the apartment, taking a deep breath before carefully turning the knob and stepping out.

---

 Wanda took in the view of the city as she drove down the busy streets in her S.H.I.E.L.D appointed vehicle. The jet black corvette was a bit too flashy for her taste. It wasn’t hard for her to spot Steve along the path of the monument with his height and bulk overshadowing his companion. She pulled up next to the tree where the two men conversed in the shade.

“Mr. Rogers,” Wanda called out, “I’m Wanda Maximoff. I’m your ride.”

“Well isn’t it a wonderful day in our neighborhood, Mr. Rogers,” the other man chuckled, looking up at Steve from the base of the tree. Wanda laughed along weakly, her cheeks burning red.

“It is nice out today, now that you mention it,” Steve replied, missing the exchange between Wanda and the other man.

“I guess you do have quite a lot to catch up on,” the man remarked.

“Pleasure to meet you Wanda,” Steve said, meeting Wanda’s eyes for the first time. After a brief pause Steve continued,“Well, I guess we better get going. Thanks for the run, Sam.”

“Anytime you’re in the neighborhood, Rogers,” the man, Sam, said, giving Steve a small salute.

---

The gentle hum of the radio in the background was the only thing that kept Wanda from feeling the need to break the silence between her and Steve. After she explained the mission plan and objective, the two fell silent as they drove along steadily toward the rendezvous point. Wanda glanced over at Steve as he flipped through a small black notebook. Curiosity got the best of her, and she asked what it was for.

“There’s a lot you miss when you spend decades in the ice,” Steve chuckled lightly. “I’m trying to use this to keep up with all the recommendations I’ve been getting.”

“I see. Well I recommend you watch the Dick Van Dyke show. It’s black and white so it shouldn’t be too big of a shock for you. You’ve missed a lot of great TV sit-coms since you’ve been under,” Wanda explained, hoping that she hadn’t overstepped. She watched as Steve pulled a pencil from his pocket and carefully added the show to his list. Reassured by this, she continued, “I...I used to watch them with my family.”

“Used to? Not anymore?”

“Well...my parents passed a long time ago and a few months back my brother went missing after a failed mission,” Wanda explained, surprised by her willingness to share. She knew of course that he was a good man. He was America’s Golden Boy after all, but for the first time in a long while she felt comfortable in another person’s presence. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even mentioned her parents aloud to someone. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve put simply and Wanda knew that he truly meant it.

“They’re not as fun to watch alone anyways,” Wanda said with a timid smile.

“Maybe you could show them to me sometime...I haven’t really figured out the whole...technology thing yet. I’ve gotten used to people taking care of those things for me. I haven’t exactly had much time to learn.”

“Maybe I could,” Wanda replied, unable to conceal her smile.

---

“Target is a mobile satellite launch platform, the Lemurian Star.”

Wanda tried to stay focused on the mission ahead, attempting to dismiss the significance of it. As part of rehabilitation, she agreed not to use her powers until higher-ups in S.H.I.E.L.D were completely satisfied with her training. The world was changing faster than anyone could imagine and S.H.I.E.L.D was adapting to the world of the enhanced. She herself had been adapting to it too.

“So it’s not off course. It’s trespassing,” Wanada heard Steve remark, turning to look at her. He was clearly still wary of taking orders from S.H.I.E.L.D and although she owed her life to the organization, she understood. She couldn’t imagine it would be easy to take orders from just anyone, especially after war and the Battle of New York following that. After seeing the evils of this world, the evils outside this world, it must be hard to trust anyone.

“I’m sure they had a good reason,” Wanda said looking up at Steve. He simply nodded, turning back to Rumlow who was explaining the details of the assignment. She listened as Steve distributed his instructions to the team. He told her to stall the ship and wait for further instruction. Although she wanted him to trust her, she had been with S.H.I.E.L.D far longer than he had and she was given her own objective. Fury had sent her with this team to collect and download intel and that’s what she would do even if it went against Captain America’s orders. She couldn’t risk jeopardizing her chance of continuing field work. Not this time.

As the carrier reached the drop zone, the team secured communications and Wanda watched in awe as Steve jumped off into the cloudy night sky without a parachute. She put on her gear, took a deep breath and followed after him, with a parachute. Shortly after, Wanda landed near Steve, who had seemingly taken care of many of the pirates already, at the stern of the ship. She headed to the engine room, following Steve’s command. She may have had Fury’s directive to follow, but she wouldn’t risk the lives of the hostages or her team by keeping this ship running any longer. She took out several men, with the instinct and precision that could only come from years of practice. Although she had dreaded this mission, she had to admit that nothing was as exhilarating as being out in the field. She reached the ground floor of the engine room, hurrying over to shut it off so she could move on to the command center where the navigation systems would be; where the computers would be.

Wanda, what’s your status?...Status, Wanda.

A few more of the ship's crew cut her off before she could reach the engine controls. She stunned several of the men with electric batons which she pulled from her tool belt and took care of the rest with brute force. “Engine room secure,” Wanda replied over the comms. She weaved her way from the stern of the ship to the heart, finding the port to the command center through trial and error.

Wanda, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages. Wanda.

Wanda paused for a moment and the thought of turning around briefly crossed her mind. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. If she completed this mission as Fury requested, gathering intel without Steve’s knowledge, she’d be able to take a huge step forward in the search for Pietro. She could be trusted again. But could Romlow protect the hostages on his own? She reasoned that, from what she could remember, the agent was competent enough and he did have the STRIKE team covering his tail. She connected the hard drive that she had been given to the ship's computer system and began to backup the data.

“What are you doing?”

Wanda jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice. She had been caught. She cursed under her breath and looked up from her station. 

“Backing up the hard drive,” she said, hoping that they could drop the conversation there.

“Rumlow needed your help,” Steve declared,”What the hell are you doing here?”

Wanda was taken aback by his tone. She’d only know this man for a few hours and in her book he hadn’t earned the right to reprimand her like a child. She was following orders and she knew what she was doing. She ignored him and continued in her task, knowing she wouldn’t be able to contain her irritation if she responded.

“You’re saving S.H.I.E.L.D intel,” he realized.

“Whatever I can.”

“Our mission is to rescue hostages!” Steve exclaimed.

“No, that’s your mission,” Wanda bit back, disconnecting the drive from the port. Her irritation turned to pure anger. She had spent years dedicating her life to becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, had spent the past few long months training in rehabilitation just to get back to the field and she was not going to be scolded by a man who joined the ranks like it was nothing, barking orders at people. She stood up tall, her face only a few inches from his. “You may be a captain, but you’re not mine.”

Wanda began to storm off when Steve grabbed her by the arm roughly.

“You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

Wanda pulled her arm from his hand and continued on. Suddenly Bartoc came to and hurtled what appeared to be a bomb in their direction. Steve immediately deflected the weapon with his shield, grabbing Wanda by the waist and launching them both through a window into one of the room’s offices. Wanda felt the heat of the explosion and the burst of glass behind them as they hit the ground. She groaned in pain, straightening her back against the wall of the office. Steve glanced over at her, both of them trying to catch their breath.

“That one’s on me,” Wanda conceded, feeling slightly guilty for only minutes ago insulting the man who had just saved her life.

“You’re damn right,” Steve replied, rushing off, leaving Wanda sitting on the floor. In a quick rush of rage exasperation, Wanda set off a blast of energy sending glass shards flying in different directions, knowing that no one would know she had used her power.

Chapter 2 - Trust No One

Wanda stepped into Fury’s office, taking in the view of D.C. It’d been a while since Wanda had been taking daily trips to the Triskelion and for the first time she had truly noticed the beauty of the structure. She walked over to Fury’s desk, where he sat turned toward the many windows, and placed the harddrive from the Lemurian Star onto it. She remained standing, gazing out the windows and wondering if she could one day earn one of the offices on this floor.

“You really got the old man’s star-spangled britches in a twist, Maximoff,” Fury scoffed.

“I was following orders,” Wanda returned.

“Apparently not his. Sit Maximoff, you’re making me tired.” Wanda took a seat in one of the chairs across from him. She looked at Fury with expectant eyes. “I know from experience that you have a problem with authority, but Rogers isn’t going anywhere anytime soon so you better make up or suck it up.” Wanda merely rolled her eyes, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She bit her tongue. She didn’t want to get into it with Fury; she just wanted to know if she had earned her spot back as a field agent.

“About the mission…” Wanda began.

“I know you want to join the search for your brother but frankly I don’t think you’re ready.”

“Is this about what Steve said because I promise you-”

“Maximoff, you and I both know you’ve had a rough couple of months. You can’t expect me to put complete faith in you after one mission, what with the powers and let’s not even start about this temper you’ve developed lately,” Fury answered.

“Sir, you know damn well I’m one of the best agents you’ve got. You’re the one who put me through half of my training!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Fury exclaimed, slamming his palms against his desk. “You’ve scared me half to death these past few months, Wanda. I won’t lose one of my best agents by putting you into the field before I’m absolutely certain you’re ready. And that’s all I have to say about that.”

Wanda turned to walk away before Fury could see the hot tears brimming to her eyes.

“We’re going to find Pietro, Wanda but I won’t risk your life too.”

---

The sun was starting to set in waves of reds and orange as the evening continued on. After leaving the Triskelion, Wanda had planned on going home. She had gotten all the way to her parking spot when she decided she just wasn’t ready to sit in the silence of her lonely apartment. The past few months had been a huge culture shock for Wanda. Despite the tragedy that she had faced, Wanda had always believed that she would never be alone. She wasn’t born alone after all. She was missing a piece of her puzzle. She was incomplete. She often found herself missing those nights when Pietro would come back to their two-bedroom apartment, trying to sneak in some girl as if Wanda wouldn’t be able to figure out what they were doing if only he opened the door oh so carefully, if only he tiptoed through their kitchenette and living room to the back hallway. She missed the times when Pietro would enlist her help to try and win over a girl by having her cook for their date, him pretending that it was all his expert skill. She missed the times when Pietro somehow sensed that she felt homesick for a time that hadn’t been their life for many years, when they would take out her box sets of her favorite sitcoms and stay up until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. Wanda wasn’t built to be alone.

Instead of heading up to her apartment, Wanda grabbed a sweater and her worn out jean jacket from the back seat of the car and nearly started to leave before slipping her S.H.I.E.L.D-issued handgun into an inside pocket of her sweater, just in case. She started her walk, not sure when and where it would end. She felt comfort looking in at the world from the outside. She walked by coffee shops and restaurants, watching the people through the windows. Their warmth radiated out to her as they held their warm drinks and chatted with each other from across tables, sharing stories and complaining about their days.

She stayed in the National Mall area as she continued her walk, watching tourists exiting the museum and admiring the monuments in the warm glow of sundown. She finally grew tired of walking and found a solitary spot under a large oak outside the National Museum of American History. For the first time in a long time, she let her tears flow freely, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees. 

The worst part of it all was that she knew Fury was right. Leading any team to search for Pietro was a risk on her part. There was no way that she would be able to separate herself from these emotions that had weighed her down for so long and she hated herself for it. She didn’t know how but she knew with everything she had that Pietro was still out there. But alive doesn’t always mean safe and if he was in good condition on his own somewhere, he would’ve already reached out to her. The more she thought about what Pietro's life might’ve been like the last few months, the more she imagined how hurt he would be when he is finally rescued and the first face that he sees isn’t hers. 

Within her pocket, Wanda’s phone began to buzz. She wiped her eyes with the rough sleeve of her jean jacket and pulled out her phone. With her reflection staring back at her from the dark screen, she realized that it wasn’t her personal phone but a backup burner phone that Fury had given her for emergencies only. Immediately she shot up onto her feet, searching the perimeter for any sign of danger, even looking up to the sky just in case. Never once had Fury used the emergency contact but she carried it with her everywhere, deciding not to risk the chances of one day missing a life or death message. She hadn’t expected that day to be today. Typing in the password, Wanda opened the burner finding only a text with coordinates plainly signed “-F”

--

It looked like any other apartment building on the blocks of D.C, but Wanda knew better. This was the apartment S.H.I.E.L.D had set Steve up in after the Battle of New York. She recognized it from Steve’s file which she had managed to get off Fury a few days prior to the Lemurian Star mission. In Wanda’s book, the building was perfectly nondescript for hiding a famed super-soldier. If only she could remember what damn floor he lived on. 3? 4? Any extra moment spent deliberating could mean life or death. Wanda decided on 4 and set into a sprint up the stairs from the lobby. She hoped that Steve was safe. She couldn’t live with herself if the last words she said to the man were in anger. 

As she approached the fourth floor, she heard the crack of bullets ring out above her. Pulling her handgun from the inside pocket of her sweater, Wanda exited the stairwell on the fourth floor. She headed straight for the apartment she believed the commotion had come from, kicking down the door.

“Mr. Rogers?” Wanda called, holding her gun in Weaver Stance, prepared to fire at a moment's notice. Before she had the chance to listen for a response, her knees buckled beneath her as she laid eyes on a wounded Fury. “Fury, Fury...Nick!”

“Wanda,” Steve started.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTS,” Wanda spoke into her phone before Steve could finish, simultaneously checking Fury’s pulse. 

“Do we have a 20 on the shooter?” the agent on the phone responded.

“Tell him I’m in pursuit,” Steve called out, already moving before Wanda had the chance to think. Wanda placed her gun on the floor, abandoning protocol and placing pressure on Fury’s wounds with her hands. 

“It’s going to be okay, Nick. It’s going to be okay.”

--

Wrapping her arms tight around herself, Wanda stood frozen in shock looking through the window to the operating room as surgeons stitched together the man who she had looked up to for more than half of her life. She didn’t move, didn’t even shift her eyes from Fury as she felt a figure come to stand beside her.

“Is he going to make it?” Steve asked, nearly out of breath.

“I..I don’t...I don’t know,” Wanda replied, looking up into Steve’s eyes, feeling the tears starting to brim on her own. She glanced away quickly, shifting her eyes to the floor. Wanda felt the hesitant touch of Steve’s strong hand as he placed it on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Tell me about the shooter,” she said flatly, looking up once again.

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

“A metal arm…” Wanda murmured under her breath, Steve’s comment striking a nerve. Another set of footsteps began to approach and Wanda broke her stare to see Commander Maria Hill. “Ballistics?” Wanda asked her immediately, maintaining her monotone, trying her best not to break.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable.”

“Soviet-made,” Wanda replied, recognizing the eerie pattern. 

Suddenly, the monitors within the operating room began their alarm. Wanda stood speechless, gripping onto the edge of the viewing window so hard her knuckles were white. 

Don’t do this to me, Nick

’Pulse? Negative!

Don’t do this to me, Nick. Don’t do this to me.

Time of death, 1:03a.m 

Chapter 3 - On the Run

Wanda stood silently, staring down at her mentor, her leader, her family. A cool numbness radiated throughout her body. She knew better than anyone how life could change in a matter of minutes. Still, it seemed like her heart continued to split into more and more pieces. From her grief, anger began to rise, directing itself at the presence behind her. Steve had been the last person to see Fury alive. If Fury knew he was in danger then why had he gone to Steve and not her? 

“I need to take him.”

Wanda jumped at the sound of Maria’s voice, breaking the whirlpool of her thoughts. She gripped the metal of the gurney tightly, bending over to take a deep breath before placing her hand lightly on Fury’s forehead. Keeping her composure, Wanda took a final look at Fury’s face.

“Wanda,” Steve called lightly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Resentment rose within her again, and Wanda stormed off, shrugging away from Steve’s touch.

“Wanda!” Steve repeated, falling her into the hall.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Wanda bit back.

“I don’t know.”

After years of training and increased intuition from her powers, Wanda recognized a liar faster than any agent she knew but she wouldn’t need any of that to recognize that Steve was hiding something, something big. Maybe she hadn’t given him much reason to trust her, but if it had something to do with Fury then it had everything to do with her. Before she could respond, Wanda saw Agent Rumlow approaching from down the hall. 

“Cap, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D,” Rumlow interjected.

“Yeah, give me a second.”

“They want you now.”

“Okay,” Steve responded sharply, turning back to Wanda expectantly. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Wanda sneered, letting her tears flow freely and tilting her head indignantly up at him. “Why don’t you go save the day and leave me alone.” 

Before she reached the end of the hallway where the elevator was, Wanda felt her phone ping inside her pocket and stopped against the nearest wall to check. She didn’t get a chance to check the message before something caught her. Down the hall where she had been only moments before, Steve was messing with a vending machine that had seemingly been under repair. To make sure he hadn’t seen her watching him, Wanda ducked down the nearest hallway waiting until she figured Steve had continued on. Peeking her head back into the main hallway, she saw Steve turning at the other end of the hall. She walked all the way back down, stopping in front of the vending machine. 

It took her a moment before she caught what was out of place. Hidden behind two packs of bubblegum, the silver edge of a thumb drive peeked through. Looking around first to make sure she wasn’t seen, Wanda focused her mind on the thumb drive guarding it out of it’s spot with the swipe of her hands in the air and knocking the packs of gum to the bottom of the machine in the process. She pocketed both the drive and the gum, spotting a bench down the hall where she could wait for Steve’s return.

---

It hadn’t been long before Wanda was woken from a light sleep with a constant vibration of her phone. She pulled it from her pocket and opened it to see an active alert from S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was now a fugitive from S.H.I.E.L.D. Wanda had had her fair share of issues with the man within the past few days but he was hardly a criminal. Although it was hard for her to accept, Fury had clearly trusted Steve in his final moments. From her peripheral, Wanda spotted a tall figure sneaking down the hall in a dark blue hoodie. She stood up, placing her phone back in her pocket as the figure approached the vending machine. 

“You look rough,” Wanda remarked from behind Steve, chewing a piece of gum. Steve turned to face her. Wanda expected him to ask about the drive but suddenly he grabbed onto her arm roughly, for a second time in two days, and dragged her into what she assumed was a break room, letting her back hit the wall painfully.

“Where is it?” Steve demanded.

“Safe.”

“Do better,” he challenged.

“Where did you get it?” Wanda pushed.

“Why would I tell you?”

Wanda scoffed. “Fury gave it to you. Why?” she questioned, barely trying to conceal her hurt.

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda huffed.

“Stop lying!” Steve yelled, shaking her with a tight grip on both of her arms.

“You wanna talk to me about lying? You’re the fugitive!” she cried in disbelief. She was many things but she wasn’t a liar. He wanted the truth and she had given it. Plus, she hadn’t had any time to check the drive anyway. She didn’t want to risk missing him come back for it.

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

“We’re still on that?” Wanda jeered. “Well...it makes sense! The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

“I’m not gonna ask you again!” Steve threatened, pushing her into the wall once more.

“I know who killed Fury,” Wanda confessed, knowing it would shut him up. It had clicked for her back at the operating room. The soviet slugs, the metal arm. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists,” Wanda continued. “The ones who do call him the Winter soldier...he’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.”

“So he’s a ghost story,” Steve retorted, finally letting up.

“Five years ago, one of my first missions, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went strong over a cliff,” Wanda recalled shakily, Steve’s stare boring into her. “I pulled us out. But the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him, straight through me.” She finished, pulling up the edge of her shirt to show Steve the wound. “Soviet slug. No rifling. Just like Maria said. Bye Bye Bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.”

Wanda couldn’t help but blush, hiding it with a smirk. So that’s how it was.

“Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried,” she added. “Like you said, he’s a ghost story.” Wanda finished, handing Steve the drive. She figured the two of them were finally on common ground. Although, she wasn’t about to let him out of her sight. He grabbed in lightly from her hand, missing all the force he had used only moments ago.

“Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants.”

---

After a quick stop back at Wanda’s apartment to pick up some other disguise pieces, Wanda guided Steve through the mall in a brisk walk heading towards the electronics outlet. It was a strange feeling for her to be running away from S.H.I.E.L.D rather than towards it. Grabbing him by the arm, Wanda directed Steve into the store and headed straight for the laptop.

“The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up S.H.I.E.L.D will know exactly where we are,” Wanda explained, feeling the urgency tighten in her chest. She’d never confess it but even after all her time in the agency, working under time constraints made her nauseous.

“How much time will we have?” Steve questioned, keeping a consistent scan on their perimeter.

“About nine minutes from...now,” Wanda replied, plugging the drive into the laptop she had been fiddling with. She scanned through the files until ‘Lemurian Star’ caught her eye. The file brought the satellite intel that she had downloaded off the ship. “Fury was right about that ship,” Wanda declared, trying to keep her voice steady. “Somebody’s trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI. It keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands.”

“Can you override it?”

“The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me,” Wanda confessed, playing tug-of-war with the system. “Slightly.” She knew it couldn't be more than a few minutes before a whole team would be making their way towards the store. Typing faster, she tried her best to pick up the speed, her heartbeat doing the same. “I’m going to try running a tracer.” When Steve gave her a confused glance she continued, “This is a program that S.H.I.E.L.D developed to track hostile malware, so if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.”

“Can I help you guys with anything?”

Wanda jumped, quickly straightening herself back up again when she realized it was only an employee, not a STRIKE agent. They would need a cover. She glanced at Steve who had taken on a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Cursing herself silently, she went with the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, no. My fiance was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations,” Wanda explained, putting on her best airhead voice and giving Steve an affectionate shake of the shoulders. 

“Right...we’re getting married,” Steve added with a goofy smile. Wanda concealed a laugh. He may have been a good fighter, but he wasn’t much of an actor. She returned back to the laptop, trying to get a read on the location of the file.

“Congratulations,” the employee beamed, “Where are you guys thinking about going?” Wanda grimaced as Steve looked over her shoulder at the location.

“New Jersey,” he replied.

“Oh,” the employee nodded, clearly trying to hide his confusion. Nothing says romance like spray tans and hoagies. There was a brief pause and Wanda looked up at the pair of men. The employee was staring at Steve now, seemingly deep in thought. Shit. They did not need to be slowed down by a Captain America fanboy.

“I have the exact same glasses,” he finally added. Wanda released the breath she had been holding.

“Wow, you two are practically twins,” she remarked, returning her focus to the screen.

“Yeah, I wish,” the man said, admiring Steve. “Specimen,” he added. “If you guys need anything, I’ve been Aaron.”

“Thank you.” As Aaron walked away, Steve checked his watch. “You said nine minutes, come on,” he urged.

“Relax,” she cooed, trying not to feed off his nerves. She almost had everything they needed anyway. “Got it.” Steve leaned in as the location narrowed itself. “You know it?” Wanda asked, picking up on his surprise.

“I used to,” he replied grimly. “Let’s go.” He grabbed the drive from the port and started walking quickly. Now that they had the location, she felt oddly safe. Maybe Steve was worth having around. Even if he had been upset with her, Wanda knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. 

They returned to their brisk walking pace as Steve tried to covertly get a run down of what they were facing. Wanda had noticed the darkly dressed men and women who were trying a little too hard to blend in. It was ironic how only days ago they had been her allies but now her enemies. 

“Standard tac team,” Steve analyzed. “Two behind, two across and two coming right at us. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro.” Wanda’s eyes widened. She had a distraction in mind but she didn’t appreciate where her instincts were taking her today.

“Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said,” Wanda commanded curtly.

“What?”

“Do it,” she pressed. He put a warm arm around her, letting out a chuckle. She tried not to take note of it, but after months of being alone, the gentle contact made her feel content, if only for a moment. Steve wasn’t such terrible company. When she saw the dark boots of the agent pass by, she lifted her head once again, watching for the next threat. Steve kept his arm around as he scanned. They rounded a corner and took the escalator heading downward to the lower floor. Wanda spotted Rumlow heading up the escalator opposite to them and immediately spun around to face Steve. She gulped as a pit formed in her stomach. If they didn’t want to get caught she would have to act quickly but at this point she was probably crossing a line. She’d rather be embarrassed and alive than comfortable and dead.

“Kiss me,” Wanda demanded.

“What?”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she explained, calling back to her training.

“Yes, they do,” Steve pressed. Quickly, she grabbed the sides of his face with her hands and pressed her lips to his. They didn’t have any more time to deliberate. Steve placed his hands on her waist in response and she figured that they looked like any other couple being a little too touchy in the mall. Wanda held their position until she felt the other escalator had traveled far enough ahead for Rumlow to be heading through the next floor. She let go of Steve and turned to take the next few steps down the escalator, hiding a blush. 

--- 

They were travelling down a rural road, when Wanda caught sight of the bright blue signing welcoming them to the state of New Jersey. She was fairly surprised at the scenery the state had to offer. It was the Garden State after all, but she hadn’t been away from the city well, ever. In all the years since her and Pietro had been taken to New York, she hadn’t even really considered leaving. It’s not like she’d had many vacations growing up with her parents working to stay afloat but the thought still surprised her. It may not have been much but she wished Pietro was here now to see it. 

Wanda glanced over at Steve in the driver’s seat. They hadn’t said much since getting out of the mall. They had made their way out and into the corresponding garage, where Steve had hotwired the blue pickup they were now travelling in.

“Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?” she said, breaking the silence and her stare at the forest outside. 

“Nazi Germany,” he replied with a smirk. She gave a little hum, remembering that the man sitting beside her was technically old enough to be her grandfather. “And we’re borrowing,” he added. Wanda’s mind returned to the mall.

“Look...I, um, hope I didn’t cross any lines back there,” she alluded, looking down at her hands in her lap. Steve merely kept his gaze on the road ahead. “I mean with uh, kissing you and stuff,” she continued, grimacing but unable to bring herself back. “In training we’re taught to-”

“It’s okay Wanda, really,” Steve returned kindly. He gave her a forgiving look and although she would still be embarrassed she at least felt at ease.

“Was that...was that your first kiss since 1945?” she couldn’t help but ask, biting back a laugh.

“That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that!” she giggled.

“Well, it kinda sounds like that’s what you’re saying,” he insisted teasingly. 

“No, I didn’t. I just wondered how much...practice you’ve had,” she said, full on laughing.

“You don’t need practice!”

“Everybody needs practice.”

“It was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, I’m not dead,” he conceded. A comfortable silence returned for a moment.

“Nobody special, though?” she asked, realizing for the first time just how lonely he must be. He scoffed.

“Believe it or not, it’s kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience.”

Wanda didn’t know what to say to that. Since she met him all she could think about was Captain America, the hero but she hadn’t really thought about Steve Rogers. When he went home at the end of the day, he was alone. The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D, they couldn’t be family to him. His family was long gone. Just like hers. Maybe they had more in common than she’d thought. What without word from Pietro and Fury gone, who did she have? She regretted being so rude to Steve. It was selfish, really. She had been so mad at him because he had no idea what she was fighting for, what she was going through, when all the time she hadn’t even considered what had happened to him. They were both just two lonely people, left with so much power and yet no one left to fight for.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said simply, “for the way I acted. You didn’t deserve it.”

“You know, it’s kind of hard to trust someone, when you don’t know who that someone really is.”

“Who do you want me to be?” she considered.

“How about a friend?” he replied, looking deep into her eyes.

“I could do that,” she said nodding, unable to help the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter 4 -  Out of Time

It wasn’t long before they arrived at a decrepit, seemingly abandoned military base camp. Wanda stepped out of the car with her tracker, trying to make sure this was the right place. The camp was enclosed by a rusty wire fence, the structures inside crumbling with their last coat of paint  peeling away. It was difficult for her to imagine Steve being there back when the place was still in its prime. It was hard to imagine the place ever being in good shape.

“This is it,” Steve acknowledged, though not confidently.

“The file came from these coordinates,” Wanda replied, shrugging.

“So did I.”

Next to several faded stop signs posted on the front gate, there was a sign disclosing the name of the camp. Camp Leigh, U.S. Army Restricted Area. The place was giving Wanda the creeps. It wasn’t a large camp but she never understood how people could just abandon places.

As they explored the camp, Wanda scanned for the source of the file, it grew dark and a cool breeze passed through the night air. The sounds of animals in the surrounding forest only made the eerie atmosphere all the more frightening. 

“This camp is where I trained,” Steve had explained. The concerned look on Steve’s face made Wanda feel even more uneasy. It startled her how quickly he had become a foundation for her and if he was taken aback by this place then he must have felt the same as her. Not to mention this place had once been all he knew.

“Change much?” Wanda inquired, unable to hide the chill running through her. Steve peeled off his jacket and tossed it over to her gently. 

“A little,” he replied wearily. She wasn’t sure if he was frightened or just sad, but it looked as if he was seeing a ghost. Wanda pulled on his jacket, feeling ridiculous about how large it was on her. She kept in good shape but not enough to keep up with a super-soldier. Wrapping her arms around herself, Wanda gave Steve some space and circled back to some of the buildings they had already scanned through. A little while later, Wanda caught back up with Steve who had taken a seat on the steps leading up to one of the barracks, staring down at his feet.

“This is a dead end,” Wanda called out, putting away the scanner and taking a seat next to Steve on the steps, “Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off.” He merely nodded, looking up from the step where he was fiddling with a few pebbles. As he looked up he seemed to catch on to something in the distance. 

“What is it?” Wanda asked. Steve stood up, offering her his hand to help her. Once she was on her feet, he began walking quickly towards a bunker she had been past on her last walkthrough. 

“Army regulations forbid storing munitions within 500 feet of the barracks,” Steve explained, “This building’s in the wrong place.” If they hadn’t been together, Wanda would have given up. He was useful, she’d give him that. With his shield, Steve smashed the padlock on the entrance to the bunker, allowing them passage. The entrance led straight to a flight of stairs heading downward. When they reached what appeared to be the main floor, Wanda dragged her hand along the walls searching for a power switch. She assumed that because the file had come from the bunker recently enough to get a location, that there would still be electricity down there. Only a few minutes later, Wanda found a switch and when she flipped it, the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling sputtered to life revealing a S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem adorned on the far wall.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D,” Wanda gaped.

“Maybe where it started,” Steve returned, taking in the office set up around them. Wanda strided over to the main wall and traced the eagle logo with a few of her fingers. To be part of something like S.H.I.E.L.D meant more to her than she could ever express to another human being, even Pietro. She was part of something bigger than herself, something important. Looking over at Steve, she hoped that one day she’d be remembered for all the good that she had done, just like him. A hero.

Side by side, they entered what was once, Wanda assumed, the mail room for the HQ.

“Tony Stark’s father,” Wanda marveled at the framed black and white portraits sitting crooked on the wall still after all those years.

“Howard.”

 Another man and woman adorned the opposite sides of Howard Stark.

“Who’s the girl?” asked Wanda. She watched Steve eye the portrait thoughtfully, waiting for his answer but instead, with one last glance, he moved on. Not wanting to push, Wanda did the same.

“If you’re already working in a secret office,” Steve called out, beginning to pull on one of the mail shelves, “why do you need to hide the elevator?” Wanda stared forward at the steel double doors. Working with S.H.I.E.L.D for years meant that Wanda had seen a lot of odd things, but somehow this seemed like something out of an old spy movie. She supposed those tropes had to have come from somewhere. Next to the double doors, she noticed a keypad. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the scanner which then identified the most used keys until they could configure a pattern. Carefully, hoping there wasn’t a failsafe, Wanda entered the codes until the elevator doors glided open with a ding. Steve gave her a brief reassuring glance before leading the way into the elevator.

When they reached the bottom floor, they were met with complete darkness. As they cautiously walked forward, the elevator doors shut behind them. It didn’t look to Wanda like there was any going back now. The unnerving atmosphere she had felt outside seemed to walk in with them. For a brief moment, she considered using her powers to shine some light, a trick she learned one night during a big storm, when the power had been knocked out in her apartment building. It seemed like every few weeks she discovered a new hidden talent. But she wasn’t sure if it was the right time to share it with Steve. It was a secret she hadn’t realized she was keeping but it almost felt wrong to reveal it. Plus, she wasn’t completely sure how much more helpful she could be. Or how much more harmful she could be for that matter.

The only source of light in the room seemed to be coming from several computers at the center of it and as they approached, overhead lights groaned to life above them. Something knew they were there, Wanda realized. With the lights fully on, she could see they were surrounded by various outdated computer systems. Several of the monitors almost seemed to be staring.

“This can’t be the data point,” Wanda said in disbelief. “This technology is ancient.” She glanced back at Steve, giving an uncertain chuckle. Before she could suggest they find a way out of there, Wanda noticed a port fit for USBs, which stuck out like a fish out of water amongst the other machines. She hesitated, holding the drive Fury had protected above the dock. Giving a glance back to Steve, she inserted the drive and the machines around them flickered. More overhead lights revealed rows and rows of ancient computers.

‘Initiate System?’ a robotic voice called out to them. Steve looked just as scared as Wanda felt, so she took the lead for the both of them and stepped up to the main monitor. She typed out yes and took a step back, waiting. The noise of the systems firing around them filled the room. Bright green pixels snaked across the main monitor, forming what was unmistakably some sort of face.

‘Rogers, Steven,’ it spoke in an accented voice, ‘Born 1918.’ They both watched as a camera traced a path from Steve to Wanda. ‘Maximoff, Wanda, born 1989.’

   “It’s some kind of recording,” Wanda mumbled, fiddling with her hands. She didn’t like how it was watching them. It was too uncanny.

‘I am not a recording, Fraeulein,’ the computer called back, causing Wanda to jump. So it was listening too. 

‘I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945. But I am.’

She looked at the face presented at the screen and then back at Steve. Wanda wanted to leave more and more by the second.

“Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He’s been dead for years,” Steve explained, snaking around the system.

‘First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body. My mind, however, that was worth saving, on 200 feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain.”

“How did you get here?” Steve demanded.

‘Invited.’

Wanda didn’t like the sound of that. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together in her brain. She thought back to what she had learned about S.H.I.E.L.D. Of course there was no S.H.I.E.L.D history 101, but she had listened to Fury’s retelling of early S.H.I.E.L.D operations more than Pietro ever had. It almost became like a game for her, to see how much Fury was willing to tell.

“It was Operation Paperclip after World War II,” Wanda recalled, “S.H.I.E.L.D recruited German scientists with strategic value.” Although this wasn’t what she had envisioned when Fury had described it to her. The operation seemed noble, like an outreach between countries but this, this seemed malignant.

‘They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own.’ The pit in Wanda’s stomach grew as Zola continued on.

“Hydra died with the Red Skull,” Steve asserted. Another story Wanda had only ever overheard. But that seemed ancient and now, it was happening right in front of her. There was no way anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D had known about this. They would've torn down this place years ago.

‘Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.’

“Prove it,” Steve challenged.

‘Accessing archive’

Wanda watched in horror at the presentation that Zola had splayed across the screen. He, it continued its explanation on Hydra and its revival within S.H.I.E.L.D. With every new piece of information Wanda shook her head more. She couldn’t possibly believe that something like this could’ve caused this much destruction, this much pain, and gone on for so long under the nose of the organization she owed her life to.

“That’s impossible! S.H.I.E.L.D would have stopped you!” Wanda cried as images of the Winter Soldier splashed across the screen.

‘Accidents will happen.’

At the sight of a news article depicting Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths and the following image of Fury’s S.H.I.E.L.D identification photos with the word “deceased” crudely written across it, Wanda turned suddenly clutching her stomach. She was going to be sick. Everything that she had known, everything she had done, was only a stepping stone for the evils of this world to take over. 

‘Once the purification process is complete, Hydra’s new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life. A zero sum.’

At that, Steve launchd his bare fist against the monitor, shattering the screen to pieces. Immediately, Zola formed again on a smaller monitor.

“What’s on this drive?” Steve roared, slipping a protective arm around Wanda to keep her steady. The room was beginning to spin around her. She could barely hear Zola now over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

‘Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear.’

Wanda’s head snapped up to Steve as panic fully filled her. Heavy metal doors closed shut around the elevator they had entered from. Steve tried and failed to keep them open by throwing his shield which simply ricocheted back towards them. A steady beeping began to sound from Wanda’s pocket and she pulled out her scanner.

“Short range ballistic. 30 seconds tops,” Wanda stammered, trying to steady herself. Think Wanda, think.

“Who fired it?” he implored.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.”

‘I’m afraid I have been stalling, Captain. Admit it. It’s better this way. We are, both of us, out of time.’

Wanda snatched the drive out of the dock and ran over to Steve as he pulled a grate out of the floor. As Steve grabbed her around the waist, she faced the opposite direction, imagined it and created a force field of wispy scarlet energy around them. Steve dragged both of them down below the floors as the blast went off, crumbling the building to bits around them and Wanda held on with all her force to keep them from getting crushed. The ricochet of debris off the power field subsided as Wanda’s vision went black.

‘Wanda, Wanda! It’s going to go off, we have to go! It’ll kill us, Wanda! Sestra!’

Chapter 5 - Stitches

When Wanda woke, kicking and screaming, she found herself enveloped tightly in Steve’s arms. 

“We’re out Wanda! You’re okay!” Steve consoled her, “We’re almost back to the car. You’re going to be okay.”

It took her a few moments to remember where they were; what they had learned. When the darkness hit her, she could’ve sworn she was back in that smoldering apartment building, clutching onto her brother. She may have lived it night after night for many years but every time the terror filled her like it was brand new. And maybe it was. Maybe it did only get worse. 

“Breathe Wanda, breathe,” Steve murmured. Wanda looked up at him, his face covered in soot. He looked weathered and beaten down. She could only imagine how she looked. There was a warm feeling travelling towards her left eye and as she reached to touch she found dark rivulets of blood coming from her forehead. Wanda reached up to grip Steve’s shoulder and nestled herself further into his chest.

When they reached the car, Steve placed Wanda carefully into the passenger seat, taking off what was left of his hoodie to ball it up and press it to her forehead. As he started to leave, Wanda grabbed on to his hand. She didn’t know what she could say or what to think, she just gripped his hand tightly, not wanting to let go, to be alone. He crouched down by the side of the car, wrapping his other hand around both of theirs and squeezing gently.

“Where will we go?” Wanda quavered, her tears creating lines on her ash covered face. There was a brief silence as the wind travelled through the night air, filling the space between them.

“We’ve got a friend.”

---

By the time they reached Sam’s front door, daylight had broken again. Steve knocked while Wanda kept herself steady against him. They drove straight through the rest of the night, not knowing how closely they might be tracked. Steve had told Wanda about the jets and the team of agents that had come looking for them as he carried her from what was left of the bunker.

“Hey, man,” Sam greeted cautiously.

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve confessed, “We need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Wanda added grimly.

“Not everyone.”

---

Wanda stepped out of the shower, steam swirling around her as she covered her goosebump-ridden skin with a clean, fluffy towel. Sam was kind enough to let both her and Steve get themselves cleaned up. Steve had taken the shower in Sam’s en suite bathroom while she had taken the one connected to the small guest bedroom. Taking the showerhead from its position on the wall, Wanda rinsed the rest of the ash and blood down the drain, making sure not to leave Sam’s bathroom dirty. She walked over to the mirror, wiped the steam off with a towel and stared at her reflection, specifically eyeing the large wound on her forehead. Sam was also kind enough to provide her with everything she needed for a stitch job, sterilized needle at all. She picked up the needle, spun it around in her hand and placed it back down into the medical kit.

It was on those warm October nights that her mother had taught her to sew. Even though she was coming home from long hours of work, she would come through the door presenting whatever fabric she was able to get from surplus to Wanda. They sat together under the warm lamp light and sewed small dresses or blouses. Sometimes, when she was able to get her hands on it, her mother would bring home felt and cotton to make little dolls or stuffed animals. Long gone now, Wanda could still remember all the names she had given to the toys they made together. She swore she could still smell the scent of her mother’s lavender perfume.

Bracing herself, Wanda picked up the needle once more, hesitating at the edge of the wound before pushing the needle into her skin. When the wound was sutured shut, she carefully placed a long, thin bandage over it, cleaned up and packaged the kit. After returning the kit to the medicine cabinet where she had watched Sam grab it from, she stood in front of the mirror once again, her hands gripping the counter, her upper body leaned toward the mirror.

She knew that there was no point in fighting her emotions. She knew that there were just times that you couldn’t help but react the way you did. She knew that anyone would be absolutely terrified to nearly be blown to pieces. But still, she was ashamed. And she was ashamed that she was ashamed. She hadn’t wanted Steve to see her like that. She hadn’t ever wanted anyone to see her like that. 

And now her secret was out. There was no denying that her power had managed to keep them alive but she didn’t know if she could even do it again. Even though it had saved their lives, now more than ever she wished that she could just be normal. Surely she was tough enough to fight her way through without any special help.

And what were they going to do now? The ground had crumbled from beneath her feet once again. Everything she had known for more than a decade was a lie. She supposed at least if there was anything she knew how to do, it was to adapt.

Wanda pulled on her wrinkled black tank and dust covered jeans and made her way out of the bathroom. Looking up from drying her hair with a towel, she was startled to see Steve sitting there on the twin bed. She turned to head back into the bathroom when Steve called out to her.

“You okay?” he asked, a look of pity in his eyes. She felt her cheeks burn and she almost snapped at him. She didn’t want anybody's pity. But they had been through more in the past few days together than she had been through with anyone but Pietro. Maybe it wasn’t pity but empathy. And so what if he had seen her break down? She had saved their lives after all and if that wasn’t tough then she didn’t know what was. But maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be tough for him.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the twin bed across from him. Wanda walked over to the bed and sat, looking down at the towel she gripped tightly in her arms. “What’s going on?” Steve asked, seeing through her. He leaned closer to her, looking into her eyes.

“It’s just that...S.H.I.E.L.D...they saved me. I don’t understand how this could be real,” she confessed, flicking her eyes up to meet his gaze. He nodded and when he didn’t respond, Wanda continued, “When I was younger, my parents were killed in a bombing. It nearly took out our whole apartment building but my twin brother, Pietro and I were able to make it out after S.H.I.E.L.D agents came to inspect the incident,” she explained. The rest continued to pour out, her life in a foster care system connected to S.H.I.E.L.D, her training, her time as an agent, even up to the Sokovia mission and her powers. Whenever she hesitated, he simply nodded reassuringly, waiting for her to continue and when he was confused, he asked her to explain and then gave her the space to continue. A weight was finally lifted from Wanda’s shoulders. She had never told anyone else all that she had told Steve.

“I owe you. For pulling me out of there,” Wanda vowed.

“It’s okay. Plus, I couldn’t have pulled you out if you hadn’t saved me first. I’d say we’re even on that,” he replied with a light chuckle.

“Well, you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing,” Wanda remarked, hoping she had given him the space to talk if he needed.

“Well I guess I just like to know who I’m fighting,” Steve answered, leaning back against the wall with a smirk. They held each other's eyes for a moment, until Wanda broke their stare.

“I made breakfast,” Sam called, entering the doorway, “If you guys eat that sort of thing.”

---

“So, the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D could launch a domestic missile strike?” Wanda posed as Sam scraped scrambled eggs onto her plate. “By any chance, do you happen to have some paprika?” she whispered to Sam. He placed a bottle of the spice on the table and gave her a wink. She closed her hands together in a silent thank you.

“Pierce,” Steve answered.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” Wanda groaned in between a bite of toast. Steve chuckled at her crumb-covered face and she blushed.

“But he’s not working alone,” Steve continued, “Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“So was Jasper Sitwell,” Wanda recognized, recalling his name from the list of hostages. Steve looked over to her, seeming to make the connection.

“So, the real question is, how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is, you don’t,” Sam replied, walking over to place something in front of them on the table.

“What’s this?” Steve inquired.

“Call it a resume,” Sam answered. Steve grabbed the file off the table and Wanda stood from her chair to look at it over Steve’s shoulder.

“Is this Bakhmala?” Wanda wondered, “The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you? You didn’t tell me he was a pararescue.” 

“Is this Riley?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, looking down at his feet.

“I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use? A stealth chute?”

“No. These,” Sam stated, handing Steve another file.

“I thought you said you were a pilot,” Steve countered.

“I never said pilot.”

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam,” Steve insisted, “You got out for a good reason.”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in.”

“Where can we get our hands on one of these things?”

“The last one is at Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall.” Steve glanced at Wanda and Wanda shrugged.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You know I think we’re going to need a team name,” Sam called after them as they went to grab their gear. “I don’t know I’m feeling like...Captain America and the Lonely Hearts Club Band or something. The Star Spangled Gang? Nah? Nothing...alright.”

Chapter 6 - The Winter Soldier

Steve and Wanda waited on a deserted rooftop for Sam to catch Sitwell alone. Wanda stood ready, holding a sniper rifle. It was just a threat, but she knew how to use it if she needed to. When she heard Sitwell pick up the phone over Sam’s comm, she aimed her target right at his chest, the red light from her rifle indicating that she was ready to fire. A few minutes later, Sam gave them the cue that he had Sitwell and was heading towards the rendezvous.

“So what exactly can you do with those powers of yours?” Steve questioned playfully as they sat, waiting. 

“To be completely honest, I’m not even really sure,” Wanda admitted. “I can move things with my mind.” She demonstrated, lifting a crate in the air and dropping it down in front of them. 

“You’ve got that force field too.”

“That’s true. That’s all I can really do right now, though and I can’t even do it that well,” Wanda scoffed, looking down at her hands and kicking around some gravel at her feet.

“Seems like you’re doing pretty well to me,” Steve said with a kind smile, grabbing Wanda’s gaze. She couldn’t help but smile back before looking back down at the ground, trying to hide her blush.

“I wanted to apologize…”

“No more apologizing,” Steve cut her off, waving a hand.

“No, seriously. I probably could’ve helped us earlier with my powers but...I was just afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know...I guess...what you would think of me,” Wanda confessed. “Plus, I made a promise to Fury that I wouldn’t use them until we knew what they could do and...well, I guess I just wanted to keep it.”

“It’s okay,” Steve comforted, grabbing Wanda’s hand. She looked up at him and it looked as though he wasn’t sure what else to say. Neither did she.

“I’m dropping off the package,” Sam informed over the comm, “I’ll be waiting outside with the wings.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve called out, dropping his grip on Wanda’s hand. “You stay here and watch for any trouble. I’ll be right back.”

Wanda shook herself back to focus and surveyed the surrounding buildings as well as the streets down below. Through the scope on her rifle, she could see Sam waiting in an alleyway nearby. It wasn’t long before the rooftop door was kicked open, Sitwell thrown roughly to the ground. She rested her weapon carefully on the ground and joined Steve, leering above Sitwell.

“Tell me about Zola’s algorithm,” Steve demanded.

“Never heard of it,” Sitwell replied, getting to his feet then slowly trailing backwards as Wanda and Steve walked towards him.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?” Steve pressed.

“I was throwing up. I get seasick.” Sitwell gasped as he reached the building’s edge, nearly falling right off. Steve grabbed him by his suit coat roughly and hoisted him in the air. “Is this little display supposed to insinuate that you’re going to throw me off the roof?” Sitwell smirked, “because that’s really not your style, Rogers.”

“You’re right,” Steve conceded, grinning. “It’s not,” he added, placing Sitwell back on the roof’s edge and smoothing his coat. “It’s hers.”

At that, Steve moved aside and Wanda reared back and kicked Sitwell square in the gut, sending him hurtling off the side of the building.

“You’re sure we can’t just let him go?” Wanda quipped, the sound of the falling man’s screams filling the air. Steve shook his head and chuckled. The screams got louder as Sam deposited Sitwell back onto the rooftop, landing nearby.

“Zola’s algorithm is a program,” Sitwell began, holding his hands up in surrender as Steve and Wanda approached, “for choosing Insight’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You...a TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange...anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA...now or in the future.”

“In the future? How could it know?”

Sitwell laughed darkly as he continued to explain. The program was able to identify potential threats to HYDRA’s agenda through compiling information, even minute details, scattered across Internet databases and using it to predict future actions. Then, the helicarriers developed for Project Insight, which Fury had told Wanda were meant to protect from serious threats, would eliminate those people. Millions of people could be executed all at once to create HYDRA’s future.

Steve looked over at Wanda grimly, seemingly unsure of their next move. Wanda grabbed Sitwell by the arm and dragged him towards the door.

“C’mon, fellas. We’ve got a package to deliver.”

---

They were piled into the car, Sam driving them down the highway heading towards the Triskelion. Wanda sat in the backseat, her arms crossed against her chest, glaring at Sitwell next to her. He inched closer towards the car door. 

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell called out like an impatient child forced to be on a long car ride. 

“Why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam replied, eyeing him in the rearview mirror.

“Insights launching in 16 hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here,” Wanda cut in, leaning forward so Steve and Sam could hear.

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.” Wanda sat back, satisfied.

“What? Are you crazy?” Sitwell exclaimed, “That is a terrible, terrible idea!” Suddenly, there was a loud thud from the top of the car and a deafening crash as the window parallel to Sitwell was shattered. Before any of them could react, an arm reached through the window and grabbed the man, hurtling him across the highway and straight into a fast moving truck. 

Wanda gaped as she saw the metal arm slink back through the window, gun in hand. She leaped through the front seat directly into Steve’s lap, just as the assailant began shooting through the roof of the car. Holding tight onto Wanda with his other arm, Steve engaged the emergency brake, throwing the man off the car and out onto the road ahead. The attacker stood slowly, and Wanda recognized him immediately. The Winter Soldier. 

Wanda pulled a handgun from leg holster but before she could fire, they were suddenly shot forward as something rammed into them from behind. She glanced over her shoulder to see the large military grade truck that had crushed the back of the car as it continued to accelerate, pushing them forward. The attacker was nearly hit by their car but before he was struck, he managed to flip back on top of the car. Wanda grabbed helplessly for her gun, which had fallen somewhere below the seat, as Sam slammed the brakes. The windshield smashed to pieces with a blaring crash and the steering wheel was ripped straight out of Sam’s hands and lost somewhere to the street outside. Sam cursed as Wanda managed to get a hold of the gun and fire ahead at the soldier.

The truck behind them rammed into the  car once more, knocking it into the guard rails and nearly flipping it over.

“Hold on!” Steve commanded as he placed his S.H.I.E.L.D against the car door. Wanda wrapped her arms around him and Steve pulled Sam from the driver's seat as the car door was ripped from its hinges, sending them scraping across the road. Wanda created the best forcefield that she could manage and tried to slow them down but Sam slipped out of her grasp and rolled back on the road behind them. She screamed but, as the car door stopped it’s travel, she was able to look back and confirm that he was safe, if at least a bit banged up.

Steve stood up and Wanda followed his lead, stepping behind his shield and aiming her gun at the man. Another agent stepped out of the large van and handed the soldier a weapon. Wanda realized what it was and, as a small grenade shot through the air towards them, she tried to stop it but Steve pushed her out of the way before she had the chance. She fell behind a van as Sam managed to catch up with her. She signaled for him to take safety behind another car before beginning to fire at the agents beyond them. As they shot at her, she jumped over the median into the other lanes. The impact of another grenade sent her flying off the elevated highway to the road below. 

She braced for impact before she realized that she was suspended in the air. Wanda opened her eyes and saw that she was surrounded by scarlet wisps of her own power. She laughed in surprise and tried to imagine herself slowly floating to the ground, just like she had done with many everyday objects before. Reminding herself to celebrate that victory later, she ran towards the shadow of the shooter that was casted on the ground in front of her. 

Pulling a second gun from the opposite holster, she managed to at least deter the man from taking out an overturned bus, where she could only assume Steve had landed. He disappeared behind the guard rail for a few moments and Wanda took the opportunity to take cover behind a large truck. When he snapped back up suddenly, he shot straight down where she had been standing before. She was glad she had moved.

Wanda shot back at him, noticing his goggles had been removed. It was scary enough to see him with them on but looking into his eyes made him more horrifying, more human. She continued to weave through the parked cars, hoping to draw him away from Steve. Briefly glancing through windows, windshields and side mirrors, she was able to confirm that he was following. An idea struck and she quickly pulled her work phone from her pocket, turning on a pre-recorded message that could be used as a distraction. She set it near a sedan parked by the curb and took cover across the street, waiting for his attack. 

Without warning, there was a thunderous explosion and she took it as her cue to catch him off guard, using another car as leverage to leap out at him. They tusseled, her legs around his shoulders and garrote around his neck before he threw her to the ground. His gun was aimed at her and in instinct of self defense, she shot out a blast of crimson energy that caused him to drop his weapon. She took the opportunity to run, crying out to pedestrians to clear the way. 

The sound of a bullet cracked through the air and it took Wanda a moment to register that she had been hit. A sort of numbness was replaced by a fiery pain that spread throughout her shoulder. Her heart beating erratically, Wanda took shelter behind a car, applying pressure to her wound. Out of nowhere, the soldier returned and she could’ve sworn she was done for when Steve came charging at him. An intense ringing sound filled the air as the man’s metal fist connected with Steve’s shield.

Steve nearly lost as they fought, leverage being juggled back and forth between them. Sam entered the fight unannounced, knocking Steve’s opponent down with the force of his wings. She couldn’t help with her powers now, not with her shoulder out on commission. Suddenly, her eyes landed on the grenade launcher that the soldier had abandoned and she crawled over to it. She waited for the right opportunity and when the man’s gun was aimed at Steve, she fired.

The sound of sirens filled the air as the three of them were outnumbered by S.H.I.E.L.D emergency vehicles. They put their hands up in surrender as officers approached from every direction.

--- 

“It was him. He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

They were in a prison transport van, handcuffed and surveillanced by guards.

“How is that possible? It was, like, 70 years ago.”

The conversation moved in and out of Wanda’s focus. Her breath was labored and her vision was blurry. Her head lulled from side to side. 

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. The must of found him and...”

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Wanda chimed in, in a moment of coherence. She leaned back, letting her heavy eyelids shut.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out in the truck.”

The crackle of a taser startled Wanda back to focus. She tensed, waiting for the guard to attack. Instead, out her peripheral, she saw the guard attack the one sitting opposite, knocking them out. For a moment, she figured she may be hallucinating until the guard removed their helmet.

“Ah, that was squeezing my brain,” Maria Hill quipped looking at the crew in front of her. Wanda smiled weakly, letting her head fall back once more.

“Who’s this guy?” Maria called out, gesturing towards Sam.

--- 

Steve helped Wanda step down from the back of their escape van and the four of them walked together towards the underground facility, Steve and Sam continuing to guide Wanda through the entrance. 

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint!”

“Maybe two.”

“Let me take her.”

“She’ll want to see him first.”

The last bit of the conversation caught Wanda’s attention. Him? They walked to the end of the tunnel, into a new passageway and down a small flight of stairs. Both Sam and Steve protested delaying her treatment but as Maria moved aside a plastic barrier, she understood why.

“Fury!” Wanda exclaimed.

“About damn time.”

Chapter 7 - Parasite

“Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver and one hell of a headache,” Fury listed out his injuries while Dr. Fine applied pressure to Wanda’s wound.

“Don’t forget your collapsed lung,” the doctor chimed in.

“Let’s not forget that...otherwise, I’m good.”

“They cut you open! Your heart stopped!” Wanda countered. Ten minutes ago she was barely conscious and now she was flooded with emotion. Shock of course, with first being shot and then laying eyes on Fury again, alive no less. Relief to be in safe hands once more and out of the constant danger that they had been in since Fury’s “death.” Exhaustion for the same reason. But most of all, anger. Everywhere she turned she was faced with lies, especially from those she had trusted most in the world.

“Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat per minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him but we found a use for it. And I see your temper doesn’t die with me, Maximoff,” Fury retorted. Steve glanced over at Wanda, meeting her glare.

“Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?” Steve demanded.

“Any attempt on the director’s life had to look successful,” Maria explained.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead,” Fury groaned, “Besides, I wasn’t sure who to trust.” Wanda burst out of her chair, taking the bandage for her wound with her, and stormed off.

“Wanda!” Steve called out from behind her. She ignored him and continued her way down the passage but she was slowed by her loss of blood and Steve managed to catch up to her quickly. “Wanda,” he said again, grabbing her hand. Wanda looked down at her hand in his for a moment before he slowly released it. “What’s going on?”

“I….I-” She wanted to scream and release everything that had been going on in the matter of just a few days. She wanted to run away from all of it, leaving someone else to clean up the mess. She wanted things to be the way they were before. She wanted to be the strong person that she thought she was before the past few days, past few months, took over. If it had been anyone else standing there before her, she may have let it all drown her but Steve moved towards her, minding her shoulder, and wrapped his arms gently around her body. Wanda hesitated for a moment before leaning into the embrace. 

“He didn’t know me, Wanda. He didn’t even know.”

When Wanda let go, she saw the tears streaming down his face. She reached up and wiped them away, settling into his embrace once more.

--- 

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize,” Fury recalled, holding up a picture of Pierce, “He said peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility.” He tossed the picture onto the table. “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues.”

“We have to stop the launch,’’ Wanda cut in, looking over to Steve.

“I don’t think the council’s accepting my calls anymore,” Fury remarked, opening a suitcase with three large computer chips.

“What’s that?”

Maria and Fury updated them on the plan to take out the helicarriers by replacing one of the carrier’s targeting blades with their own. It would be integral for them to replace the chips on each of the carriers or millions of people could die. The plan seemed far too simple for Wanda.

“And maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left…”

“We’re not salvaging anything,” Steve interjected Fury’s explanation. Steve looked over at Wanda and she nodded lightly. “We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D had nothing to do with this.”

“You gave me this mission,” Steve berated, “This is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D’s been compromised. You said so yourself. Hydra grew right under your nose and nobody noticed!”

“Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed,” Fury retorted with a scoff. 

“How many paid the price before you did?”

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes,” Fury admitted.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too? S.H.I.E.L.D, HYDRA, it all goes.” Fury looked to Wanda, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, gently rubbing her shoulder.

“Wanda?”

“He’s right, Nick. It’s over. They both have to go, the parasite and the host. Though, I’m not sure which is which,” Wanda responded, bowing her head. Fury looked over at Maria and she nodded in confirmation. Finally, Fury’s eyes moved to Sam.

“Don’t look at me. I do what he does, just slower,” Sam shook his head.

“Well...it looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain.”

--- 

Wanda nodded at Sam as he passed and he gave her a supportive pat on the back. She approached Steve, who was leaning on the rail of the bridge, deep in thought. Stopping beside him, she mimicked his position.

“So who was he? The Winter Soldier, I mean,” Wanda asked, fiddling with her hands.

“Bucky he was...well, he was my best friend,” Steve recalled, some distant memory seemingly putting a small smile on his face. “He always had my back. Always.” Wanda nodded; she knew the feeling. “I don’t know if you know this about me but I wasn’t always good at winning fights,” he chuckled, “Although, I was good at picking them.” 

“So, what’s changed?” Wanda teased, giving him a playful shove. He gave a shove back before leaning forward and looking out towards the scenery. There was a silence between them as Wanda’s stomach churned. She looked down again picking at the peeling paint of the rails.

“What is it?” Steve questioned, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. She squinted out at the horizon.

“I know we have to do this...I know that, but with S.H.I.E.L.D gone, even HYDRA, how will I ever find my, my...Pietro,” Wanda faltered, turning away.

“Hey,” Steve started, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “When all this is over...I’m not going to leave you here. Not after all this.” Wanda kept her gaze on her hands, twisting a ring on her finger. Steve grabbed both of her hands, catching her attention. “We’re going to find him, Wanda.”

“We?”

“You and me. You and me and Sam. We’re a team now. We’re friends, remember?” She smiled, unclasping their hands.

“Are you going to be taking down HYDRA in that get up?” Wanda quipped.

“No, ma’am. If you’re going to fight a war, you have to wear a uniform.”

Chapter 8 - Not the Only One

The plan was simple enough. Steve, Sam and Maria would break into the Triskelion, inform the other agents on the HYDRA breach, warn them against Project Insight and head to the hangar to replace the carrier’s tracking chips. Wanda would pose as Councilwoman Hawley of the World Security Council with the use of a Photostatic Veil and infiltrate the Council’s meeting. From there, she could upload and release whatever S.H.I.E.L.D/HYDRA files she could get her hands on, if everything went to plan, with Fury’s authorization. 

Wanda stood in the lobby, fiddling with the gold buttons on her navy dress suit. They had sent an agent by the name of May, someone Wanda had known for years, to pick Hawley up from the airport to delay her arrival, giving Wanda a window to get in. She felt naked standing there out in the open but of course not one passerby was able to pick up anything strange, not with the Veil. 

“Councilwoman Hawley, it’s good to see you.” Wanda’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Pierce. He stood in front of her, the other council members trailing a few feet behind and chatting away.

“Same to you of course, Secretary Pierce,” she replied, avoiding a kiss on the cheek by extending her hand to him. The group began to move once more and Wanda strolled along, trying not to stand out. 

“And how was your flight?”

“Lovely,” Wanda responded, clutching her purse, “The ride from the airport, less so.”

“Sadly, S.H.I.E.L.D can’t control everything.” Apparently not. There were a million things Wanda could say to that, but she held her tongue. 

“Including Captain America,” another councilman chimed in. Pierce grimaced but the remark was quickly forgotten as another agent approached.

“This facility is biometrically controlled,” Pierce explained, grabbing a briefcase from the agent. “And these will give you unrestricted access.” Wanda cautiously picked up the tag that Pierce offered. She pinned it on her suit, noticing Pierce watching her carefully. They moved on to the elevators, travelling up to the top floor, where Pierce’s office and the main conference room were located. When they arrived, Pierce poured glasses of champagne and handed them out before starting a toast.

“I know the road hasn’t exactly been smooth, and some of you would have gladly kicked me out of the car along the way. Finally, we’re here. And the world should be grateful.” With the raise of his glass, a voice cut Pierce off from over the building’s intercoms, echoing throughout the immense space.

“Attention all S.H.I.E.L.D agents, this is Steve Rogers. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it’s time you know the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D is not what we thought it was. It’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader.”

Pierce paced the room, snaking his way through the council people, who turned to face him and raised his eyebrows at the accusation. 

“The S.T.R.I.K.E and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control.”

He pulled out his phone, beginning to type. Wanda gazed through the windows separating them from the other offices in the hallway, waiting.

“They shot Nick Fury. And it won’t end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I’m asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

Wanda stood a little taller, more ready than she had ever been. The S.T.R.I.K.E team marched into the room, surrounding the council.

“You smug son of a bitch,” one of the councilmen exclaimed. “Arrest him,” he demanded, gesturing towards Pierce. The nearest agent raised his gun in the direction of the councilman, silencing him.

“I guess I’ve got the floor,” Pierce smirked, placing his hands in his suit pockets. Wanda waited for the right opportunity to intervene as alarms began to sound out near the hangar. Gunfire reverberated hauntingly throughout the building. The harsh sound of metal against metal filled the air as the enormous bay doors ground open outside. Insight’s helicarriers were launching.

“Let me ask you a question,” Pierce began, stepping away from the windows, where there was a staggering view of the commotion erupting outside. “What if Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow and you knew that they were going to drag your daughters into a soccer stadium for execution, and you could stop it with a flick of the switch. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you all?” he questioned, eyeing them.

“Not if it was your switch,” the councilman replied, throwing his glass of champagne, the shatter cutting through the silence. Pierce simply chuckled darkly as the lead agent handed him a gun. He raised it to the man’s head and it was the perfect opportunity for Wanda to step in. She shoved the councilman away from danger, striking her fist square to Pierce’s face and disarmed him. Getting a hold of his gun, Wanda hurtled it into the nearest agent and moved onto the next, taking him out with a knee to the groin and a strike to the head. As another agent moved to aim his gun at her, she used her height advantage to pound his head against the marble flooring. For the rest, she simply blasted the guns out of their hands with her power, pitching them across the room after guiding one into her hand. She kept the handgun aimed at Pierce as she disengaged the Photostatic Veil.

“I’m sorry,” she said, feigning a pout, “did I step on your moment?” Wanda handed the gun to the nearest councilman, walked over to the control system and began typing her way through the program. 

“What are you doing?” one of the other men asked.

“She’s disabling security protocols and dumping all the secrets onto the Internet,” Pierce cut in.

“Including HYDRA’s,” Wanda replied, not bothering to look up from her work.

“And S.H.I.E.L.D’s. You won’t be able to keep those powers a secret anymore, Wanda.” She continued working, though she felt the beat of her heart pick up its pace. “And what about your brother?” Wanda froze, fingers hovering over the keys. “You really think I couldn’t find him if I wanted to?” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying…” he began, taking a step towards her, “I know where to find your brother, Wanda. We could help each other, you and I.”

“You’re bluffing,” she spat, beginning to type again.

“Oh Wanda, you really are just as naive as you’ve always been.” She clenched her fists, preparing to step over and take a hit at him. Instead she stopped, letting the anger dissipate. He was stalling, and she wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of getting to her.

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need your help,” she bit back, returning at full speed to the uploading process. With any luck, Sam and Steve would nearly be done replacing the helicarrier’s chips. Minutes later, Wanda reached a roadblock. To move any further, she would need to break down the higher level encryptions. He needs to get here, now.

Pierce scoffed as he watched the authorization warning pop up on the large screen. “Disabling the encryption is an executive order. It takes two Alpha Level members.”

“Don’t worry. Company’s coming.” It wasn’t long before a helicopter touched down on the floor’s landing pad outside the window. The sound of the chopper shook the room as Fury stepped out of the helicopter and into the entrance outside the office door.

“Did you get my flowers?” Pierce remarked as Fury stalked towards him. “I’m glad you’re here, Nick.”

“Really? Because I thought you had me killed.”

“You know how the game works.”

“So why make me head of S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“Because you were the best, and most ruthless person I ever met.”

Wanda opened up the authorization program, letting Fury have his moment.

“I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick,” Pierce explained. “Disorder. War. It’s just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Sokovia or an EMP fries Chicago.” Wanda felt heat pulsing through her veins. “Diplomacy? A holding action, Nick. A band-aid. And you know where I learned that.” Pierce’s bargaining was helpless, Wanda knew. Fury wouldn’t change his mind. Ever. Still, it made her nauseous to think that such evil existed in the world. And even more so that she had helped it thrive.

Fury cut the conversation short and pulled Pierce over to the screen.

Retinal scanner active.

Wanda took the gun from the councilman, walked over to Pierce and held it only inches from his temple, unflinching. 

“You don’t think we’ve wiped your clearance from the system?” he leered.

“I know you erased my password...probably deleted my retinal scan. But if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary, you need to keep both eyes open.” Fury lifted his eyepatch, revealing his mutilated eye and leaned into the screen. 

Alpha Level confirmed. Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.

An alarm began to blare through the inside of the building, the evacuation alert finally activated. Wanda felt the tension within her chest release as the confirmation alert crossed the screen. She pulled out her phone to find the news already flooded. Suddenly, the council members began to groan in pain as the full access pins that Pierce had provided them disintegrated, burning a gaping hole into their chests. Both Wanda and Fury moved their guns to point at Pierce once more.

“Unless you want a two inch-hole in your sternum, I’d put that gun down. That was armed the moment you pinned it on.” They lowered their guns in defeat. Wanda felt dizzy but kept her gaze firm on Pierce.

From outside, there was a thunderous blast as the three helicarriers, which could be seen hovering in a triangular formation from the expanse of windows, terminated each other. Wanda couldn’t conceal her smile. Sam and Steve were successful. They won.  As much as Wanda wanted Pierce to see justice for what he had done, they hadn’t lost. If she were to die, at least she knew that she had been on the right side of the battle. 

“What a waste,” Pierce hissed. “Time to go, councilwoman. This way. Come on.” He stepped over and grabbed Wanda roughly by the arm. “You’re going to fly me out of here,” he explained, leading her in the direction of the landing pad outside. 

“You know, there was a time I would’ve taken a bullet for you,” Fury sneered.

“You already did,” Pierce snickered. As his attention was turned to Fury, Wanda felt through her pocket, where she recalled stashing some last minute provisions. Her fingers hit a metal disk and she cursed. She knew what she had to do but she didn’t know how badly it might go. To her, having Pierce captured was worth the risk. At least she hoped the distraction may give Fury enough time to attack. Pulling the disk out, she pressed it between her fingers, causing it to release a strong electric current. She felt the intense shake of her body as she struck the ground. The painful spasms rocked through her and there was nothing but a blaring ring in her ears.

“Wanda? Wanda, c’mon!”

She opened her eyes slowly, some feeling starting to return to her limbs. Fury helped her up onto her trembling legs. Wanda nearly tripped over Pierce who was lying on the floor, wounded and muttering incoherently to himself. Fury guided her out the office door, around the corner and out onto the launch pad, where the helicopter sat intact, in spite of all the commotion both outside the building and within. Once they were in, Wanda grabbed a nearby water bottle, half-chugging it, half pouring it into her hands to wipe her face. The cool water on her skin woke her up and they took off, connecting the chopper’s comm system to Steve, Sam and Maria.

Wanda cursed as they watched one of the fallen helicarriers crash into the Triskelion.

“Please tell me you got that chopper in the air,” Sam’s voice broke out of the radio system. 

“Sam, where are you?” Wanda called into the mic.

“41st floor! Northwest corner!”

“We’re on it! Stay where you are!” 

“Not an option!” Seconds later, Wanda caught sight of Sam leaping from one the building’s many windows and out into the air. In response, Fury turned the chopper onto its side and a gust of wind rushed at Wanda as Sam fell into one side of the helicopter and right out the other. She screamed as she felt his hand slip through hers and without a thought, her power casted out to Sam, holding him in place in the air. 

“Get me in! Get me in!” 

Wanda swiftly guided him back to the cabin and he clutched onto her arms tightly.

“41st floor! 41st!”

“It’s not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!”

“God, I could’ve used your magic tricks a little bit sooner,” Sam remarked wearily with heavy breath. She let out a relieved laugh and patted him on the shoulder. With the shock of Sam's fall, she nearly forgot.

“Maria! Where’s Steve? You got a location?” Wanda exclaimed into the mic over the sound of the chopper’s blades and the gradual collapse of the building. Her heartbeat escalated, unable to see any sign of Steve throughout the wreckage. Sam grabbed Wanda’s arm once more and they huddled together in wait.

---

Wanda was awoken by a soft shake of her shoulder. She stretched out her stiff back and rubbed her eyes.

“You’ve been here too long. You need food. You need some real sleep,” Sam urged, handing her a bottle of water. She opened it and took a swig which eased her dry mouth.

“I’m fine,” she replied lightly, running her hands through her hair. “Thank you.” He pulled up a chair next to hers and sat down, beginning to thumb through a magazine. She pulled her phone from her pocket, scrolling through the news. A few moments passed before they were both startled away from their activity. 

“Hey, friend.”

“Steve,” Wanda gasped. 

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Rogers,” chuckled Sam, “back from the dead. A beautiful day indeed.” 

---

A slight breeze blew lightly through the branches of an old oak tree as birds chirped contently. The sizable tree cast a nice shade that protected from the day’s heat. Sam, Steve, Fury and Wanda gathered around Fury’s freshly dug grave. 

“So, you’ve experienced this sort of thing before, Rogers,” Fury mused.

“You get used to it,” Steve smirked. Wanda looked over at him. His golden hair glinted under the light of day and it was refreshing to see him healed; no more stitches.

“We’ve been data mining HYDRA’s files,” Fury explained. “Looks like a lot of rats didn’t go down with the ship. I’m headed to Europe tonight. Wanted to ask if you’d come.”

“There’s something I gotta do first.”

“How about you, Wilson? Could use a man of your abilities.”

“I’m more of a soldier than a spy,” Sam shrugged.

“And Wanda?” 

“Well, uh, I’ve got team duties to attend to now,” Wanda grinned, eyeing Sam and Steve. Fury nodded, a small smile escaping him.

“Alright, then.” Fury gave the two men handshakes before opening his arms to Wanda for a hug. “You keep these boys in line, Maximoff.”

“Will do,” Wanda replied, savoring the embrace.

“If anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me, right here.” He strolled away and was soon out of sight.

Wanda reached into her messenger bag which sat at her hip. She ruffled through a few papers until she found what she was looking for.

“I almost forgot,” Wanda spoke. “That thing you asked for.” She handed Steve a thick, worn out file. He flipped it open and Sam moved closer to see over his shoulder.

“You’re going after him,” Sam sighed.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Steve replied solemnly, looking first at Sam, then towards Wanda.

“I know…When do we start?”

---

They sat in the grass, leaning their backs up against the trunk of the oak. Wanda had kept Steve company as he skimmed through the file. He had long since placed the file on the ground but they sat in a comfortable silence, breathing in the fresh air.

“You know, when I was uploading that intel, Pierce said he knew something...something about Pietro.”

“You think he was telling the truth?” Steve asked, brows furrowed.

“I mean I guess it makes sense. If HYDRA was still alive all this time, who’s to say they weren’t the ones who captured us back in Sokovia?”

“Why keep him hidden then?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Wanda sighed, head in her hands. 

“We’ll find him. You and me and Sam,” Steve replied, wrapping his arm around Wanda. “We’ll find Pietro and we’ll find Bucky.” Wanda nodded, leaning her head on Steve’s shoulder. They sat for a few moments like that, listening to the sounds of the wind, letting their heavy eyes open and close. Wanda sat up and Steve removed his arm, looking up at her curiously. She learned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you...just, thank you.”

He smiled at her then looked down at his hands in his lap. Wanda got to her feet, brushed off her pants and offered a hand to help him up.

“C’mon, Captain. We’ve got a lot to catch you up on.”

[humanemotionssuck]

Hello 2021

January 2, 2021

I should’ve put these thoughts into words on the first day of the year but then again, I felt so lazy given this bed weather we are currently having. By far, I think I experienced the coldest temperature here in my hometown (21 degrees baby) and I’m sure not liking it as I prefer warm days.

I actually do not know how to start. I feel it’s necessary to check on how I am doing lately. Write the things I experienced last year and reflect on the lessons it taught me.

I could probably kick things off by remembering how 2020 started for me. I have a bad memory but I’ll try my best to recall them.

January

Broke up with J (yes this is probably one of the major and heartbreaking events happened to me). To sum it up, I realized that the relationship does not have growth anymore, and I am slowly drifting to follow my own path, which is to focus on the plans I want. I haven’t thought deeply the lessons I learned in my past relationship yet but one thing is for sure, I changed and I want to explore more of what I can do or what I’m missing out in life. Which brings me to attend seminars on how to work/study abroad. I attended a couple (e.g Fortrust Makati) and I also realized how costly it will be and I’m probably not yet ready esp. on the financial aspect.

February – March

Highlight on these months was I got back to dating apps again. I know it was a complete dick move. I haven’t moved on yet and here I am in the pool again. I met 2 guys from this app, Coffee Meets Bagel (which btw I uninstalled few months after). The first guy was the introvert but funny type and also VERY sexual. I got along with it, tried to do the deed but failed cause the guy hasn’t moved on from the ex yet. (Sucks right). And so I met this second guy and he is decent but we really had completely different personality. I believe this guy is also rich (he came from a Chinese family and I went to his house and saw the maid and his stuff). Can you also believe he already introduced me to his mom (no dad cause broken family), uncle and grandma. Pressured si ate gurl syempre cause it was really too early to do that step since we’re just dating but March was the most difficult month because…

START OF LOCKDOWN. PH was in state of panic after the government announced a nationwide lockdown due to increased COVID-19 transmission. I immediately went on a bus to the province fearing to get stuck in Manila.

April

Nah this was just a typical month. Summer vibes all over but since we cannot go to the beach we just setup an inflatable pool in the house to get soaked. I finally posted a pic wearing a swimsuit again. My stagnant IG feed came to life lmao

May

Oh boy. This month sucks so much. I got typhoid fever. Which I thought was COVID already cause my fever just won’t stop. My mom didn’t want me to get admitted in the hospital in the fear of being infected so I was hooked in the IV here in the house. I felt I was dying. I was in huge pain both physically and mentally. Which forced me to end any communication means with the second guy. He was not there when I was sick. I didn’t feel his concern even if we’re miles apart and I felt I was begging for his attention. It just won’t work. He blocked me in his socials (which is a first for me, usually I am the one who blocks lol) but given the current state I have now, I learned to accept it and chose to move forward.

June

Explored options on work/study program abroad. We got a new car (Xpander) which my father was able to purchase after borrowing money from us. That money could’ve been used for my Japan trip on December (plot twist it was cancelled due to fucking corona) but it’s okay I guess I’ll save another again.

I also got my student permit (yes I learned how to drive months after hehe)

July

THIS WAS MY BIGGEST DOWNFALL FOR THIS YEAR. There were some modifications in the quarantine and so my employer required and FORCED us to report on site in Makati despite of high number of positive cases. All I can say is SCREW THEM and I hope karma will do its thing on their business. The management.. the bosses.. they are all inconsiderate fucks for not allowing me to work at home instead. The situation forced me to resign but they chose to terminate me instead. The unemployment took its toll on my mental health, it caused me great depression and anxiety which forced me to look for distractions.. anything that will ease my mind.

Oh and btw, I bought my first laptop from hard earned money. Oh boy, it was satisfying to give myself the things my parents couldn’t afford that time I was still in school. It’s a gaming laptop and the one I’m using to type now. I absolutely love it and I used it to find online jobs later on..

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green again after watching the TV series on Hulu. Geez, this has to be my favorite book so far. The seeking of great perhaps.. which was very timely on my mood while having nothing else to do.

Lastly, TAYLOR SWIFT RELEASED A NEW ALBUM CALLED FOLKLORE. In the middle pandemic? Awesome right and this album kept me sane during this crazy and miserable month. Oh and on December, she released folklore’s sister album.. Evermore. Miss Swift saved me again with her music. This will definitely be one of the albums I will play when I’m old and gray knitting sweaters and wearing cardigan.

August

I started and finished my driving lesson in manual. JFC, I realized driving gives me a huge anxiety. One thing is for sure, I will prefer to drive automatic. Not driving that shit again.

I was still hooked with Looking for Alaska. Also purchased Subtle Art of not Giving a F*ck on the time I bought LFA.

On the other hand, I was also actively looking for new jobs this time.

September

ON SEPT. 30 I GOT HIRED! I was super happy to start on a new job. It gave me hope once again to continue on this journey called life. After almost 3 months, we are def back to business!

I also got the chance to get this Thyroid issue checked. Unfortunately, there was no major stuff going on with my thyroid. Basically, I’m perfectly healthy. What sucks is that the doctor invalidated my previous condition and said I only have ~anxiety which is the cause of my symptoms (excessive sweating and palpitations). I will seek professional help on this anxiety stuff anytime in the future.

Lastly, I played Grand Chase again and met someone in the game. Well technically we haven’t met yet but since then, I got used to talking with this guy and he is part of my daily routine now. I won’t spoil much details but as soon as this is all over, I can’t wait to meet this person :)

*cue Grand Chase soundtrack*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoK0bAjsHoo

October

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE! It was a typical birthday. I don’t have much realizations. If I had one, I need to think thoroughly again lol.

Busy with training on the new job and this has been the most challenging training I ever had since I started working.

NOVEMBER

WORK WORK WORK. Super stressed and my anxiety was on the roof. I thought of giving up already but then again it was too early to quit. I haven’t seen my full potential on this job yet and so I chose to keep on fighting.

I also finally got braces. Let’s get these smiles fixed.

December

WORK WORK WORK AGAIN. My work caused me a huge anxiety cause I was given high priority cases -.-But overall, I can say the holidays went great. I finally got to spend time with the family outside. Don’t worry cause we still practiced precautions and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go out once in a while to have some fresh air. We went to the beach and pretty much that’s the highlight of this month.

Things are getting serious with this guy I’m talking about.. Seriously, he makes me happy every single day.

I also won in Christmas raffle. Oppo phone. (I have the odds in my favor when it comes to raffles lol)

Feels weird to celebrate this holiday too thinking a lot of hardships were experienced in the last few months of quarantine. I was thinking about all the lives lost by covid and hoping they are in the peaceful place now..

JANUARY (NOW)

After everything that happened, oddly the start of the year gives me a sense of hope. Sure I am still carrying the trauma 2020 gave me but I am slowly leaving all of them behind. I want a fresh start and I want to let go of the things that gave me pain. I don’t have solid resolutions just like in my teenage years. Guess I’m too old for that. Not saying it’s okay to not have plans for the future and just go with the flow but I promise to not be too hard on myself and to not pressure myself on the goals I haven’t achieved yet. It’s really a struggle to plan things ahead given the situation but as always, I will do my best. I will stop comparing my progress to somebody else’s cause everyone has their own timeline.

I will listen to my heart and my mind to determine the things I really want. I promise to reevaluate the decisions I am making each day. I will not be afraid of making mistakes because that’s how I learn.

I am embracing my anxiety of uncertainty. It’s okay to feel afraid because I am always trying on how to overcome my fear. I strive each day because I am more than just a ball of anxiety. The palpitations.. the sweating.. they don’t define me. I have the power to control them and they won’t stop me from being the better version of myself.

[softjeon]

Better Together

• Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi x Dancer!Jimin • Genre: Fluff • Words: 9,1k |  ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: a bit of anxiety and nervousness / insecurities

written for the ‘Printed Melodies’ Event @yoonminficrec → Prompt: Yoongi’s rap crew competes at a hip hop competition and Jimin is also there as a competing street dancer.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ “C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes?”

It was useless. He was useless. Why did he even think coming here would be a good idea in the first place. The day had started out bad already and it was proving itself to be the worst day Jimin ever had. First, he almost came too late for the sign ins and now he had forgotten his shoes. The most important item a dancer needed. He had been so nervous, anxiety driven all day and forgetting his shoes had been the last straw he needed to tilt over.

Jimin sobbed, burying his face in the palm of his hands and curled in further into the corner of the locker room he had hid in. There were loud noises outside, people passing but no one bothered to look inside these rooms. They had other things to care about, competitions to win. Closing his eyes, Jimin pulled his knees in and leaned his forehead against the cold wall, trying to count to ten and start again. He would be okay. He could practice the routine without shoes. Try it out a couple of times and see if it works or he could just keep hiding in here. Where no one could find him and sneak out without anyone noticing. They maybe would call out his name a couple of times, but then they would just disqualify him.

That was it.

Jimin gasped when the door suddenly burst open, eyes wide in fear and shock alike. Hand pushed over his mouth to keep from breathing too loudly and not make a noise. He stared at the closed bathroom door in which he had locked himself, seeing shoes walking closer to where the sinks were and Jimin held his breath.

The voices of the people outside were still in Yoongi’s head, bouncing around like a pinball machine, over and over again.

‘Oh, I never heard of you!’

‘Who are you again?’

‘Wait, you are a rapper? You are so small I thought you were one of the background dancers’

‘You must be so nervous to be here’

He had smiled and talked and tried to make connections as he knew he should be while his inner tension rose and rose until it was so close to snapping that he just needed to get out RIGHT ABOUT NOW: He burst through the door of the first empty room he could find, growling out his anger and frustration. “Yes, I’m new and I don’t look like the typical rapper and most of you haven’t heard of me I know that so fucking thank you for reminding me!” He kicked against the bench in the room while having no idea that he wasn’t the only one hiding in here.

Jimin jerked violently, a squeal passing his lips in fright, when the man had kicked out and he pressed his palm a little harder over his mouth. It was silent. Only the heavy panting from the stranger audible. Eyes wide, Jimin tried to push himself as far as he could in the corner of the bathroom stall, when he heard the footsteps coming closer.

Yoongi flinched just as hard as Jimin as he had heard the youngers frightened sound. His defenses went up immediately and his heart was pounding when he went over to where he assumed the other person was. He had run out of there to not have any witnesses of his outbreak and now he had been watched, nonetheless.

Couldn’t he have some goddamn peace for five damn minutes!?

Jimin whimpered when the door busted open and stared up at the man that had just ripped the door open angrily, eyes wide and filled with tears. He was about to open his mouth, apologize and tell him to not hurt him when the angry stranger began to shout at him, pouring all of his frustration out on him and all Jimin could do was listen.

“What are you doing in here? Did you follow me? Trying to tease me some more, huh? Do you want to watch me crack under pressure, is that it so you can tell the others that they were totally right about me and that I’m just some tiny stupid no name rapper who can’t even hold his temper before a competition?” Only after he yelled at the boy was his head clear enough for him to really look at him and he saw that the younger’s eyes were remarkably glassy.

Jimin waited for him to finish his rant, confused on why the fuck the other thought that he had spied on him. A tear fell onto his cheek and Jimin hastily wiped it away.

“I...I wasn’t listening in on you and I don’t care who you are,” He whispered, voice sounding croaky from the crying. “Also, I was here first!” His voice broke a little again and he awkwardly smoothed down his team jacket that he wore, even on days where he competed alone like today. Jimin had been the only one who was able to qualificate himself for this competition. Not many were invited to the final rounds, even though many tried from all across the country - dancers and rappers alike. If you made it though, then you had a good chance to be seen by either one of the top managers of the entertainment agencies. And there was a grand prize awaiting for the winner. But even if you didn’t you could get lucky that someone found you interesting enough to pull you out of the many competitors to hand over a card, maybe invite you to an audition. Something Jimin was dreaming about night and day.

“C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. He wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. “Wait - you are one of the dancer’s, aren’t you?” He had seen a group of them standing around before, chatting happily and acting more like cheerleaders on a trip while the rappers were acting all cool and hard-boiled. “Obviously,” Jimin pointed at his jacket where the name of his dance school was printed on and slowly got up. “And you’re a rapper,” He nodded towards Yoongi, noticing his simple outfit.

“What are you doing in here?” Spying definitely wasn’t it and now that his anger had subsided his head was clear enough to realize that it was apparently him who had interrupted the boy’s quiet, not the other way round. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes? Is that still a thing between grown up people?” He asked bluntly, ignoring that the boy had tried to hide his tears as well.

“I guess, I have been doing the same thing you did,” Jimin answered and leaned against the cold tile wall, “Having anxiety and getting away from the people and what they are saying.” Jimin smiled faintly, squeezing through the door and over to the sink to let cool water run over his wrists for moment and then washed his face, trying to get rid of the salty tear stains. When he pulled out a tissue, drying it, it still looked swollen and red. Looking down at his feet, Jimin added, “No, they can be mean but not like that…I don’t really need them to be a failure. I do that very well on my own.”

“Sorry that I didn’t recognize your probably awesome dance studio right away, princess. I had a few more important things to handle.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m .. I’m not anxious! I’m angry, there’s a difference.” He watched the younger wash his face and then look resigned at his reflection. It went like a stab through his heart when he realized that he recognized the boy’s expression; lot and desperate and full of self-hatred. He had seen it before, many time. In his own mirror. His voice was a little softer when he gently pushed further, “Why, what happened? Did you disqualify yourself?”

“Doesn’t matter what happened and no, I didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if I did. It’s only the finals today.” Jimin said and turned around to the stranger, “While you guys only have one day of competition we already did pre-rounds a week prior. We’re already only a selected group of people who compete today…or else it will take days. Do you know how many people want to be here today? It’s the competition,” A sad smile pulled at the corner of his lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“It’s making you nervous, right? You want to prove them wrong.” Jimin bit his lip. It felt good to talk to the stranger, somehow lifting the heaviness around his own heart. He knew that feeling all too well. “And you fear to not be able to show them how wrong they are… I bet you’re really, really good and they just don’t know you, yet.” Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You’re new and the rappers are always weird with new people. Believe me, they are worse than the dancers…I don’t really hang with the rappers, but some of my friends do. It’s all about being known already…whether it’s through social media or not. And they fear the unknown. They can’t access you, that’s why they want to make you nervous, so you fail, and they can say that you had no confidence or not enough experience.”

It was downright creepy how easily the younger saw through him while Yoongi could have sworn that he was perfect at hiding his own insecurities. He swallowed hard, not sure if he should defend himself - or if that would just make it even more obvious that the boy was right. Also, he was a bit confused as to why the boy was so kind to him. He had barged in, yelling at him and asking him questions and the other was building him up in return. “Th...thank you?” He answered; voice so unstable that it sounded more like a question than a statement. Also, while the other had described Yoongi’s situation pretty much on point he hadn’t told him a single thing about himself which meant that Yoongi could only assume. “So... if you know all this and you aren’t new then why are you scared? You must be good or else you wouldn’t be here. Is your competition that heavy? Is there something other at stake for you than pride?” He figured if the boy knew so much about him it was only fair to even it out.

“It’s my third year i’m competing here,” Jimin sighed, not wanting to say how good or not-good he was but the fact itself that he had made it into the finals three times in a row should be information enough for the rapper, “And you always see the same people with the same choreographies at every competition. You'll get used to it, believe me. Don’t listen to them. And I...I...I’m just nervous.”

He bit his lip, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze and rubbed over his face making it grew paler than it already was. Jimin didn’t want to think about how much of a mess he was. He’d rather hide in the corner again until the competition is over and then find a good plausible excuse for his trainer to tell him that he had been disqualified in one of the most prestige and important hip and street dance competitions. Walking over to the bank, Jimin sat down, startling when it moved as if screws had been loosened from the impact of Yoongi’s kick and the wood would crash any minute now. He froze, eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi, “That you rappers always have to be so aggressive. They really made you frustrated, huh?” He shook his head and smiled, “I guess, I’ll take the floor again then.”

Sitting down, Jimin pulled his legs in and when Yoongi still didn’t move along or walked out again after a while, he cocked his head aside. He really looked at the stranger, gazing him up and down without trying to be creepy but he only noticed now how nervous the other really seemed. His white hair standing in contrast to his dark attire, cute button nose and lips that were pursed into a pout. He was pretty handsome...and cute. Jimin had to smile, he really wasn’t the usual type of rapper. But neither was he the usual type of hip hop dancer and still both of them were here.

“What are you doing in this part of the gym anyways? Isn’t your competition in the other half? So that dancers and rappers are not mingling.” Jimin giggled, winking playfully at the stranger. Patting the floor next to him, Jimin offered him the floor to sit on, “If you want to be with the outcast though, hide until the competition is over and they disqualify you then you’re welcome to stay here with me.”

“No, I won’t stay here and hide. Actually, I came here to calm down enough to be able to go on stage. Are you really going to let it get to you?” Yoongi cocked his head a little looking at Jimin challengingly. “Isn’t it worse to hide away in here and not even try?”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s stupid but…I forgot my shoes,” Wiggling his toes a little, he looked up at Yoongi, “The most important thing for a dancer…my routine it’s…it’s tricky and I need the right kind of shoes. It’s not like I can lend some. And I’m not sure if I can do it barefoot…the floor we’re dancing on is not made to dance barefoot on it so. It will be a mess. I will be a fucking mess.” Jimin’s eyes filled with tears again and he quickly avoided Yoongi’s gaze. He knew he sounded stupid, but he needed to be the best. He couldn’t fail. He didn’t want to miss one step. Jimin would beat himself up for it forever. “I’m alone here today. I’m the only one out of my team who got a qualification. And…it just got to me. Sometimes it just gets too much, you know?” Jimin looked up with tear filled eyes. “But it’s okay, you can use the room to calm down…I’ll stay here and not say a word. I promise you won’t even notice me.”

Yoongi huffed, “You are definitely very hard to ignore, I can tell you that.” The boy was too pretty and too interesting for that, besides talking to him helped a lot more to calm his nerves than screaming into the void or kicking things. “What shoe size do you have? Maybe you can take my shoes?” He dropped his gaze to Jimin’s feet again and frown when he realized that they definitely weren’t wearing the same size. “Can’t you just try without shoes? I don’t know when you’re on but maybe you could train barefoot in here? If it doesn't work you can still go back to hiding, right?”

Jimin listened, biting his lip in thought while Yoongi was talking, saying out loud what he had thought about before. “I still got time,” Jimin whispered, wiping over his eyes in the process. “Can you help me?” He asked and blinked up. Whatever it was about the stranger, he had lured him in with his calm voice and warm eyes that made him want to try. He had thought about it too. He could still stay inside if it doesn’t work. “I…I’m not very good with judging myself,” Jimin tried a smile, cheeks blushing, “Will you give me an honest feedback then?”

“What?” Yoongi's eyes widened as he blurted out, “I can’t dance!” Before he realized that what Jimin was asking of him wasn't to be his dance partner but just to look at him and his skills without shoes.

“Uhm, sure.” He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance when in reality the prospect of having this beautiful boy dance just for him here where it was just the two of them had him swallowing hard. Even though they didn’t know each other it felt... intimate somehow.

Jimin smiled and got up, shaking out his stiff muscles and jumped on the spot a couple of times. Rolling his shoulders back, Jimin began to stretch his neck, moving his body just enough to warm it up a little. He had already done a whole warming-up process right before his melt-down, so he deemed this good enough. There wasn’t much time now anyways. “Can you hold your hand up like this please?” Jimin reached for Yoongi’s hand, not hesitant about touching him and placed it just like he needed and then smiled. “I can’t dance without stretching myself first and usually I have someone from my team with me and it’s not as effective to do it against a wall….anyways,” Without even preparing Yoongi further or telling him what was going to happen, Jimin swung his leg up gracefully and placing his foot in Yoongi’s hand so he could help him stretch. “You can pull it up a little higher, please.” Jimin giggled, “Just do it…it won’t hurt me.” With his hands placed on Yoongi’s shoulder, he looked at him with his puffy and still red eyes. “I’m Jimin.”

“Woah!” Yoongi almost took a step back in reflex as Jimin swung his leg at him but instead of kicking him he just gracefully placed his foot over his arm as if he was made of rubber. “How..?” He stood there, absolutely stunned as the younger held his balance and easily bent further showing off his toned leg and incredible flexibility. Yoongi tried not to look but with them being so close and him being way too curious for his own good he let his gaze wander down the boys leg to his ass. His cheeks heated as he thought about what else being this bendy could be good for...

Jimin cocked up an eyebrow when Yoongi wasn’t answering or telling him his name. Letting his leg fall again, Jimin took a step back. “You don’t want to tell me yours? You can tell me your rap name, too if that makes you more comfortable. I just don’t want to call you stranger in my head anymore.” Jimin genuinely smiled, before he simply slid into a split right in front of Yoongi.

“Ah, sorry, your witchcraft here slightly distracted me. You won’t start walking upside down on all fours next, will you?” He joked hiding the truth that he had been distracted. “My name’s Yoongi. My actual name.” He made a little pause to have Jimin realize that he did feel comfortable with him and that he wanted the other to know his real name. “Nice to meet you Jimin. Wait, what did you think about me in your pretty little... oh my god! how can you even do that?” He had seen girls do the splits but the thought alone of landing like this as a boy had him clenching his thighs.

“Witchcraft?” Jimin shook his head and got up again - feeling a lot better now. He could almost blend out the music that came from the inside of the gym, the voice that announced new numbers to step up on the floor. “It’s just a matter of training. You can do it, too. I can show you.”

“Nope, no way, no thank you very much my legs will stay in their natural position,” He was quick to decline Jimin’s offer. There was no way that he would try this without getting himself seriously injured. Which might be a little counterproductive for his ‘swag’ on stage.

Jimin winked at him and added, “Well, what I thought of you was…aggressive rapper, great, one of those again and then I noticed your warm eyes and very soothing voice. And now I think that I like your name.” Jimin took Yoongi by his shoulders and placed him against the wall, before taking a few steps back to have enough room to move. “My warm eyes, hu?” He chuckled, a little bit embarrassed and a little bit flattered. He raised his brow in a silent question when Jimin just moved him, but he went willingly, letting the younger put him where he wanted him to be right now.

No matter how flirty Jimin had been, now he felt anxious again to show it to a stranger, to Yoongi. He wasn’t sure if he could do it barefoot, so the risk was pretty high to fuck up and for Yoongi to tell him to just keep hiding. His heart began to race. “Be honest with me then, will you? There’s no need to lie to me.” Jimin said and took a deep breath. “I can’t do everything here since this room is pretty narrow but…I will do a few moves. Once that I’m not sure I can do on barefoot.” He nodded reassuringly, more to himself than to Yoongi. 

Jimin breathed in - and then his body changed. Just like that he became something delicate and graceful, using his arms to elongate the form of his dance move, using his legs to jump and twirl like gravity wasn’t a thing for him. Yoongi knew exactly why Jimin had qualified for this; because seeing him dance made you want to dance as well, because it looked so easy so beautiful, like purest joy formed into motions. When his awe had ebbed down a little for him to actually concentrate on what Jimin had asked him to do he noticed that the younger’s turns were a little bit shaky and that his expression turned a little scared whenever he did a really difficult jump or turn. However, his expression was the only thing that gave away that he was nervous, the turns and jumps still came out beautiful.

At least in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Jimin stopped himself short. Tears were burning in his eyes, clouding his view right away and he only hated himself even more. His lungs were burning from trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill over. Taking in another shaky breath, he ignored Yoongi completely and tried another turn. He didn’t even make a couple of twirls before he fell out of it. His hands were shaking when he tried once more, but it was harder to do it on barefoot, having no solid shoes that helped you give the best performance.

Yoongi realized too late that Jimin was spiraling out of control - not in reality but definitely in his mind. “H.. hey, Jimin!” He reached for the boys hands, squeezing both of them as he could see the younger falling into his own mind, the same way he knew oh-so-well from late nights at the studio with nothing but coffee when he had played the same part of his song over and over again until everything felt so wrong and useless that he was ready to rip everything to pieces - including himself.

“Look at me! You did amazing, okay? You might dance horrible from your point of view but people on the outside don’t know how it was supposed to look with your shoes on. They just see what you show them now. And I’m not lying to you if I say that you are a fucking revelation when you dance. It’s goddamn beautiful!” He paused when he notices how used he was to swearing, spoiling the compliments out of habit. “Uhm..,” He awkwardly scratched his head. “I’m sure one could have said that better and more elegantly. But it’s true. I promise. You dance amazing. If you don’t let it show in your face how nervous you are and if you practice those long-ass turns a little more than you’re basically flawless.”

“They will see if I fall out of a turn, though. The jury will know,” Jimin’s voice sounded weak, but there was still a blush on his cheeks from Yoongi’s compliments. “I need something to look at. Usually I look at my dance teacher,” He almost whispered, his eyes flickering around the room nervously. “If my face isn’t right….” Jimin whined, “How am I supposed to smile when all I think about is to nail those turns? I need to nail them, Yoongi! I just have to! They all dance the same shit, the same moves. The jury sees it all day…I want them to know I am different. That I’m worth to be looked at.” His eyes stopped at Yoongi and Jimin could swear his heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Please don’t panic now. You’ll do it, Jimin. Even if you make a mistake if the rest of your routine is gorgeous you’ll still get points. And I’m sure you can find something else to look at. It might be safer to choose a point on the opposite site of the room, something that won’t move like a person’s face could and that will help stabilize you. If you need me to I can make a stain onto the wall if that helps you.” He was only half joking at that.

“A stain?” Jimin chuckled and raised his eyebrows, “They would kick you out…I don’t want that. Y-you have a competition too.” Having his hands in Yoongi’s the whole time, Jimin was now reminded of their contact and the time that was passing. With a gasp, he reached for Yoongi’s wrist looking at his watch and luckily sighed again, not letting go off him. “When it’s your turn? Can you watch me?” Jimin asked bluntly, biting his lip for his straightforward question. Yoongi could just say no. He wasn’t owing him anything, but he was the only one Jimin knew here right now.

“Can I.. uhm, sure, yes I could.. I can do that.” He normally didn’t fluster that easily but how could he stay cool if some crazily talented, lovely and pretty dancer boy who was right in front of his face was looking at him like that while more or less asking him to be the fix point he wanted to rely on for his dance performance in an important competition.

“If I mess up or fail, I give you permission to just kick me like you did with the bench,” Jimin chuckled, feeling a lot more relief now with knowing he knew one of the faces in the crowd. He grabbed Yoongi by his wrist and then pulled him along and – finally – out of the empty locker room and to his own dressing room. “Deal.” Yoongi nodded though they probably both new that he was talking nonsense; would never hurt Jimin no matter the outcome of the competition.

He got flustered again when Jimin pulled him along, right through the crowd of other dancers all while not even letting go of his hand for a second. Jimin ignored the other dancers that looked at the two of them as they burst in (very obviously one of them not being a dancer but a rapper, as they could tell by his competing number). They got stares that Jimin didn’t notice and because Yoongi didn’t want to let go of Jimin’s hand either he jutted his chin forward and pretended to not see them either.

Taking his water bottle and his make-up, Jimin quickly fixed himself up in the mirror as best as he could, before he shrugged it off, “Ah, well I guess whiny and red puffy eyes is my look now.” Yoongi watched Jimin doing his makeup, as quickly and efficiently as Yoongi could only dream of, wishing he could ask Jimin to do his too. “Let’s call it real and vulnerable and leave out the self-bashing okay?”

Turning around to Yoongi again, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh at the way some of the dancers were oozing over the rapper. “They just like you because you’re one of the rappers.” Jimin raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you say they act like cheerleaders? It’s always the same…the rappers pretend we don’t really exist but secretly drool over the dancers while we…well, they just drool right away.” Yoongi gasped in fake shock at Jimin’s observations and puffed out his chest in an exaggerated show of fake pride before answering, “Drool over dancers? We would never! We are way too cool and smooth and… wait, did you just say you people might be interested too? What does one need to do to get a chance at dating a pretty dancer?” He was teasing Jimin slightly though his spine tingled at the thought of actually dating Jimin for real.

Must be the pre-stage adrenaline talking.

“Sure, they are,” Jimin put on a little bit of tinted lip balm, making his lips shiny and giving them a rosy undertone. He couldn’t ignore the little stab in his heart, when Yoongi talked about dating one of the dancers, maybe he meant even more than one. Maybe he was just like the other rappers when it came down to looking for sex. Jimin nodded over to the other dancers in the dressing room, the ones who kept staring at Yoongi, “Just go over there then and ask. I bet they will gladly give you their phone number.” He shrugged his shoulder and turned around to the mirror again, putting on a little more lip balm. “I need to get dressed anyway.” Jimin smiled faintly, trying not to show that he was a teeny tiny bit jealous at the thought of Yoongi simply ignoring him for superficial (at least in his mind they were or maybe it was just the jealousy speaking) dancers. Getting out a shiny, silver top out of his bag with a sparkly jacket and what looked like leather pants, Jimin sighed. When he noticed that Yoongi didn’t move, Jimin looked at him, hands already holding onto the hem of his shirt, revealing just enough of his stomach for Yoongi’s eyes to drop down. “If you stay though,...ehm, could you turn around maybe?”

Yoongi licked his lips, the answer already on his tongue, something along the lines of ‘why would I go over to them and ask for your number if you could just give it to me directly?’ but he hesitated for a second to long and then Jimin lifted his shirt and his thoughts were just gone. The younger showed off his smooth, flat stomach, shirt riding up enough to hint at his abs. Though what was even more mouthwatering was the little happy trail that lead his eyes naturally down further and further until it disappeared in the hem of his pants and all Yoongi wanted to do was get the fabric out of the way to see where it lead, to get a glimpse of… he coughed when he realized that Jimin had spoken to him but he hadn’t really gotten what the other had said so he just stood there, blinking at Jimin who was still standing there like he was about to strip right in front of his eyes and didn’t know how to react.

“Pardon?”

“Turn around, please.” Jimin blushed a little, holding his shirt in front of his chest now, “I’d like to undress...and…” He motioned for Yoongi to turn and only then did the other react and Jimin could have sworn he saw blushed cheeks. Had he blushed because of him? Jimin quickly pushed that thought back and got out of his pants and into his dancing outfit. “You can turn back now.” He was still securing the belt, fixing the top and then smoothed over the jacket. “What do you think?” He did a little turn, bending over to his feet and turning up his pants that now, without shoes, were a little too long.

“Yeah, that’s.. that’ll go.” Yoongi’s voice was a little too affected for his liking though he couldn’t help it: Jimin looked stunning! Not that he hadn’t looked pretty before but his stage outfit was simply unfair! His pants were a little tighter and so they accentuated his muscular legs. It was almost impossible to keep from staring at them. His shirt had a low cut neckline and gave a hint of collarbone and chest, something that Yoongi was just weak for. On top of it he wore a sparkly jacket that was glittering and shining, making him look like an actual prince. “You look amazing.” He finally confessed, almost a little shy now that he was faced with so much beauty.

“Thank you,“ Jimin averted his gaze, not really sure what to say now and if he should complement Yoongi back or if this was awkward or…

“You’re not bad either,“ He could have slapped himself for that in the face. He had panicked, wanting to tell Yoongi that he thought of him as handsome, too – even without sparkles or a fancy outfit. “I mean…I just…you’re handsome. That’s what I was trying to say ehm…“ Jimin rubbed his neck awkwardly. He was almost relieved when the door opened and a man, holding onto a clipboard was announcing their group of dancers next.

Yoongi burst into laughter, breaking the tension. “I’m ‘not bad’ hu? What a nice compliment..” He felt relief that he wasn’t the only awkward one - and that his interest didn’t seem so one sided or else Jimin wouldn’t have gotten so adorably shy. Before he could deepen that assumption the door opened and Jimin snapped back into focus, body tensing up immediately and so quickly, that Yoongi was afraid the other might have pulled a muscle. The blush on Jimin’s cheek vanished and instead he paled again.

“Hey...” Yoongi reached out for the others shoulder, gently digging his thumb into the hardened muscles until Jimin lost a bit of the tension. “Don’t do that. No overthinking please. You were doing great before; you’ll do great on stage. I’ll be in the crowd so you will have something to focus on and the judges will be absolutely blown away by you. You’ll see, I can predict the future. Those of pretty dancers at least.”

“Why are you so kind to me?“ Jimin whispered, unsure eyes searching for Yoongi’s in a weak attempt to ground himself. Nervously Jimin pulled at his bottom lip. They let everyone else exit first, before Jimin took a deep breath again. “O-kay, let’s do this.“ Jimin didn’t move. “Okay…now.“ Jimin was still frozen, hands shaking. “M-maybe if you drag me outside?“

“Because I want to. And soft people deserve kindness.” He shrugged his shoulders. Yoongi thought of himself as simple. If someone was nice to him he was nice to them back - which also applied for the other direction of course. But Jimin was nice and even though they had a rocky start he liked their way of talking to each other. Unfortunately, even kindness didn’t get Jimin to move so Yoongi did what Jimin had asking him to. Kind of.

“As you wish.” He commented, the only warning that Jimin got before Yoongi bend down, getting an arm under his knees before sweeping Jimin literally off his feet and carrying through the door bridal style. In the hallway he gingerly set him down looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Can you walk the rest, or do you want me to carry you like this on stage?”

“I…I just …wanted to hold your hand again but if you want to carry me everywhere from now on…I’ll gladly let you do so,“ Jimin giggled, the sweet gesture of Yoongi loosening him up again. “Thank you.” Reaching out for Yoongi’s arm he squeezed him lightly, hand falling down to his to interlace their fingers. There was another announcement and Jimin jerked violently. This time, he just took a deep breath and walked ahead, leading Yoongi into the gym and into the crowd of people that surrounded the stage. It felt strangely right to hold hands with the dancer that he had barely known for an hour now. Yoongi allowed himself to think about how amazing it would feel to get to know him even better, to take him out to dates and talk through the night and then hold his hand (or foot just to help him stretch again) but his thoughts were quickly cut short when he felt Jimin flinch again. The boy was so jumpy he felt like there must be some bunny genes in him. He inched a little closer, hoping that his presence would calm him a little (he had been told before that his ‘lethargic appearance was as grounding as a ton of bricks’).

Jimin kept his gaze low when he squeezed through the people and to the left side of the stage where the dancers entered the stage each time their number got called out. They were getting closer to his own. ”Y-you can stay here,“ Jimin said a little breathless as he began to warm up his muscles again. Then he hesitated. Only two more dancers in front of him. “Thank you, really.“ Jimin smiled at him and before he could think about it, the boy leaned in placing a soft kiss on Yoongi’s cheeks and then quickly ran off, while his heart felt like it was jumping right out of his chest – and it wasn’t because of his nervousness.

He waited, jumping from one foot to the other while the music was thumping loudly out of the boxes, but he ignored the other dancer completely. It would only make him more of a nervous wreck to watch how good he was. Jimin only looked up to search the crowd and meet Yoongi’s eyes again until someone stepped in front of his view.

“Number?”

Jimin looked up at the man with the clipboard again, telling him his number quick and then lined up at the side of the stage. Closing his eyes, Jimin inhaled deeply. His stomach churned, heart beating fast and he felt like he was about to faint. And then his name was announced.

“Number 78, Park Jimin, Arts and Dance Company Seoul.” The voice said over the speaker and a gasp fell over the crowd. They were still clapping, but it sounded a little off, as if they weren't sure. Heads were turning as everyone tried to get the best view.

All eyes were on Jimin.

“It’s him.” A young boy next to Yoongi exclaimed and squeezed himself in front of him, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise. “Who?” His friend followed him close, apologizing quietly to Yoongi when he bumped into him. “The one I told you about! I want to be like him so bad!” He answered and pulled his friend up to the front row so he could see the performance perfectly. To say Yoongi was confused would have been an understatement. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but suddenly everyone around him seemed to talk about Jimin. The boy he found crying in the bathrooms, wanting to quit because he had forgotten his shoes. It just didn’t add up. There were too many voices, too many information’s pouring down on him and he couldn’t process one bit of them as he tried to keep his gaze on Jimin - just like he had promised.

“If he wins this again it would be the third time in a row.” Yoongi shook his head, looking at the man that passed and said it so nonchalantly. But hadn’t Jimin said that it was his third time competing in this competition? That would mean…

“Do you think he’ll give me an autograph?” A what? Yoongi snapped around to that person, whose eyes were shining while they followed Jimin as he walked up on stage. “Why is he barefoot?” Another one asked and Yoongi turned back to Jimin, trying to concentrate on him and solely him. “He lost weight again, right? And he dyed his hair. I loved his pink hair.” Yoongi gulped.

“So, that’s what he looks like,” A group of dancers came closer, all eyes on stage where Jimin was getting into position. “I think he’s overrated. This whole ‘I don’t show my face’ thing is just...” He rolled his eyes. “What even is he trying to keep up with his mystery. He should be showing off, don’t you think?” The other dancer just shrugged their shoulders, crossing their arms in front of their chest. “I think he’s amazing. I wouldn’t hide if I were Park Jimin.”

“Especially not when all of the rappers are drooling over me. Last time, they were all up Taemin’s face because he knows Jimin. You don’t want to know how many asked for Jimin's number. It was so annoying.” His friend chuckled, “What would I give to be him. And he doesn’t even care. He never shows up at the after party.” Their chatter died down and the whole gym hall went quiet when the music started.

All eyes were focused on the stage and on Jimin, whose expression completely changed with the first beat of the music. The unsure gaze was replaced with a dark gaze, smile turned into a wicked smirk as he licked over his lips sultrily. His walk oozing confidence and Jimin raked a hand through his hair, showing off his sharp jawline (the girl next to Yoongi had to hold onto her friend, looking as if she was about to faint). Perfectly timed on the music, Jimin snapped his head around and winked, just right before the beat dropped and the crowd went crazy.

Whoever this was, this wasn’t sweet Jimin anymore.

Jimin was completely gone in his own world, in which he didn’t need to think about insecurities or shoes that he had forgotten but simply dance. His routine had started off with a rough hip-hop beat, hyping up the crowd perfectly when it suddenly changed. Yoongi felt whiplash. The audience was going crazy, when Jimin lost his jacket, throwing it somewhere and then the isolated and fast dance moves were now replaced with something much softer. Jimin was one with the music and Yoongi had never seen something as beautiful as this, recognizing some of the movements he had done in the locker room. He was about to convince himself that this was just a beautiful dream, that something as mesmerizing as this couldn’t exist in the rough world he was living in, maybe he was still in bed and it was the day before the competition, when Jimin’s eyes met his. For a second, the insecure boy was back, searching his eyes to reassure himself and Yoongi smiled.

He was the anchor Jimin needed whenever he was at risk of losing his confidence which luckily wasn’t that often. Yoongi was pretty sure that people who didn’t know Park Jimin, who hadn’t seen him like he had wouldn’t even recognize the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes or the shape of his mouth.

“Ah, I see this is why you’re here,” A familiar voice next to Yoongi startled him effectively as the song faded out. There was silence for a couple of seconds, where Jimin bowed and then the crowd suddenly went crazy. People cheering loudly, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice it. The anxious gaze was back, a faint, nervous smile and then Jimin turned around. Yoongi’s eyes followed the dancer who hurried off the stage to get some air into his lungs and only then he looked at his friend - Hoseok. “Fuck, man. We’ve been looking for you!” Hoseok nudged his side, “You okay there? I see you found something to get your mind off things?”

“I.. I was just..,” Yoongi cut himself off as he saw the knowing smirk on Hoseok's face. Babbling like an idiot wouldn't convince Hoseok that he had just been ‘chilling’ like he had tried to make it seem. He probably had seen him staring at Jimin in awe already. So, he just shrugged his shoulder. “ I needed something beautiful, so I went to see the dancers. Why were you searching for me? Are you already lost without me?”

“Yeah, do whatever, man. We’re on in thirty minutes, that’s why I’m here. You better be there or Namjoon will behead you.” Hoseok patted his shoulder, cocking up an eyebrow, “You know how nervous Namjoon can get and I don’t want him to accidentally break a microphone. That’s your job to piss of the tec’s. After that there will be enough time to drool over the dancers.” His friend chuckled low at the many memories of Yoongi mic dropping and giving everyone at the venue a heart attack. “So, you coming?”

 “Yeah, sure…,” He went along but his eyes weren’t on Hoseok or the direction he was walking, he was looking at the part of the gym where the dancers were mingling, trying to find Jimin and give him a sign that he had to leave. He didn’t want the other to think that he had just run off. Though hopefully Jimin would get it himself that he had needed to change positions and get ready for his own stage.

Jimin had seen Yoongi leave with a weird feeling in his heart. He waved awkwardly but Yoongi had already turned around.

Now he was alone again.

There were people congratulating him, strangers patting his shoulders and Jimin nodded, thanking them politely – but he didn’t want to stay and watch the competition any longer. He wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else.

“Park Jimin?” A man in a suit smiled at him and Jimin bowed in respect, knowing immediately how important that man was when his eyes flickered down to his press ID card hanging around his neck. Jimin looked nervously over his shoulder, biting his lip. He could see the other hall from where he stood. Could hear that someone was beatboxing, people waving their hands to the beat of the music at the rap competition. His heart began to race. He wanted to watch Yoongi so badly.

“Y-yes, that’s me.”

...

Yoongi warmed up his voice with a few casual raps, lines flowing more quickly the longer he rapped. Now that he wasn’t focusing on Jimin any longer he could feel his own ‘stage butterflies’ fluttering in his stomach, telling him that even though he had been on countless stages the nerves still tingled within him at the thought of basically spilling his thoughts and feelings in front of so many people.

Hoseok was rolling his head, jumping on the spot a couple of times. “You’re going to win this.” He kissed Yoongi on top of his head, very well aware that his friend hated this. “If not…I will tell everyone you sleep with a bunny cushion.” The announcer was calling out Yoongi and his opponent, hyping up the crowd and Hoseok smiled. “So, you better win this, baby!”

“You asshole!” He pushed Hoseok, no real venom behind it. He had way too many blackmail material on Hoseok as well so the other would never risk spilling anything if he wanted Yoongi to keep his secrets.

But it was enough to light the spark in Yoongi, the one he needed to spit fire on stage.

…

Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he leaned back his head. The sun was setting low, dipping the buildings around in a beautiful light and Jimin yawned. It had been a long day, one that had started out awful but turned into something beautiful. Something that made him feel light.

He had made a few mistakes in his routines, movements he needed to work on but Jimin didn’t feel the urge to drive back to his dance studio and do it immediately. Most of the dancers were already out, either back in their homes or hotels to get themselves ready for the night. Jimin had never been interested in the after-show parties. He didn’t care much about anything but dance, actually. At least until today. The doors opened again, and a bunch of people stormed out, some with medals around their necks, some discussing vividly, while others just simply parted ways. Jimin bit his bottom lip, trying to adjust his hold around two cups of coffee he was holding, trying not to lose the bag around his shoulder while also holding on to a trophy. He wouldn’t dare to let anything of it fall. He’d rather let his hands get burned from the hot coffee.

Yoongi was animatedly talking to his friends, all of them still on their post-stage high and with their medals in hand. In the end it hadn’t been enough for first place, but a medal was a medal and it was only pushing Yoongi further, making him want to work harder so that next time they would get the gold medal for sure.

The boys had persuaded him to go with them to the after competition party. Normally he didn’t like them as he wanted to go over their stage again, write new lyrics because he felt so inspired, fixing mistakes, listening to all the new music he had discovered during the competition, that kind of thing. Though he figured that if he went along then maybe, just maybe he had a slight chance of seeing Jimin again. Maybe this time he would be there, too? Speaking of which… he stopped short when he saw the younger standing at the entrance, two coffees in hand (which promptly resulted in someone running into him because there were so many people trying to get out the entrance). Who was Jimin waiting for? Would he get picked up by someone from his dance team? A trainer?

When Yoongi noticed him, Jimin’s heart skipped a beat and the younger instantly smiled at him. He couldn’t wave with everything in his hands, so he waited awkwardly but Yoongi wasn’t making any moves to come closer. He sighed.

“These are getting kind of hot!” Jimin called out for him, motioning to the cup of coffees, giggling softly in the process when it took a moment for it to click with Yoongi.

“Wh...oh!” He awkwardly started moving again into the opposite directions of his friends who were stopping and looking at their conversation with confusion written all over their faces (except Hobi who wore a shit eating grin). “Sorry, I didn’t realize...” He gingerly took one of the cups from Jimin, avoiding the other’s eyes as it suddenly became a little harder to breathe. “I thought you were waiting for a friend.” His gaze trailed down until it landed on the trophy. “I see you won the competition. Again. Your fans must go crazy right now.”

“Who is that?” Namjoon asked, eyes scanning the young dancer and then Yoongi’s reaction, but before he could ask more Hoseok already pulled him along. “Yoongi, you still coming right? Yoongi? Yon-,” Namjoon got caught off by Hoseok who pushed him forward, telling him kindly to shut and let Yoongi be.

“My what? Again? Who told you?” Jimin laughed and shook his head, awkwardly holding onto the trophy. “Yeah, I was waiting for you, actually…” Jimin blushed, “Hope that’s okay? Not weird or anything? I wouldn’t have made it without you, so this is as much yours as it is mine. And I couldn’t say ‘thank you’, yet…so, the coffee is yours.” Averting his gaze, Jimin blinked into the distance, not sure what to say, “I…I saw you. On stage, I mean.”

“Basically, everyone around me when I was standing in the crowd. I learned a lot of things. How you drink your coffee. What you think about after parties. How cute you looked in pink hair.” He was shamelessly teasing the younger just to see the cute flustered expression on him again. It was totally worth it. “Thank you.” Yoongi took a sip from his coffee while trying to figure out how to say that he would have preferred his phone number as thanks without being creepy when Jimin’s added comment had him freezing. “On stage? You mean you watched me…” There was a shy smile stealing its way on his lips and he quickly hid it in the coffee cup.

“Yes, in my opinion you would have deserved to win.” Jimin nodded eagerly, “You were amazing, and you definitely told those people off who made you feel like shit before. They will watch out for you now.” The younger noticed the smile on Yoongi’s face nonetheless and mimicked it. Adjusting his trophy again (seriously, who thought making them so big and obnoxious was a good idea) Jimin pointed somewhere behind him, “Usually, I go back to my dance studio now…work on the mistakes I made and everything b-but I thought…m-maybe, if you want to and are not busy. I could understand if you want to go to the party or something, but I would have liked to ask you if…”

“If…what?” Yoongi’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach again just that this time they weren’t because of a competition. “If you…” Jimin sighed, taking a deep breath, “If you want to come with me? Not for polishing my mistakes but…the coffee machine in our studio is really, really good and if we go up a few floors you have a great view over the skyline.” His eyes flickered nervously as he waited for an answer, heart jumping in his chest.

“Well, I already got some great coffee thanks to a certain someone…,” He tipped his cup a little, “...but how can I say no to a beautiful view?” He let his eyes linger on Jimin, making it clear that he wasn’t talking about the skyline here.

Jimin smiled at the rapper and then leaned in without any hesitation. He just let his heart decide for once. This time he didn’t kiss Yoongi on his cheek but on the corner of his lips. A kiss, barely there, too soft to be true. Then he let his hand fall down to Yoongi’s and took his hand again to lead the way. “I just wanted to say, ‘thank you’ properly.”

Pulling the rapper along and into the opposite direction of where he had initially gone with his friends, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh softly at the rosy blush on Yoongi’s cheeks. “Your friends won’t mind if you come with me instead?”

“Ah, no, they won’t mind.” Yoongi turned back to check on them and saw Hobi waving him goodbye in a nonverbal way of saying ‘what are you still doing here? Go with him - and tell me everything tomorrow!’

“Let’s go see your studio then.” He couldn't wait to get to know even more of Jimin.

A/N: Our second story for the Yoonmin Event :) Cat and I hope you liked it! ♡

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[19mrs-barnes17]

The Maze

Summary: Your friends head into a haunted house and you decide to entertain yourself in a corn maze, but you weren’t prepared for what you found.

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Bucky x reader (College AU)

Warnings: anxiety? death, mention of blood and monsters, overall spooky theme

Word count: 2,740

A/N: my submission for @barnesrogersvstheworld​ ‘s AYAOTD challenge! The prompt is in bold. [BTW I made the collage above :) and I’m pretty proud lol]

~

It scared you. That tightening in your chest, the one that ached with a panic that never seemed to dull. Shaking hands and frightened eyes that flickered about the area as you held tightly onto your keys. Your fingers aching from the pressure of the cool metal between them. The chill of the dark night, it sent shivers down your spine. Your heartbeat was steady. However, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was seeing to altering that all on its own. 

So there you were, standing outside the rotting building that seemed to drip with cobwebs and ooze blood. Your eyes scanned over it again and again, becoming more creeped out by it realistic nature by the minute. Shaking your head you took a step back, your friends sighing at your decision.

“Okay. Well, just wait out here okay? We shouldn’t be long.” They vanished from sight as they stepped through the entryway, their screams and laughter sounding from within. Well, sounds like you’ll have to find new roommates for the apartment.

A chill passed down your spine as your eyes scanned the place for something to keep your mind occupied. A hay ride, corn maze, and several food stalls that you had already eaten at. Nothing about the ride or maze seemed fun, especially alone in the dark of night. You sat shifting your weight for a while, unsure if you made the right call until you got another look at the house. A groan escapes your lips before you turn on your heel and head toward the maze. 

The air grows absolutely frigid, your skin prickling under your clothes at the mere caress of the breeze. Gravel crunches under your boots as you make your way down the path, eyes nervously glancing around at any small sound. This was a terrible idea. As you hugged your sweater closer, acutely aware of the goosebumps prickling across your arms and the back of your neck. You mentally flip a coin before turning left down a path that seemed heavily tread. 

The flickering lights of the candles in the jack-o-lanterns that were scattered along the pathways grew ever more distant, the path darkening under the cloudy night sky. You can’t help but feel dread rising in your chest, fearing that you had made a wrong turn down a false path. When you could hardly see the path, the flickering lights too distant and dim, that dread had become certainty. As you sift through your bag for your phone you silently curse the lazy punks who decided to carve their own way through the maze. The moment your hands and mind simultaneously realized it, there was a tightening around you heart. You had forgotten it at home. Too late had you remembered, halfway to the festival. Shit. You chastised yourself for forgetting and did your best to retrace your steps.

According to your watch, as far as you can tell, you have been in the maze for forty minutes. It’s only supposed to take approximately 20. Your mind was becoming frantic, thinking up all kinds of things that go bump in the night. The pounding of your heart echoing in your ears as you stumble through the maze, gradually losing the ability to take a proper breath. Your anxiety was heightened by the creepy scarecrow lurking above the corn. You don’t remember seeing that there before, and boy was it freaking you out. Tears threatened to spill over and down your cheeks, terror setting in. 

It had now been an hour. You debated shoving through the corn and making your own way out, however, the sound of husks crunching under a pair of feet snatched your attention. Wiping away a few stray tears, you cleared your throat and began shouting at the stranger.

“Hello?! Is someone there? Do you have a map? I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.” Panic was evident in your shaky voice as your head whipped every which way in search of the stranger. The night was far too dark for your eyes to make out anything in the maze but the corn. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder has you screaming until your eyes land on the culprit. You roll your eyes as he shakes his head and chuckles softly, his teasing gaze pumping anger in your veins.

“Not funny Buck. Not funny at all.” Your arms wrapped once more around your torso, the temperature continuing to drop. “How did you find me?”

“The maze is closed. You’re the only one left in here doll, like a needle in a haystack. But your shouting did help.” He shrugs off his leather jacket, pulling his hoodie over his head and into your hands. You stare at him incredulously, brow furrowed.

“You’ll freeze in that shirt and jacket.” He just shook his head and began walking, leaving you only slightly behind as you pulled his hoodie over your head. “Thank you.”

“What were you doing in here anyway? You were supposed to wait outside.” He had this concerned look in his eyes and disappointment in the furrow of his brow. 

“I just wanted to entertain myself while you guys were in the house. That place gave me the creeps. I didn’t mean to get lost in here.” You kicked a rock off to the side and weren’t startled by the thud but what followed. The rock rolled back. “What the hell?”

“What?” You didn’t respond, instead grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly in fear. “Y/N, what is it?”

All you could do was point at the pair of glowing yellow eyes hiding within the stalks, peering from within the darkness. It took all your self control not to scream as you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s torso, social anxiety be damned. There was no way you were staying in this maze a minute longer.

“Get me out of here.” You had never heard the terror in your own voice so shaky and quiet, eyes pleading with your friend. Any panic in his eyes was concealed by a newfound sense of protectiveness, his arm on the small of your back as he leads you onward. His eyes continue to flicker between the path ahead and what was left behind, cautious of whatever you had discovered in the maze.

A rustling behind the two of you caught your attention as you finally reached the outer ring of jack-o-lanterns, stopping dead in your tracks. Bucky’s hand moved to grab yours as he locked eyes on whatever was behind you.

“Don’t look. Keep your eyes ahead, and when I tell you to run. Promise me.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping his gaze on the thing behind you. “Promise me, please.”

“I-I promise. What’s going on Buck? What is it?” You nearly turn your head but Bucky is quick, shouting for you to move. “Not without you, damn it!” 

You grip his hand tight and begin to bolt through the maze unsure if you would be able to resist glancing behind you. What the hell were you running from? Preoccupied by your thoughts you failed to notice the pumpkin before you, tripping over and into stalks of corn. Unfortunately, Bucky was no match for your entire body weight yanking him to the side and into the corn stalks. Both of you land with a muffled groan and flat on your stomach, small scratches across what little skin was exposed. 

The wind had been knocked out of you, your lungs burning and aching for air. Your hands grasp at the dried husks that littered the dirt path as you desperately tried to fill your lungs with air. Tears poured down your cheeks as you gasped, vision a bit hazy. 

“Shhh. Relax, just relax. Give yourself a minute.” Bucky knelt by your side, rubbing your back gently as he scanned the area around you. Once you get your bearings, you pull yourself up from the ground. There’s still a burning in your lungs but its duller.

“Woah, what’re you doing?”  Bucky is turning you about, scanning your hands and legs, your scratched up knee and face. 

“Looking for any serious injuries.” You stand at attention, and he gives a small smile. “Very funny.”

“What d’ya reckon serge? Am I good to go?” He shakes his head at your silly character voice, and that’s when you notice the scratch under his right eye. You decide to give him a quick once over which he of course protests.

“I’m fine. We need to go before-”

“Did you hear something?” Your eyes flicker about the small area, a dead end in the maze likely created by some punks.

“Just your god awful attempt at a Boston accent. I mean ser-” You narrow your eyes at him and place a hand over his mouth.

“Sh. I’m serious Buck.” He removes your hand, eyes scanning and ears listening for the rustling of the corn stalks. But it's dead silent. And your not sure that’s any better. “We need to go now or I’m officially never leaving the apartment again.” 

There’s a gnawing feeling in your gut, that ghastly chill on the nape of your neck, and a tightening in your chest. All signs pointing to danger, and you feared a pair of eyes were on you. The feeling has you wanting to pick up your pace.

“Whatever it is that you won’t let me see, it’s back.” Bucky’s brow furrows as he glances around.

“I don’t see it, how do you know?” You almost answer, but footprints in the mud before you make your heart drop into your stomach.

“Oh, god.” Your eyes travel up and are met with that of an indescribable creature, one you knew you could never forget. You wouldn’t know where to begin. It’s eyes were all you could focus on, with their haunting golden glow and their dead gaze. There seemed to be no life behind them and yet its chest heaved. It released a low growl that emanated from somewhere within. You were frozen in place, hand tightly gripping on to Bucky’s in sheer terror.

“Don’t move.” Out of your peripheral vision you noticed a faint blue glow coming from the side of his pocket. You wanted to warn against such a reckless move, but you honestly couldn’t muster the words. “Help is on the way. We have to run.”

“I-I can’t.” You hadn’t mentioned it, thinking that you had made it free, but there had been an exponentially increasing amount of blood flowing down your leg. “Guess that scratch was worse than we thought sarge.” Your whisper was shaky and the beast before your growled once more, a shiver trickling down your spine.

“I’m not leaving you.” You really wanted to give him a ‘no shit Sherlock’ look but the creature was watching closely. 

“I would hope not soldier. That would look mighty bad on your record.” 

“Seriously Y/N. I’m gonna have to carry you.” You nearly shook your head, the creatures eyes flickering between you. 

“No way. Not enough time for you to pick me up bridal style. This thing seems to enjoy a hunt, but I’m willing to bet not that much.”

“Who said anything about bridal style?” 

“Oh no you do-” 

It was too late, he had slung you over his shoulder. You help your hair out of your face, unfortunately gaining the job of monster watch. Fuck.

“How we lookin’ doll?”

“Well, I would say the view is lovely. However, the moment I look up there’s a rampant creature barreling toward us!” Bucky lets out a breathless chuckle as he cuts a corner. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Your brows furrow, baffled at what he was talking about.

“The moment we’re free then you can take your speed as a compliment. Not a minute sooner Barnes.”

“What about the so called view?” Your eyes widen and you can barely feel the heat rising in your cheeks as they flushed crimson.

“I was not talking about your ass sergeant.” Mutters something along the lines of ‘yeah sure’ as he adjust you on his shoulder. “Keep dreaming, but the thing that is currently gaining speed on us is sort of occupying my attention.”

“So you say. Entrance up ahead, at least 15ft.” You almost allowed yourself to cheer but the gnawing feeling in your gut told you not to celebrate just yet. 

“Fuck. there’s another one.”

“What?! Bigger? Smaller? Please say smaller.”

“Okay, but Abe Lincoln wouldn’t approve.” You can hear the strain in his breathing and the low growls of the creatures as the gain. “I know I said they were gaining already. But they’re seriously gaining Buck, you might want to tap into that tank of adrenaline.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?”

“A new and fun cardio exercise that I will never be a part of again?”

“You and me both doll. Almost there.” But they were quicker than almost, pulling his leg from under him and knocking the wind out of you for the second time tonight. Bucky cradles you beneath him and uses his body like a shield. He screams in agony but refuses to move despite your pounding on his chest.

“Damn you! Move! I won’t let you do this! I won’t go without you! In this maze and in life, I’m with you-”

“Till the end of the line.” He cries out as he’s clawed across the back, blood pooling down his sides and staining his blue v-neck crimson.

“No!” Suddenly everything goes black and you're filled with a sense of confusion as the pain in your body evaporates.

“Y/N! Wake up!” Those steel blue eyes peering over you in the dim light of the hall sent tears down your cheeks. 

The panic and rush of emotions had you pulling him in close, not caring at the moment about the repercussions. His lips are soft and gentle, the salt of your tears mixing in with the kiss as he held you with one arm. You don’t allow him to gaze too long in your eyes as your wrap your arms around him tightly.

“Was it a nightmare?” He’s shaken the shock of the kiss off a bit, still dazed and confused. “What happened in it?”

“It was so real Buck. So, so real.” You were practically shaking in his arms. “Remember how I told you about getting lost in a corn maze at night when I was 9?”

He nods, eyes watching you intently as you try to make sense of your nightmare. His hand still rested on the small of your back, making you unfocused.

“Uh, well… That’s where it was set.” You tell him everything, tears threatening to spill over as you reach the bitter end. “I couldn’t save you. Worse, I got you killed. And it all seemed so real.”

“Hey, it's okay. I’m alive. It was just a figment of your wild imagination Y/N. Look at me,” Your eyes find his and he smiles softly. “I’m okay. Nothing got me, we’re safe.”

He continues muttering comforting words until your breathing steadies and you calm down. 

~

Tag list: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @barnesrogersvstheworld​ @asphalt-cocktail​

[breakyourhaloandley]

01: All I Need Is One More Broken Heart

I let out a shaky breath, smoke seeping out from between my lips. The small exhaust fan above me is buzzing, threatening to break any day now just like everything else in this apartment. Jake would kill me if he knew I was smoking inside, but I don’t see how it matters. This place is a glorified garbage heap so a little cigarette smoke isn’t going to make a difference. 

Lifting the bottle of white wine up to my lips I take a long drink before staring back at the person in the mirror. I don’t know what time it is, nor do I really care, but I’m sure it’s not the ‘proper’ time to be drinking, whatever that means. Black eyeliner is smudged under my eyes and my long black hair is in desperate need of brushing. I’ll get to it later, sometime when I’m not stuck in a fucking spiral of drunkenness, sadness and utter lack of care for my wellbeing. 

The front door clicks and I hear someone fumbling with keys, I guess Jake is back. I flick the rest of my cigarette into the toilet before flushing away the evidence. I stumble, almost losing my balance as I make my way up to the kitchen where he’s fixing himself a plate of questionable Chinese leftovers. 

His eyes dart up to me, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. I see it in his disappointed scowl. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon Andy,” he states, motioning towards the bottle in my hand. 

“And this is white wine, not liquor.” I retort, needing anything but a lecture from one of my bandmates. None of them have any room to talk. 

“You know we have band practice tonight, right? Tour starts in a week.”  “Don’t remind me” I groan, well aware of the ticking time bomb set to blow up in my face in a matter of days. 

I should be excited, it’s our first major tour. We’re headling the AP Tour this year along with my friend Matt’s band, D.R.U.G.S. I should be, but I’m anything but excited. A few months ago it would have been a totally foreign concept to me, the thought of not wanting to be on tour. Yet things change, people change and in what feels like the blink of an eye the things that used to fill you with joy become your worst fears. 

It’s not that I don’t love music anymore, it’s not that I don’t want to be in this band or that I don’t want to sing anymore. It’s that I don’t want to deal with the things that come with it. The screaming fans who think I’m some perfect fucking idol they should look up to, someone who can save them from themselves when little do they know I can’t even save myself. It’s the interviews, the time schedule, the sleepless nights in a bunk too small for my legs, it’s the loneliness despite being surrounded by people night and day, it’s the expectations. 

I wonder if the fans will notice, notice the new cracks on my perfect exterior where the flawed human being is threatening to breakthrough. I don’t know what happened, but something changed on the last tour. It was as if this darkness had consumed me. The funny thing is that I had actually made a vow to myself at the start of our first tour that I wouldn’t drink. I’d seen alcohol destroy too many of my childhood idols to ever want such evil in my life. 

Like most promises, this one wasn’t kept. It was our second tour and during the kick-off party, I had a fatal lapse in judgment. Someone handed me a drink, the stench of alcohol was potent but I drank it anyway. I can only compare the feeling to someone who is about to drown, and right before they open their mouth and let the water fill their lungs, they manage to resurface gasping for air. All the anxiety, the fear, the demons that have haunted me since childhood were suddenly quiet. I felt free, happy, confident and social. 

I no longer cared what people thought about me, like that life-saving breath of fresh air, I felt alive. 

I guess you could say I went overboard, I started drinking every night and that’s when the darkness started creeping back in. The shadow slowly wrapping its cold fingers around my throat and after the tour ended it spiraled out of control. Bad decisions, at least those that I can remember, haunt me yet I just keep making them. 

So now I have a week before the tour starts, a week to get my shit together.  “And are you fucking listening to me?” Jake snaps, pulling me out of my wine-induced haze. 

“Uh yeah-”  “I said you can’t pull the shit you’ve been pulling on tour. No more ending up on the stage floor crying and making a fool of us. John said that-”  “Thank you, Jake, I’ve seen the videos I don’t need a lecture.” I cut him off. 

---

The walls burst down the second I see him, like floodgates opening-up and memories that I thought were buried suddenly resurface like it was yesterday instead of a month ago. He’s standing there, silky black hair concealing his face. He’s too busy tuning his base to even notice that I’ve walked in. His tattooed fingers work the strings of the instrument and I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before now. 

My heart is racing in my chest and I swear to god he has to hear it. I feel a knot in my stomach and I’m not sure if it’s that or the hangover making me feel like I’m going to throw up. Ashley looks up, his caramel eyes fixating on my lanky frame. Eyes dart up and down and wait, was that a grimace? He sets his base down and his boots click as he walks towards me. 

“You okay Six?” he asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. 

“I’m fine Ash.”  “You’ve lost weight,” he comments, the tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t mean it as a compliment. 

I’ve been steadily dropping weight since our first tour, I don’t know where it got out of control but like most things in my life, it did. God, I want to be fucking wasted right now, anything but dealing with this. 

This dance we’re doing around each other is new, and I don’t know the steps to it. All I know him as is my best friend, the person who’s been there for me since the start, warmth in cold, oxygen to a drowning man. 

I can still feel his lips on mine, the night it all went to hell. It was the last week of the tour and after killing almost an entire bottle of whiskey we made a fatal error. The circumstances that led us to that error are blurry, blacked-out sentences in the story of my life. What I do remember has become my own personal hell that plays on a loop in my brain. 

The heavy motel door slams shut, the outside world ceases to exist as time stands still in some little town in Texas. Those tattooed fingers are dancing along the outline of my hip bones, my back pressed up against the cigarette stained wall. I’ve wanted this moment since we met, to feel his strong arms wrapped around me, to be the center of his attention and desires. And here we are, our lips inches apart, a hurricane about to make landfall. 

His hands glid up my bare skin, following the contours of my torso. A shiver goes down my spine and I feel my heart about to explode. “Kiss me” I whisper my breath catching in my throat. 

Our lips collide and I melt, surrendering myself completely over to him. I part my lips as he slips his tongue into my mouth, his nails digging into my pale flesh. There’s a roughness to it that drives me mad and I can taste the whiskey on his lips. 

He pulls me over towards the bed, falling on top of me as the bed creaks under our combined weight. His fingers lace in my hair before violently pulling it back. I let out a moan all the nerves in my body firing. He has complete control over me, I’m a puppet on strings. 

I tug at his belt, leaning up and whispering in his ear “I want to feel you inside me” I don’t care what the consequences are all that matters is this moment. 

He pushes me back, quickly standing up. My heart stops in my chest as he shakes his head, a disgusted look across his face. “Fuck” he breathes pushing his hair back. 

“W-What?”  “God, what are we doing? No... Andy, I’m not gay. I- fuck I’m drunk. Look we can’t do this, I’m not attracted to you and I’m sure as hell not gonna fuck you.” 

My heart shatters into a million pieces, this has to be a dream... no a nightmare and I will myself to wake up. Only I don’t wake up, “Ashley...” 

“Look I get it, you’re uh- you’re gay. I kind of always suspected that I guess. But I’m not and this isn’t going to happen. We’re bandmates, I’m your friend and we’re both just drunk.” I stopped listening to the words coming out of his mouth but the next thing I knew he was out the door, something about sleeping on the bus. 

We ended up doing the whole awkward day after ‘talk’. Let’s just forget about it, neither of us meant for it to go that far, we can just carry on as if it never happened. Bullshit. 

And now we’re here. It’s been a month since I’ve seen him, the longest we’ve ever gone since he joined the band two years ago. He stares at me, I guess expecting me to say something from this mutually agreed-upon script we’re supposed to be acting out now. Words fail me though, all I feel is the lump in my throat and it feels like it is suffocating me. 

“You’re taking care of yourself, right? You said you were going to get better about that. Cutting down on cigarettes and drinking, eating better.” I can’t tell if the concern in his voice is real or just for show. Did I even say that? Maybe I did, but I didn’t mean it. 

“I’m not going to drink this tour.”  “One out of three is better than nothing I guess.” he jokes, though I don’t think he believes me. 

“I uh- I’ll be back in a sec.” I manage to get out before brushing past him and away from the others. 

I barely make it into the bathroom of the studio before breaking down. Air is hard to find as I gasp for breath, the tightness in my chest getting so bad that I swear I’m going to pass out. I brace myself against the sink, my knuckles turning white from the death grip I have on it. Tears well up in my eyes before falling, mixing with the black shadow around my eyes into long black streaks down my face. 

There is no way I’m going to be able to do this tour sober, I don’t know why I’m fooling myself. I want nothing more than to be half a bottle deep in whiskey right now, all these fucking emotions shut off. Sliding down against the wall onto the tiled floor my head spins from the hangover and lack of oxygen which only increases the nauseous feeling in my stomach. I try to convince myself this is just another panic attack but the feeling of death is so real. I lean over the toilet, pushing two fingers back into my throat until I feel my gag reflex kick in. I throw up the little that’s in my stomach before leaning back against the wall. 

My hands shake and I’m unsteady on my feet as I push myself off the ground. I rinse my mouth out with water and try my best to wipe away the smeared makeup before walking back out to where the rest of my band is. They’re already practicing, the sounds of drums and electric guitars drowning out the sounds of my little breakdown. I try my best to force a smile and join in, but I feel disconnected from them, from the music, from life. 

We practice for hours, and I feel every second of it. While the rest of the guys talk about ideas for the tour I slip out the back. I light up the second I step outside, the nicotine calming my nerves instantly. I’ve smoked half the pack before I even realize it, but the health of my lungs doesn’t make my list of concerns. 

I listen to the sounds of the buzzing street on the other side of the building, closing my eyes as I try to find a moment of tranquility. 

“Andy we need to talk.” his cool voice says from behind me. Ashley walks over to face me, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter from me. I watch as he places one between his pale pink lips, the flame flickering in between the cracks of his cupped hand. 

A dirty little secret about Ashley, he’s known to smoke a cigarette or two whenever he’s stressed. He loves to preach about hating them, how disgusting and dirty they are but compared to the things he used to use it’s nothing. The thing about being so close to someone is you know almost all of their secrets, you’ve met all of their skeletons and Ashley has more than his fair share of them. So I let his theft slide. 

He blows the smoke out in a white cloud before sighing. “I told John that on hotel nights I’ll room with one of the other guys. I think it’s best that way.” 

I scoff, laughing at his feeble attempt to act like we’re not completely fucked. “Is it?” 

“I figured it would be easier for you.”  “Wow you’re so considerate” I reply, my voice laced with sarcasm. 

“Andy you said that we would just agree to forget about everything. Just be normal bandmates. I know you’re hurt but it’s just the way things are. Maybe it’s my fault, I let you believe there was something when there wasn’t.” 

Ashley was my lifeline when I moved here. A month of living in my car before meeting him and the others had taken its toll on me. I was on the verge of giving up and crawling back to Ohio with my tail between my legs. Then I met him and he showed me a warmth that kept me going. He was there the nights I broke down in tears, missing home and second-guessing myself. He was there when I needed advice, guidance, someone who I could trust. Even when I started drinking he was there, making sure I didn’t die of alcohol poisoning, pulling me together the next morning... and now it’s over. 

“I’m sorry for fucking things up. I just... miss what we had, friendship, whatever you want to call it. I’m drowning Ash.”  “I’m still your friend Andy. Don’t be dramatic, you’re twenty now you don’t need someone babying you.” 

My heart aches, I tried to fight it for so long. I tried to tell myself that it was hopeless to have these emotions for someone who would never want me the way I wanted him. I tried to convince myself that the truth wasn’t the truth, that I wasn’t madly in love with the man in front of me. I am in love with him though, and for a few moments on that fateful night, I thought he loved me back. 

“When I asked you to kiss me, why did you?” I ask bluntly. 

He is clearly thrown by the question, and the calm facade he is so perfect at maintaining drops for a second. Just long enough that I can see he is human, not some robot immune to emotions. “I don’t know.. maybe there was a part of me that wanted to try it, maybe it was because you asked. Maybe it was the whiskey.” 

I close the gap between the two of us, the smoke from our cigarettes mixing in the air. He doesn’t move back, just stares at me, his face once again expressionless. “And you felt nothing?” I whisper. 

“Nothing Andy.” We stand there, motionless in the cool Hollywood air. Kiss me, punch me, insult me, push me up against the brick and fuck me, do something. “Then I guess I’ll just forget about it,” I reply. 

He places the cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Goodnight.” he simply says before walking away. 

[melikeylikeyjimin]

Noir || One

(I don’t own this gif)

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Mafia AU! Sugar Daddy AU! Jungkook X Reader, fluff, angst.

Warnings: none yet

A/N: Hello! I’m here with the first chapter of my new series, Noir! I hope you enjoy it and look forward to the next chapters! If you’d like to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter of Noir, please DM me or leave a comment on this post! Thank you to anyone who I asked to read this before I posted it, I’m really grateful for your feedback on it!

Next Chapter ||

“When looking at these designs, you should be able to determine how the shadows of the piece create movement within the image.” Sitting with my head resting on the palm of my hand, the professor continues to talk about how each artist uses different forms of techniques to make movement throughout a painting.

The class drones on for what feels like forever. I don’t necessarily care for finding the deeper meaning in art, but art compositions is a required class. Not sure how art would help me in my future of being a doctor and helping others, but requirements are requirements. With the bell ringing, sighs erupted throughout the room as people heave their backpacks over their shoulders and leave the room.

Groaning I force myself up and walk towards the door. “Y/N!” Someone calls out my name and my head turns towards the origin of the voice. There stands Nicci, flailing around as she tried to get through the crowd of other students.

“Jesus, it never gets easier to get through these halls no matter what time of day,” she complains.

“Well, it doesn’t help that there happens to be a lot of art majors at our college, so the building is always filled.”

Her arm immediately intertwines with mine as she starts dragging me away from my classroom, “So, have you heard the tea?” As soon as I heard the word tea my attention was on Nicci. I didn’t live a very drama filled life so hearing other people’s drama was stimulating to me.

“Well, I heard from Katrina who heard from Joe who also heard fro-”

I cut her off, “Okay, I don’t need to know all the different people that know, just spill.”

“Well, you know that one girl from the business department Eunji?”

“Yeah, I share an economics class with her, why?” “Well, I heard she got some nasty STD from this guy she slept with!”

I wrinkled my nose at her words, “She didn’t use a condom or anything?”

“Apparently not.” I sighed, but what did I really expect, it’s college.

I felt an arm drape over my shoulder as the said person pulled me closer to them. “What inappropriate things are you telling my poor baby this time, Nicci?”

“Oh stop babying her Dylan, she’s an adult, not a kid! She knows what sex is!”

Dylan gasped as he covered my ears, “We don’t say that word around her!”

Nicci rolled her eyes and I moved to grab Dylan’s hands from my ears, “She’s right though, I’m not a baby.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved to grab my hand, “I should limit the time she gets to spend with you, she’ll corrupt you.”

Nicci glared at him, “It’s called having fun, you should try getting laid sometime.” Dylan and she argued back and forth as they usually did over me. I used to try to get them to calm down, but after many failed attempts I stopped trying and let them work it out. They reminded me of an old married couple who would squabble over the littlest of things but still made up in the end.

Dylan was and always has been protective of me since I got to know him. Nicci was the first friend I ever made here at college so she and I did almost everything together when it came to new experiences.

Having watched them argue for the past three minutes, I decided I’d step in as it was taking longer than normal to simmer down. I grabbed Dylan’s hand as he was usually easier to pacify, “Dylan, you said you were going to take me out for lunch, why don’t we go? You guys can continue your argument some other time, but I’m hungry.”

He sighed as his eyes softened and he nodded, “Alright, let’s go.”

Nicci scoffed, “Of course he’s a big softy for you…” Dylan gave her a hard glare as she walked away.

“Text me,” I shouted after her. She put an ‘okay’ sign up and maneuvered her way through the sea of people.

“Lunch?” I asked.

“Lunch,” Dylan confirmed.

After arriving at the fast food restaurant, Dylan went up and ordered the food as I sat at the table and waited for him to come back. I scrolled through my phone to quench my boredom and looked at some of my social media feed. Seeing nothing interesting, I locked my phone and put it face down on the table and watched as Dylan filled our drinks and was grabbing all the food. He walked back to the table and set the food and drink I ordered in front of me.

“You know you didn’t have to pay for my lunch, right? I could have paid.”

“You already have enough to worry about between tuition, rent, and feeding yourself, me buying you one meal won’t kill me.”

“Still, I feel bad…”

“Just eat.” I dropped the topic and took a sip of my drink.

“Are you free tonight?” He asked between bites of food.

I tilted my head, “Why?”

“Do you want to have a movie night, it could just be the two of us or we could see about inviting Nicci or Jisoo.”

“Hmm, I would love to but I work tonight.”

He gave a slight pout, “You always work.”

I smiled and pat his hand, “Gotta make money somehow.”

“Are you sure you’re doing okay? You’re able to manage work and school? Are you sleeping well? Are you still getting some free time?” Dylan fired question after question at me.

“You worry too much, Dylan. Of course, I’m okay. I don’t work myself to death, I promise I sleep well and I have free time.”

“Well, you just do so much that you worry me, Y/N.”

“I really do promise that I’m okay, Dylan. You’re just overly paranoid.”

“You would tell me if you needed anything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” We continued to eat in silence but it wasn’t awkward or anything. I crumpled up the wrapper that my food came in as I continued to just sip on my drink until Dylan finished his food. “What time do you work?”

“Three,” I answered.

“I’ll drive you.” I nodded. I normally would argue with him but I felt like we had done enough arguing over me as it was. I went and threw our trash away as he waited for me. We walked out of the door and walked to his car.

Sitting inside, he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you sure you can’t just call in?”

“I really need the money, Dylan. I promise we can some other time.”

He sighed, “Alright, alright, I’ll get off your back about it. But I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

An eight-hour shift was never something I enjoyed. Working at a cafe til almost midnight was also frightening. Walking outside at night as a woman was something that always spiked my anxiety.

Today’s work was slow. Normally there was a rush hour between six and seven but tonight, there was hardly anyone there. “Did you wipe down the tables?” My manager yells from the back room.

“Not yet! I’ll do that after I finish cleaning the counters!”

“Okay!” My manager and I were closing tonight and I just couldn’t wait to go home and lay in bed and watch some tv. I thought about taking a bath to relax since tomorrow was Friday and we didn’t have school on Fridays, but I think I’d pass out in the bathtub if I tried. I finished wiping the counters with the old tattered rag and moved to wipe down the tables as well. I was hoping that after I finished wiping the tables that Jennie would let me go home and she would lock up.

Almost as if my prayers were answered I heard Jennie shout again from the back room, “Good work today! Once you finish the tables you can go ahead and go home!”

“Okay, thank you!” I finished up and put the rag back in the sink where it would be cleaned by the morning crew. Luckily I had the next two days off so I could take it easy. “I’m leaving now!”

“Okay, love, be careful on your way home, I know it’s late.” I grabbed my stuff and walked out the front door, letting it jingle signaling I had left. My apartment wasn’t too far away from where I worked so it would be a short ten-minute walk to get there. I hated walking out here late at night, but I worked so I had to. With my hands in my pockets, I began to fast walk my way home. The sooner I got there, the safer I would be.

The silence from around me was deafening. There were no cars on the roads and the only sound was my shoes hitting the pavement. The streetlights that illuminated the sidewalk were dim and in need of new lights. I sighed as I hugged my jacket to my body. Whenever I walked home late at night, I would keep my phone open on this alert app that Dylan made sure I always had. If I hit a single button the authorities would be called to my location in case anything happened. Nicci always complained whenever he talked to me about it because she thought it was over the top and too much. I agreed that it was a bit over the top but I also don’t really want to say that and then have something bad happen to me and not be able to get help, so I use it.

I was two minutes from my apartment when I heard a scuffling sound of a can being kicked. I felt my heart stop for a second before it started to beat even more heavily against my chest. I held my phone close to me and made sure my finger would hover over the emergency button.

I wanted to look behind me so badly, but I knew I shouldn’t. I heard the sound again and I went completely rigid. I couldn’t help myself. I looked behind me and didn’t see anything. It wasn’t until I looked down around my feet and saw a cat. It’s fur colored noir and it’s green eyes watching me carefully. I let out a sigh of relief realizing that it was only a cat and not someone else. I let my finger leave the button and I huffed as I continued my walk home.

I walked up the stairs to my door and pulled my keys out, unlocking the door and letting myself in. Finally feeling safe, I slid down the door and let myself relax. After a bit, I moved and locked the door, checking twice to be safe.

Pulling my shoes off my feet, I set them by the door and walk through to my living room. With a groan, I let my body sink into the couch and I pull out my phone to make sure I text Dylan. He asked me to text him every time I leave work and when I get back to my apartment when I have a later shift. Hearing the little ping noise of it sending, I let my phone fall to the floor. I felt too lazy to move from where I was so I decided, might as well sleep on the couch tonight. Turning the tv on to a random channel, I let my eyes droop. Within a few minutes, my eyes close entirely and I fall asleep with the tv playing in the background.

[cowonaverse]

The Great Outdoors

Been thinking about this for a while, needed to process what’s happened.

Initially, like months ago when corona first reared up as a Thing to Contend With - the fear and panic was so strong that it pushed aside my depression and background anxiety completely.  I had something very tangible and concrete to Worry About.  Not only that, there was so much unknown that it seemed conceivably cataclysmic, like... it’s all over and done.  That is still in the mix of possibilities, but it’s much more of a mix these days and not so prominent a conclusion.  But still there.  

Anyway, in a home with another person freaking out who isn’t used to freaking out means managing his reactions first.  Securing the food supply seemed primary.  Starting to grow things at home seemed Important.  What I understand is that this is just seeking agency and control in a time of chaos.  But gestures matter, even to myself.  I am not afraid to do for myself if needed.  I grew up on my Grandma’s farm as a young teen.  I spent a summer as an intern preparing and maintaining bean cultivars for study at Tuskegee University.  I majored in Biology as an undergraduate at the University of Maryland Baltimore County.  I have graduate training within a laboratory setting and can pay attention to such needed details that establish and maintain living systems.

This is what I told myself, at least.  All this experience was well over 25 years ago and I’ve since lived as an artist, teacher and illustrator - basically another lifetime.  But I’m confident in my abilities to make - and make do - with my hands.  On the other hand, Saul is an architect.   He is a designer, not an implementer.   His training produces systems that others then render.  He knows how things should work and why things might fail, but it’s mediated through contractors and clients, and according to building code given to him.  There isn’t much tolerance for the scientific method of inquiry and curiosity, or artistic process.  The buildings have to stand and function, the first time, and every time.

So when confronted with chaos and systemic failures, Saul freaks out.  He was having regular, full-on panic attacks at first.  We fought and argued out of fear and then came back together, clinging again out that same fear.  

What I first recalled was my seventh grade science class, when we germinated beans in damp folded paper towels and then grew them to demonstrate basic botanical processes.  I suggested we go through the house for all whole seeds and try this to see what we can grow ourselves.  In retrospect, this is ludicrous.  Farming a few things from the spice rack is not going to sustain anybody, not to mention a household of two people and three cats.

But you have to recall the upheaval and urgency of those first few days.  Hunkering down and keeping busy with anything that seemed to suggest growth and tomorrow was vital, at least to me.  In some ways it was a relief to have to set aside my own neurotic issues to attend to these little mustard seeds and my partner and my cats.  And as the project grew and developed, this was the initial reward: Doing Something Intentional Towards Tomorrow was useful because it modelled the behavior of resilience and hope.  Even if it wasn’t actually practical, it was a rehearsal for a worldview concerned with survival.

I was still teaching students via online classes and it was useful to tell them what we were doing.  The narrative of growing things in the back bedroom was a good story, for the moment - for that very specific moment.

In the end, now, months later: we are participating in a local farm share with actual farmers who know what they are actually doing to produce actual food.  But by now I’ve learned to can and pickle and preserve things, I can bake and sew my own mask.  Here’s the thing: I dabbled in using my art to address my anxieties and it led me to gaining some small set of skills in a variety of projects.  Skills that now I can use For Real.  But what was always in question was who is it all for.  

What I’ve noticed, at least with Saul, is that he doesn’t initiate and get his hands dirty.  But.  Only at first, once I model behavior and demonstrate that there can be a pattern at work, a way of doing and understanding - then he is able to apply his considerable experience with systems and practicality to get it done right and better.  He saw me making and painting, fumbling around with my works and insights.  Then he tried it, made a body of work, participated in open studios, sold some pieces and was able to articulate his artistry in his own words.  I helped him with that, at first directly, then backing off and continuing on my own things but visibly now with him as a peer.

I started growing things and he looked at me doing that, saw it was possible and started doing it himself.  His plants are thriving and doing much, much better than mine.  I helped him with that when he finally wanted to try, he hasn’t done anything like this before in his life.  My earliest memory is reaching out to eat a cherry tomato in the community garden my parents participated in.  We talked about this while working together to sow some radishes he wants to grow. He said he thought he didn’t have a “green thumb” and avoided trying to grow anything.  His radishes are already out of the ground and happily thriving while mine have long since died off.

I have my accomplishments, but I have just as many failures.  I’m trying to be self-aware about what I’m doing and get help and training as I can.  It does help me feel better, day to day - but what I’m seeing is that it is helping Saul feel like he can do it too.  And when he does, he is actually really good at it.  He saw me sewing my fursuit and trying to apply that understanding to sewing my mask for covid.  A few weeks later, I’m helping him make them and his designs are better and neater and fit.  But I sat with him to go over the different options and we looked at the scientific papers about materials and filters and what covid is and how it works and what a filter is and how they work.  Like, we dug for the primary research.  He wouldn’t think to do that, but I’m not afraid of scientific papers and untangling technical things like that.  But he took all that understanding and made a better system of implementation than what I was able to do.  His masks are the ones we use, mine is an interesting sculptural piece and memento of this time.

My efforts to bake and can things worked at first, but the real success is that it prompted him to get involved and do it better.  What I made in the beginning functioned symbolically as self-sustaining, forward looking effort.  What he is doing now puts actual calories into the body better.

We fight over nuance that doesn’t matter, but the broad rhythm of collaboration has been that I do it first: I show that it’s possible which addresses his fear and pessimism, but then he gains confidence and does it better which addresses my impracticality and romanticism.

I am reminded of what I know to be the great biological divide between human beings: those able to tolerate ambiguity and those who can’t.  This is more fundamental than any other means of sorting and categorizing people.  Certain people have brains that light up for clarity and some light up for vagary.

This is the tension between staying in the cave and leaving the cave.  Speaking in prehistoric terms, the basic tension the human animal first knows upon becoming self-aware is how to deal with it’s own mortality.  Staying in the cave is the known quantity: it’s safe because there are no surprises, all issues are obvious and manageable and contained.  The problem of course is that the cave doesn’t have all the things you need to thrive.  Leaving the cave is the unknown quanity: it’s safe because you can be nimble and adjust freely, taking advantage of chance resources and opportunity.  The problem of course is that outside the cave are predators and dangers and the whole chaotic universe out to kill you.

My first inclination to grow food inside the house was basically Chris falling back to staying in the cave.  But as it turns out, plants still fail, the cat still gets in and trashes the crops, not enough light gets in, seeds are limited, resources run out, all manner of chaos still creeps in and undermines the effort.  So many stories have already been told about this.  Eden does not work, the perfect bubble world does not work.  The Island of Dr. Moreau is a horror story.  It is not particularly insightful for me to realize that locking things down to a controlled interior system is impossible or festering and that some tolerance for calamity has to happen for life to thrive.  I was worried about the New England weather wrecking things outside, but our radiator kicking on too high did the same thing.  I was worried about squirrels getting at our food, but our cat did the same.  I’m worried about advertising resources in a racist malignant society during the end times of social collapse and mass hunger, but our neighbors are also properly growing crops in their backyard as are many other houses on our street (and have for years), and our home is right up against an elementary school that also has a happy garden in view from our kitchen.

I was worried so much about the chaos outside that I was blind to the obvious truth that there is chaos inside as well.  The point is that it’s all part of the same messy thing.  Inside the cave and outside the cave are the same.  There is no inside or outside, and that is the point.  At least outside, the plants can get much more sun and so can I, the rain and weather are cooperating.  I had to learn that I don’t actually grow anything, the plants grow themselves, I just have to witness and shepherd that activity, but it’s already gonna do what it needs to do if I let it.

So much about art making seems to be about demonstrating control: over technique, over materials or concept, over a viewer or critic, over a political narrative.  But once you exhaust the resources in the cave, you have to go out and risk and be surprised and find new caves and new vistas and so on.  And it’s not because you know you’ll be safe, but because that is never possible to know.  What I’m learning is to go with another and to sincerely make that effort important and sufficiently rewarding itself.

It is just nicer now outside on the back porch.  The plants that were struggling inside are all booming now.  The wind is nice.  Seeing Saul’s plants pop up and surpass mine are nice.  It’s heading into summer and everything is warm and radiant.  I can hear sirens in the distance and the news is still the news and autumn and winter are right there on calendar, but I’m making my art, learning as I go.  I’m also aware that I’m not unique in any of this, other people have been doing this exact stuff and that’s comforting when I need to feel aligned with others and social.  When I need to look into myself and address my particular quirks I can do that too.  

 The food is better these days.  

[adambombvilivus]

Confession: I once broke into a friend’s house with malicious intent

 and it involved jelly sandwiches

Okay, so first off, I want to keep things vague and anonymous, since I don’t want this former friend to be connected in any way. Now, it’s been a good few years and more since this happened, but I’m still very paranoid and nervous and, as I hope you’ll understand from reading, traumatized from it. It was a pretty strange saga of events on my end so I would appreciate you read all the way through before judging me please.

To give the best background, I’ll start from the beginning of knowing this guy. We met in middle school, sixth grade I believe; we weren’t friends for about a year but we shared common friends and often sat together so we just got along in time, of course. This guy, this kid, seemed pretty normal in every way, for a middle schooler. Well, “normal” among my friends and I, but we were misfits who just gathered at our own spot since we didn’t really belong to a group identity. At least that’s how I saw it, but I don’t know what the rest of them thought. We got along pretty well, finding out we shared common taste in games and music and shows we liked, and he was one of those friends, I thought, you could always trust to be real with when needed. We weren’t best friends but he was cool when it mattered.

Okay so here’s what you’ll find weird, probably: every single day, without fail, I kid you not, all anyone ever saw this dude eat was jelly sandwiches(not even peanut butter & jelly, just jelly. I always assumed it was strawberry jelly, but I never asked). All he ever said about the sandwiches is that he really loved jelly and it was homemade. I would’ve thought that someone in the faculty or something would’ve stepped in, since I knew teachers knew about it and thought it was a bit strange and unhealthy too, but he claimed he didn’t mind it at all and he seemed in good health all the time, minus regular illnesses. Not that I mind jelly sandwiches, but personally, I can’t eat something every day for more than a couple weeks in a row without getting fully sick of it for a long time, but hey, everyone is different. Oh, and I nearly forgot to put it in here, but  he had mentioned the red room all the way back then, just a couple of times. Once or twice he brought it up in conversations where we were talking about making houses in The Sims games, and he said something about this “red room” in his house that he really liked. He never described the red room, because apparently it was one of those things that was ‘embarrassing to talk about at school’, but he said it was cool and I’d probably like it if I ever saw it.

I’ve never been good with locations and addresses, so it took me until midway through high school to find out from some random situation that he had been living only a few blocks away the whole time! Both of us had lived our whole lives to that point in these homes, so that was funny to me. Since we enjoyed a lot of the same games and I had never really hung out with anyone outside of school before, I thought it would be cool to just walk over to his house and hang out for a few hours and play stuff. He seemed fully down for it and after I told my mom where he lived, she was fine with me going (I was just only 16 and it was late in the year, so it was getting dark early). Getting to his house was easy since we would just go a certain way from school that I had never walked, but it was in the neighborhood and I knew the area. That first time hanging out at his home was awkward for me but nice; we talked more than I had anticipated, about a lot of things around growing up with divorced parents and annoying older siblings and all, while he showed me some of his collections. We played games on his GameCube which I had never tried before, and his mom offered to feed me dinner, but I politely refused since we were going to have steak at home haha.

I went home and had my dinner and said I had a nice time, and that was all, nothing strange that time. When I got into bed that night I kicked myself for forgetting to ask about the red room he had mentioned years ago! I only had that little bit more to make me want to hang out again and it could be another fun thing to do or talk about, so I figured I’d bring it up the next day. He seemed pleasantly surprised that I remembered it after the years and wanted to show me next week if I came over again. Jump to that next visit, walking to his house and all, mostly the same until we had a quiet moment, and the thought came back for me to ask about the red room. He perked up and said something like’ “ooooh..right! Yeah right down here”. Same door as any of the other rooms in his house, nothing strange from in the hall; I was nervous but excited, the way you would be at anything small and silly but with years of mild curiosity behind it.

Okay, pause for a second to imagine the weirdest thing, realistically, you’d expect to see from something called “The Red Room”. I’m expecting you’ll probably imagine, like I had, that his mom just had a room where the walls were red and everything was colored red and it was some kind of hobby or something, maybe with neat art inside or whatnot.

I promise you, this...was not that.

Seriously, what my friend did was open the door, lightly push it all the way open, and walk back to his room and shut his door back closed, all without a word, but I only ever thought about that fact in following years. What I did notice first, however, was naturally, the red, but I’ll give you extra context:

First: the room was totally empty. When I say totally, I mean totally. Not so much as a small piece of forgotten trash on the carpet. It looked like the barest room of a freshly built house.

Second, the room was just a square, just a box. No closet door or sliding door, just the four equal walls.

Third, maybe the strangest of these three: Never before had I seen a room in a home with neither windows nor power outlets, or a room light on the ceiling, I don’t think.

When I say this room was just four bare walls and carpet, that is not an overstatement in any way whatsoever. I just want you to know how serious I am about everything I say here, and it’s important you really take that in before you continue reading.

Now, for what I noticed first. This room, whose doorway I was only standing in, must’ve been called the red room because of the red lighting inside. I say lighting instead of light, because I feel that more accurately conveys that there were no actual lights in this room. It wasn’t red like from a lamp, not like a glow, but similar to the way a sunset can make the outdoors look completely orange. A subtle but sure red, that lit the room like  2 o’clock sun, but there was no window, and even if there was a window, this was during the winter where it gets dark by 6 pm. If you know me, you know I am a coward and so obviously, this is uncharacteristic of me to do, but I’m guessing that I was simply in shock from anxiety to walk away. I walked into the room and I heard this sort of strange buzzing. Putting my ear against the wall, I still heard the buzzing, not much louder, but also vague machinery noises. I’d think with all of the How It’s Made I used to watch, I’d have an idea of what I heard, but nah.

Now that I had a moment to let myself absorb the oddity of this place, I turned around, walked out of the door, closed the door in the most gentlest way, walked down the hall, downstairs, and out of the front door. Like my friend, I said nothing. I was too stunned to walk home fast, I think; I mean, I was traumatized from this. Maybe it’s silly, but I’m a coward. I can’t remember much else from that night since my mind couldn’t focus on anything else. I don’t think I told my mom about it. I don’t think I slept that night or was even able to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t scary but sometimes you just have an experience that just gives you a whiplash being what you are ready to process. I hope you understand.

Just so it’s out there, I’ll go into the boring bits that I’m sure you can infer. Of course I never spoke about it. It’s not like I saw a murder. A story of a weird blank room is one thing, but I can’t tell someone that a room was illuminated by some paranormal red lighting. Yeah, I’m serious and able to open up now, but some teenager isn’t going to feel secure with being as honest-to-god as they can be and being doubted and made to feel crazy. I was already quiet, called weird, not very socially secure my whole life, maybe you can relate. As for that friend and I, well I can’t remember exactly the way we were the next day, but I think it was something along the lines of him saying he hoped I had fun and acting totally normal as before. I didn’t mention the room. I didn’t mention the room at all to anyone since this. I never went back to hang out with him again and he never asked, to my relief every day. We stayed friends through school like normal, although I had the added gift of a little well of anxiety every time he approached our group, sitting down with us eating his jelly sandwiches and joking around about stupid shit that I hate myself for laughing at and saying back then. I think other people noticed me being a little more nervous and distraught than I had been before, but nobody, even at home, ever asked what was on my mind. Most days I had only one thing to tell them regardless.

That is just how it was for a couple of years until graduation. On the last day of school he randomly told me that he hoped we could stay in contact or hang out again sometime, and I just let out a “Heh, yeah that’d be cool yeah.”, but we haven’t spoken or seen each other again after that day. Maybe the odd text counts as communication, but it never held my interest. One time out of nowhere, he texted me a jar of jelly emoji, which I never responded to; only today did I check and noticed there is no jar of jelly emoji on my phone. Neither of us had moved for a few years, so the though of that house being so close to mine that whole time never stopped making me feel uneasy, especially when we would drive near or down his street, and my mom felt like asking about him every damn time for some reason, nearly giving me a panic attack each time. Maybe if I had went to therapy or opened up about it I could’ve started an adult life after graduation, but IMO, trauma never helps anyone grow into a stronger person. Others may be stronger than me in the first place to handle these things, but I’ve never felt that concept.

To jump back into the story though, it was about a year and a few moths after graduating high school. That night still haunted me and, I don’t know, it was just a strange week in my head. I had mustered up this idea to go back but I can’t imagine why. One day after driving down his street, I noticed that the cars at his house were gone from the driveway, and my mom mentioned to me that they had been for a while and they must’ve been on vacation, since nothing suggested that they moved out (their garage was always full of clutter and they never had parked the cars in there). The next day it just came out of my mouth to say that he texted me asking to hang out at his house and catch up from the years, since they just came home from vacation and he said that I would probably like to see some souvenirs he brought home. It was a good enough lie for the time.

I knew I would be breaking in, so I sneakily grabbed a hammer before I left the house just as it would be getting dark. I don’t know why I did any of this. I was haunted, traumatized, I didn’t feel like I could talk, and I sought peace and resolution so badly. I didn’t know where their family really was, but I figured, to hell with it, if the cops show up while I’m there, I’ll tell them to check out that room or I’d plead insanity or something; I spent the past four years or so being very depressed and fixated on this surreal memory, I didn’t really give a shit.

The walk to his house was a blur from being lost in my head, but I got there anyway. I put my hoodie up as cover, but that was about it. I know I wasn’t being discreet, but again, I didn’t really care. I only barely tried the front door, and of course it was locked, so I used my hammer on their window in the front of the house. I’ve always been weak, so it took me a few swings, and being louder than I should have, to get a break, but I did it. Maybe I was too numb to feel how sore my arms were. I cleared the spiky shards around the window and turned on my phone flashlight before climbing and stumbling into the house.

Being in the kitchen, it just clicked to me to think about his jelly sandwiches. Even by that point, that’s all I ever saw him eat. When I had looked back before, I never even saw anyone else in his family eat, but I was only there twice briefly so that never stood out to me. It was almost out of frustration or anger or spite that I wanted to find a jar of his jelly and smash it with the hammer or something, just as payback for the trauma I had been living with.

I opened their fridge to look for that fuckin stuff and I found it.

Yeah I found too much of it. I found a whole entire damn refrigerator full of red jelly. That is it. Same as the room upstairs was truly empty, this refrigerator was full of nothing but red jelly. I wasn’t horrified, I was disgusted. I took a jar out and set it on the counter. Homemade fuckin jelly. The cabinets? All jelly too. Every nook and cranny for where food should’ve been had homemade red jelly. I bet I didn’t even have to tell you that. Heck, did I see any bread for making sandwiches? No, not even a loaf of white bread. Maybe they took it with them to use while away. I think I can remember laughing that they still had standard junk and cutlery drawers, and beneath their sink had everything you’d expect as well. Like a cat, I just slid that jar of jelly off of the counter and watched it shatter. It just spilled out a little liquid, but mostly still gooped up like normal jelly. I was/am so angry that things weren’t weirder than that. Was I an ass for breaking in and being angry over a family that loves their jelly. They had a whiteboard in their kitchen for reminders and such(I saw it mentioned a vacation countdown), and I erased it fully before I took a marker, and I wrote, with much anger and shakiness in my hands, ‘Too much fuckin jelly. Eat something else besides fucking jelly! Fuck you, fuck your family, fuck your jelly, fuck your window, fuck this house, and fuck your fucking boring red room!’.

I dropped the marker on the counter and let out the breath I was holding in and breathed again. I stood there for just as long as I could while the anxiety crept in and I started to shake. Sometime during that standing I heard the creaking of floorboards from upstairs. I grabbed my phone before I even grabbed my thoughts, and thus it was another blur. As I made my way just a very short distance from the kitchen to the front door, I could clearly hear footsteps down the stairs. I do remember trying my best to be quick but also as silent as possible as I left through the door and leaving it wide open. I didn’t speed up my pace nor look back. I just walked home, quite similar to that last time, no more settled or at peace. I think that’s why I have to share the story now, because clearly breaking and entering didn’t help. I didn’t even have the guts to see that room again, and I’m sorry if you wanted to know if there was anything more to it. I got home and didn’t say much of note about what I was up to, or how I explained not being gone for much time, but nothing ever became of it. I never heard of a break-in report or anything. Moving away has been the biggest relief from that place I have ever had, and the only. The only evidence I have of any of this is just what I saw with my own eyes and have as memories. Sometimes you go through things that you just have to accept and live with because you’re a lonely person and are more used to facing loneliness than the pain of distrust and different looks. I just couldn’t stand the silent guilt anymore. I have been living with this experience, but it was hitting a point to where I didn’t want to live at all. I’ll certainly never be able to see a jar of strawberry jelly again without vomiting.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

COTW 18 - Full. Another chapter in which it was getting too long

Stress induced nosebleed, followed stress induced nosebleed over the next few days. Eren's nose had a mind of its own, though thankfully none of the subsequent breeds had been as bad as the first one. His omega had had his physical examination, coming out of that to one heading straight to the bathroom throw up, before refusing to talk about what happened in there. Levi hadn't met the police departments social worker before, but being an alpha didn't help the woman's case, despite her kind if not overly professional nature. While it was true that Eren's fear of male alpha's had grown so much better, the scents released by the woman in question were so strong to his omegas sensitive nose, that the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd flinched away. With only 3 full days left until the trial started and with two of them being the weekend, it was too late to find another social worker. He was worried enough for his omega, that he'd forgotten things could go from bad to worse with his mates mental state. Once again, he wasn't allowed to join Eren for his appointment in case he impacted on Eren's results, or tried to influence his mate's decisions. Nuzzling and kissing Eren's cheek, his mate was hesitant to let him go. Despite the fact he was dressed in one of Levi overly large shirts and his Paramedic jacket. When Eren was led away, it felt more like his mate was being torn from his grip. Eren was only gone from his sight for a short time before the social worker was opening the door and calling him down. Jogging down the hall, the woman stepped forward to stop him rushing into the room "We need a medic. I can't leave..." "I am a medic" Pushing past the woman, Eren was curled into a ball in the far corner of the sparse room. The examination was being held at the police station, already throwing Eren was out of his comfort zone, and the concrete walls of room were much like the rest of the station. Designed to be alienating and cause feelings of discomfort. Rushing over to his mate, his growl silenced the therapist and the social worker who were both whispering furiously over the examination "What the fuck did you do to him?" Whimpering and whining, Eren was continuing to attempt an escape "Eren. Eren its Levi. I need you to breathe for me" "You're not supposed to be in here!" The examiner was so fucking lucky he had his hands full with Eren. Placing his hands on Eren's face, his fiancée gave out a pained cry. His lips were moving, but nothing was coming out as he silently cried for help "Eren. You're ok. You're safe. They can't hurt you. I'm here. Listen to my voice" Kicking out at him, Levi copped it to the shin. Releasing the left side of Eren's face, he moved his mate's leg aside to kneel between them. With the way he was breathing, his mate was on his way to passing out, rather than calming down "I'm here. I need you to focus on me. Breathe for me. Come on. In through your nose" He wasn't getting through at all. Leaning in, he guided Eren to his neck. His omega trying to shove against him, while Levi held him firm "Shhhhh. You're safe. You're in a safe place... shhh, I've got you. I've got you, brat. No ones going to hurt you... I've got you" Rocking Eren, his mate let out a strangled kind of whine before his whole body went through the motions of sobbing, without the sound. His breaths falling as a whimpering pant of pain. Crooning softly, Levi rubbed his mate's back "I'm here. I'm here, my omega" He failed to anchor Eren and calm him down, his mate slumping in his hold and falling still. Repositioning Eren into his lap, he tapped his face gently. Yeah, there was no way the examination was continuing today "Mr Ackerman?" "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Depression. Anxiety. Not only that, he's 5 months pregnant. I know both of you are trained to recognise the symptoms of the onset of a panic attack. How could you let things get this bad so fast? The moment he started exhibiting symptoms, you should have paused the evaluation. What did you say to him? What could possibly so important that you needed to push him to the point he couldn't respond?" Glaring daggers at the pair of morons who'd done this to his mate, he snapped when they took too long to answer "Well!? What do you have to say for yourselves?" "Eren became non-responsive during questioning over his childhood" "Non-responsive. Non-reposive or non-verbal? There's a big difference between the two of them" The therapist in charge of the examination let out long breath. Like the man was doing anything strenuous enough to warrant breathing "He was able to provide clear answers to the initial questions over his identity, however once we moved to establishing his childhood, he became agitated, before signing your name. Explaining to him that you couldn't be present due to the nature of this appointment, I felt it was fine to continue with the line of questioning" "You were warned about his health when we arrived here" "The specifics of which were withheld for a clear and fair assessment of his mental state" "Well here's what you wanted, he watched his father kill his mother. He watched two alpha's he thought he could trust kill his brother, after they had their way with him. He had a complicated first pregnancy, and even more complicated one this time around. This is why the social worker was supposed to be on his side to prevent something like this happening" In his arms, Eren let out a low gasp, his mate struggling slightly before burying his face against Levi's chest "L...Lee?" "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe" Letting out a low whine, Levi moved to gather him up. Now the social worker decided to look appropriately worried "Has he come too?" "Yes, and now I'm taking him home. He's not able to answer any of your questions like this" "I've called for an ambulance..." "He doesn't need an ambulance" "For our records, he needs to be seen" "You do realise I work with, or know, whom ever it is that is going to respond. They will the same thing I am saying. He needs to go home and he needs to rest! Oh... fuck" Eren's nose was starting to bleed again... "Eren, I'm going to move you up to sit in the chair. I'm not leaving you, ok? I'm right here" Sitting Eren up, his mate wouldn't look him in the eye. With a wad of substandard paper against his nose, he kept his gaze at his feet. Floch was now hovering, as they waited for the paramedics. The medical officer assigned to the police station knew him, declaring himself useless as Levi had the situation in control, before kindly fucking off like Levi wished the others would. Erwin was the one to take the call, shadowed by two of his students. It wasn't how he wanted Eren to meet his students, not that he wanted them to meet him at all. It was hardly impartial, Erwin having them write up Eren's stats and patient form, while hovering in the corner with his arms crossed. The only variation on his diagnosis and treatment of Eren's panic attack, was that they recommended a trip to hospital given his pregnancy. Eren declined with a shake of his head, the students turned to Erwin for confirmation. Erwin agreed with them, but left the decision to Levi, who decided it was time for Eren to go home and rest where he felt safe. Carrying Eren out, his mate kept sighing every few steps. Letting out an even louder sigh as Levi opened the car door for him. Sighing back, Eren frowned at him "Are you going to talk to me, or keep sighing?" Eren huffed "The silent treatment... I see how it is" Settling his mate down, Eren shook his head "Oh... you know you can use your words. You can tell me anything, Eren" Shaking his head, Eren started to sign at him "I don't think I can do this" "Hey. You can" "They wanted to know about dad" "Yeah. He said as much" "It hit me all at once. And..." He waved his hand at his throat "Alright. I understand. You just rest, when we get home, I'll run you a bath with all the oils and salts you want" "Don't you have work?" "I start at 7. It's overnight to night" "You're still not talking to Erwin?" "I'm not ready to" "I think you should" Leaning in, Levi kissed Eren's forehead "We'll talk about it when we get home" "Lee. You don't have many friends. I don't have the energy to stay mad. I'm going to slap him..." Eren's hand movements increased. He hadn't realised his mate had put time into learning more sign language along the line "Slow down. I'm rusty here" "I'm going to slap him. But I want you to make up with him" "What are you, my mum?" "I'm just your mate" "There's no just about it. You're my mate and I'm sorry you had to go through that" "Take me home. I want to cuddle" "And you're not going to tell me the rest of what happened in there, are you?" "No. It was just dad" "Ok. Next stop is the apartment" Eren fell asleep on the drive home, his mate's face still too pale for his liking. Carrying his lover up to their apartment, he couldn't help but be angry over what had happened. Yes. Grisha was a piece of shit who'd turned tail over some bullshit about protecting Eren and Zeke, but Eren hadn't known anything about it. He'd thought his father had just abused him and abandoned him. Grisha was sure to come up in the trial, but there had to have been a way bringing it up much more gently. Letting them in, he narrowly missed knocking Eren's head on the doorframe. Hanji was looking after Viren, and would be dropping him and Anna home on her way in to work, leaving them with the whole apartment to themselves... and Titan. The cat in question was laying on his back on the sofa, snoring his head off and not giving two shits that they could be breaking in. Kicking the door closed behind him, his efforts to leave Eren sleeping were ruined by the sound of door slamming slightly. Whining at him, confused eyes met his "You fell asleep during the drive. I didn't mean to wake you" Closing his eyes again, Eren was adorable as he nuzzled into him "Let's get you into that bath. I can wash your hair for you" Nodding, Eren gave a sleepy purr. He didn't expect a purr, but he'd take it and the feelings behind the sound. A snuggly Eren was a nice change from an Eren so stressed he was jumping over everything. Getting them stripped and into the bath, he washed Eren down before starting to fill the tub. His omega so tired he'd wet himself when Levi had set him down on the toilet. Climbing in behind him, he wrapped his legs around Eren's, pulling his mate down so his head rested on his shoulder. Nuzzling Eren's hair, he let his hands slide over Eren's swollen belly. Their next ultrasound was coming all too soon. Floch had said the witnesses would be testifying before the evidence was presented, with the idea being that the witness testimony would be forgotten by the jurors. Moaning softy, Eren placed his own hands over Levi's "Don't worry. I won't do anything, but I love the feel of your skin beneath my fingers, and I love this stomach of yours. I know things are shit at the moment, but this makes me so proud. You. Beautiful and pregnant like this as we make our family bigger. No matter what happens, you're my mate. No matter what anyone says or does, you're my omega. And the mother to our pups. The only mother they could ever want or need. You're so amazing, Eren. You might have had a tiny set back today, but now you're laying here and letting me hold you. I love you" Reaching up, Eren bopped him on the nose, before cupping his right cheek so he could kiss the left one "I know. I'm an old softy. If you sit forward, I'll wash your hair" Wriggling forward, Eren whined at him when he moved his hands off the omega's swell. Kissing along the curve of Eren's neck, his omega whined at him "Ok. Ok. I'll wash your hair. You're such a brat" Eren purred up a storm as Levi washed his hair for him. Relaxing back against him, kisses were pressed to his cheek as his hands were moved back to Eren's stomach "More belly rubs? I can't wait to start feeling them... I wish I could right now" Drawing on the back of his hand, Eren traced out the word "soon" "Yeah. We should probably finally look at what needs to be done in your old room to make it Viren safe, and move your things into mine. It's going to be awfully crowded in here. You. Me. Viren. These two little ones, and Titan. It's going to be a very full house" Wriggling away from him, water was sent everywhere as Eren turned to look at him "Safe" "What do you mean? Are you wondering if it's going to be safe? Or you want to stay here because it's safe?" "Here is safe" "I know. I was just thinking out loud" "Do you want to leave?" "Leave?" "Here?" "Not at this very moment. But I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind about the lack of space here. Come back here, you don't need to worry about it. That's what I'm here for" Eren's frown deepened, he mate moving further away. Grabbing his arm, he pulled back to him "When you get old, all you seem to do is think. Things are fine the way they are, and I want you in my room... our room. I can see if we can get the doors swapped, so you'll be able to lock the door to our room when you need to... and we can make space to move all your things back in... and turn our bed into a nest... with all the blankets you want" He may be slightly scrambling to un-upset his mate. Eren still not looking happy "We can start when we get out. I promise" Huffing, his mate signed at him "I don't want to think about leaving this place" "I know you love it. I didn't mean to upset you" "I'm sorry. I think I need a nap or something" "Eren, you don't need to be sorry. I was just... I was thinking out loud. I should have kept my mouth shut" "No" "Yes. You're upset enough as it was. I let your purring go to my head. I've missed the sound of your happiness" God. He was going from bad to worse. Eren looked ready to cry "Not that you're not happy! No. I'm fucking this right up. What I'm trying to say is, I'm a shitty alpha. We were supposed to be cuddling and relaxing, and I fucked it up. God. Ok, I'm going to shut up now" Leaning in, he thought Eren was going to hit him. Instead his mate kissed him, before flicking him in the middle of the forehead "I deserved that" Nodding, Eren made towards getting out. Letting his mate figure out the best way to get out without slipping, Eren held his hand out to him once he was out "I'm allowed out?" Rolling his eyes, he shook his hand, Levi taking it "I don't deserve you" From the bath, Eren let him wrap him up in a thick green towel. Covering himself, he took his mate's hand again, supporting him across the wet floor and to their room. Drying his omega down, he grabbed Eren some sweats and shirt. Ignoring the shirt, his mate wiggled his way into his sweats before claiming Levi's side of the bed for himself. It only took a few moments before Eren was asleep, Levi sighing to himself quietly as he covered his mate with the closest blanket. He didn't know if he was supposed to stay? Or if he was supposed to go now that Eren was dressed and sleeping... He had a bathroom to clean, but Eren would probably be plagued by nightmares... and he had a shift to get ready for. Despite having just fallen asleep, Eren came padding out their bedroom half an hour later. Levi sitting on the sofa with Titan as his mate walked over to him. Sinking down, Eren wrapped his arms around him, dissolving into tears as he did "Nightmare?" Shaking his head, Eren pulled back enough to sign "I'm sorry we fought" "Oh, brat. That wasn't a fight, and it's not worth these tears" "Please don't leave me" "I'm not leaving you alone. Think about it, in just over a week, I'll be home all the time. I'll be around so much you'll be sick of me" "Dad left" "Eren, the only good thing that man ever did was creating you. He was a coward who's lies cost people dearly. You're strong and you have a strong sense of justice. I'm not leaving you" "I feel like worse is coming" "I don't know. But we've got each other, and Viren" "He's going to hate me" "He's not going to hate you" "I can't speak" "Eren, we both know it's not permanent. You're stressed, and tired, and exhausted, and you smell like you're trying to go into heat again. It's all a bit much right now, but with a good nights sleep, you'll feel better. By the time Hanji drops the kids off, it'll be bed time. Which means, I want you to sleep. I'll be fine at work. I always am" Eren had been sopping wet with slick as they'd bathed, but the smell of fear and distress had covered the scent of heat. With that washed away, his natural scent was overriding the scents of jasmine and strawberries from the bath salts. He really shouldn't be surprised. It'd been Grisha and Zeke who'd taught Eren heats were wrong. Yet it was Grisha who'd really instilled the fear over being an omega... If Eren couldn't find his voice before the trial started, he'd ridiculed over his silence "Erwin?" Pulled from his thoughts, he pushed down his jealousy over Eren mentioning Erwin "No. He's on a different shift rotation" "You should talk to him" Reaching out, Levi wiped at Eren's tears "You worry too much. I want you to be selfish. I want you to put you and our pups first. I want you tell me what you need" "You" "You already have me, and you don't need to worry. I was never mad at you. It wasn't a fight. It's time to go back to bed" "I don't want to go. I want to stay with you" "We have time before Hanji drops the kids off. I'll stay until she does" "And then I'll close my eyes and when I wake up, you'll be gone" "I'll be back just before 8 tomorrow morning. Then we can go out? We can go have breakfast?" "I..." Eren bit his lip, before looking away "You don't want to leave the apartment?" "It's stupid" "It's like you said. It all hit you hard. I'll bring home breakfast. I'll even buy you one of those ridiculous concoctions people try to pass off as coffee. With all the cream and sprinkles you want" "You don't need to buy me anything. I don't deserve anything" "Hey. I'll get myself the same thing, so this could be your only opportunity for revenge" "I don't want revenge" "Think about it. I'll pick up whatever you want" "Anna likes muffins, but Viren prefers cupcakes" "You're thinking about the kids. I asked what you want" "I want you to come home safe" "I'm going to do just that. I'll be waiting for your answer" "Ok" "Good. My sweet omega... that reminds me, I need to check the mail on the way out" Eren raised an eyebrow at him "What's that for? Are you expecting something?" Eren nodded at him. That wasn't all that surprising. Eren had become adept at online shopping which was perfect. He had the independence of going shopping and buying the things he liked, even on the days his anxieties were giving him hell "Well, I'm sure it'll still be there when I head down to the lobby. Now, its bed time" He felt like he was talking to Viren. Viren didn't love bed time, unless their son was absolutely exhausted before hand, it meant a dozen trips back to his bed, to get him to stay in bed. Now Eren was pulling the same stunt. They were running out of time, when the trial started, rest would be the furtherest thing on Eren's mind. * Eren was still frustratingly mute as the weekend passed. He'd tried to find his words, yet each thought of facing Nick and discussing his relationship with his father, left him feeling like his throat was wrapped in thorns. It felt as if they'd stitched his vocal cords closed, so that he'd never utter a words against them. His lungs felt like they were stuffed with dead flowers, unable to take a full breath, they seemed to creak and crackle if he tried. Floch was furious at him over it, and Levi furious at Floch. An interpreter had to be sought out, though they were appointed by the court, so things shouldn't be too hard in that respect. He didn't know, but he didn't have to go into the courtroom and listen to the opening stuff. Witnesses weren't allowed into the trial until after they'd given evidence, even then, he was sure he didn't want to be there. He didn't want Nick to get away with anything, but how was he supposed to hold his fear back? Floch had pretty much stated that his breakdown with the therapist was a blow to their case. It made him seem childish and sullen. He didn't want to be childish and sullen. He wanted to be strong like Levi was. Sitting on their bed, he was staring down the gift he'd ordered for Levi. It was two wolves, or their heads at least, that were on necklaces. It was some cheap thing, make from a cheap metal, but when he'd seen the interlocking necklace he'd wanted it. Levi was his alpha, while he was the omega. Two parts that were supposed to come together to make a whole "What are you looking at?" Dropping half the necklace on the floor as he jumped, he stupidly lunged for it, forgetting about his swollen belly. Squashing his stomach, and straining his back, he was no where near reaching the necklace half when Levi calmly walked over and picked it up "It's a wolf. Did you buy this?" Nodding at his alpha, he held his hand out so Levi could drop the pendant back into his hand. Placing it on his left hand, he aligned the second piece "That's pretty cool" Tapping on the silver wolf, he then pointed to Levi "It... sorry, I don't get it" Placing both pendants on his knees, he signed "I bought them thinking of us" "You bought them for us?" Levi sounded unsure "You're my alpha. Like an alpha wolf. Alpha and omega" Levi reached out and ruffled his hair "They're great. Which ones mine?" "Silver. Like your eyes" "And bronze like your skin?" Eren nodded at him "Do you mind?" It was Eren's turn to be confused. Picking up the bronze wolf, Levi unclipped the parrot clip "Could you lift your hair?" Oh. Oh. His mate actually liked his gift? He was worried Levi would find it stupid. Lifting his hair, Levi slipped the necklace around his neck, clipping it in place "I can't be up there on the stand with you, but think of this wolf, and think of those rings on your finger, and know I'm right there with you" Kissing the top of his head, Levi gave him a gentle smile as he took his own necklace and put it on "I should get us another set chains for these. I don't want to risk losing it. There. Does it look ok?" Eren nodded quickly. The silver wolf was the perfect choice for his alpha "Good. I wasn't sure about them" "Eren, they're perfect. You're perfect. I know you're scared about today, but everything will be over before you know it" "I feel stupid that my voice didn't come back" "Eren, it's ok. They have your statements. It's been entered into evidence. The jurors will read your words. They well see what those shitty arseholes put you through. They're going to know and they're going to make the right decision. You've done the right thing. You haven't said anything on social media. You haven't caused a scene or made a huge fuss out of it. You tried to get on with your life and was dragged back into the because a shit for brain pig had a little power and thought he could lie his way out of this. Now, I'm going to get dressed and then we'll head down there" "I don't know if I can do this. I feel like I want to scream, or vomit, or faint..." "I wouldn't recommend doing any of that. I'm leaving my phone home, are you?" "Yeah. I don't want anyone taking it off me. I've got stuff on there that can't be replaced" Photos and videos of Levi and Viren together. Photos with the kids. Photos and videos of Viren's birthday. Videos of him and Levi not wanting to get out of bed. All his other photos were in boxes at Hanji's still. Viren had gotten into them and damaged more than just a couple, so for now, they were safer at her house "Everything's going to be ok, Eren. Don't forgot that" * The courthouse was huge and smelt of stale water. It was the kind of huge that felt pointlessly so, yet, people were everywhere. All doing all different things he'd never be able to imagine, and things he'd never be smart enough to do. Floch had met them at the front of the courthouse, talking at them a million miles an hour until Eren wasn't sure which way was up. He felt nauseous beyond belief, and way under dressed. None of his nice dress shirts covered his stomach properly, so he'd been forced to wear an overly feminine shirt that mean him feel emasculated. It felt like he was hiding behind his dynamic, but he hadn't even thought about trying to find a suitable shirt for court. Separated from Levi, he was lead to a small room. With a guard at the doorway, he was too nervous to even ask if he could go to the bathroom. Floch had said if he didn't fuck things up, he wouldn't have to come back unless there was a need for it. All this stress for one afternoon was insane... Without a clock in the room or his phone, he had no idea how long he'd been left there for before he retrieved... and confusingly led back to Levi. He hadn't even had to take the stand and he felt like he'd run a marathon. Standing next to him, Floch looked annoyed "It's alright. They've had to move witness statements to tomorrow morning..." That wasn't alright at all... moving to Levi's side, his mate wrapped his free arm around him. Kissing his cheek before continuing "... something about paperwork or something" Nodding, he wondered why the fuck he'd been left alone for so long "I think it's time we head home for now. Floch, is there any reason I can't take him home?" "No. You'll need to be here by 8am tomorrow morning. If you approach the front reception, they'll direct you to where you need to be. Let's pray that you've found your voice again by tomorrow" Even if Floch was angry, he didn't have to take it out on him "Eren, let's go" Leaning heavily on Levi, he was blinded by camera flashed as the slipped out the courthouse. Knocked back into the closest glass window, he yelped at the painful elbow blow he'd taken. Clutching his stomach, he hunched over in pain, the shock greater than the radiating throb. Dropping his head, he felt like he was the one to blame for small accident "Hey! What where you're going!" Looking up, he found himself gazing into the cold eyes of Nick. The piece of shit he was supposed to be testifying again "Sir, we need to go" Nick looked him up and down, his top lip raising into a sneer "Watch where you're going, you disgusting waste of space" Walking away from them, Eren was shaking from the incident as Levi tried to take his attention from the man "Eren?! Eren, what's wrong?" Shaking his head, he needed a moment. The pups were going crazy, they'd been doing so all morning "Eren?" Holding up a hand, Levi stopped questioning him as Eren slowly realised there was no way it could have been an accident. The man had elbowed him straight in the stomach. They were clear of the doorway, nearly at the edge the top step. He'd stumbled back... Nick knew who he was and he'd intentionally "attacked" him. He'd tried to rattle him. If Levi knew, he'd lose it at him. Dragging himself up, he rubbed as his stomach "Eren? You ok?" Nodding, he let Levi pull him back against him. Opening his mouth, he tried to make the words work, but nothing wanted to come out "Did you trip? Or did someone knock into you?" He shook his head, then nodded "Someone knocked into you?" Nodding again, Levi let out a low growl "That's it. We're going home. I'm sorry I didn't notice it happen" Levi had his hands filled with Viren as it was. He didn't blame his mate for not noticing. Guided away from the swarm around Nick, Eren couldn't breathe. He kept vomiting into his mouth. His body was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and keeping upright after seeing Nick delighting in his pain, was hard work. He had no idea how he was supposed to take the stand tomorrow. Or how he was supposed to make his ultrasound appointment. This ultrasound was supposed to a little cooler than the normal ones as it would make an actual model of their pups. He could see their tiny faces and fingers... and it'd been hard to make an appointment for it. He doubted they'd just let him get up and leave mid-testimony. Even if he was stuck mute at the moment. Especially when Nick was more than happy to come after him, in front of the media and the police. Any number of cameras could have caught the exchange, and he was lucky the man didn't have any kind of weaponry on him, or he'd be dying on the pavement rather than being in Levi's arms. He'd known this trial would be dangerous... Looking to Viren in Levi's arms, tears rushed to fill his eyes and spill down his cheeks. There was nothing stopping them from coming after his boy. Nothing stopping them from taking him away. Ignoring the pain, he reached for Viren. Lifting his son into his hold and burying his face against his hair. He smelt so much like Levi, that he himself believe the boy would be an alpha. He was fierce and brave when he wanted to be, or so very soft and timid that he was almost a different child. His laughter was infectious, as was his cheeky smile. He didn't want him mixed up in this. He didn't want that smile to fade and his little heart to be broken. Or, even worse, he didn't want his son to be broken and hurt. Reaching the car, he fussed over getting Viren into his car seat, before climbing up to sit in the back. If he Levi had asked, he wouldn't have been able to find the right words over how much he needed Viren right then. Luckily, Levi didn't ask. His mate not burdening his already thinning frame with burden of guilt. In all actuality, Levi probably hadn't even thought twice about it, his alpha being able to read him like a book. This whole case was about omegas and their children... like him, and Viren was his son. He wouldn't let Nick have his way, and he wouldn't let Viren carry the weight of his sins, like Grisha had done to him.

[tumblunni]

Oh fuck i cant stand this

Ive already almost used up my damn mobile data again and i only bought it yesterday. Fuck i want to go home. You guys are like the only comfort i have here and i dunno what im gonna do when i cant message you again

Fuckin hell stupid shit day! I was supposed to go to a therapy class thing today but the stupid bus went past where my abusive father lives and i had a MASSIVE FREAKOUT and had to go home and then ofcourse to go home you have to go back on the stupid same bus!! I fuckib failed and wasted the doctor's time and he had to grab me to stop me from running off the bus crying and back to fuckin hell dad's house because im shit and i deserve everything he ever did to me

AND THEN fuckin same doctor continues the relentless constant tide of everyone misgendering me and making crass transphobic jokes

"You see you've gotta understand the other opinion" he says, as if trans people werent fuckin raised SURROUNDED by cis people's predjudiced opinion of us and taught it was fact. As if it didnt take me SO MUCH WORK to even become confident enough to stand up for myself! I've gotta see the 'other opinion' that "yknow well families and children use public bathrooms and theyre scared trans people will molest their children so its understandable they want to kick you out or even act violent to you". Yknow the OTHER OPINION that MY OPINION DOESNT MATTER and also MY ENTIRE EXISTANCE IS A CRIME but i'm the one being predjudiced for not accepting that OPINION, right?! Im here trying to tell him that no that isnt rational because there have been LITERALLY NO RECORDED CASES of trans people molesting children in public bathrooms, or even "evil men faking being trans" to do the same thing. There's been more cases of actual cis men breaking into women's bathrooms to drag women out for merely LOOKING trans. More cis women have been harassed because of anti trans laws than they ever did before! But hey "respect that other opinion", right? And also "at least its not as bad as russia" and "but gay pride is everywhere now, that one footballer had rainbow shoelaces." Hey wow i never noticed that not only was homophobia totally over but also transphobia was remotely related to that! Wow! I seriously had to bring out the fuckin 1600s historical investigation on pre-british olde englishe that showed the existance of a gender neutral pronoun before the word "he" ever existed, and the existance of transgender pride and pronoun discussions in the 1800s before the word transgender was even popularized. I cant believe i fuckin had to do a 'show your sources that queer people existed before the internet' IN REAL LIFE. WITH A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL. I can point at the damn NHS website but nooooo!

Oh and yknow what got me the most? YKNOW WHAT GOT ME THE MOST?? "We have sick people here, you cant expect them to remember stuff like that. Dont ruin their recovery by bringing up stuff like that." Like..fuckin..IM A FUCKIN PATIENT TOO. I wasnt even asking the other patients to stop hurting me i was asking you the staff to maybe consider it! And seriously you want me to be so super ultra perpetually prepared and perpetually rational and able to keep my existance secret and out of every conversation yet theyre too ill to learn about lgbt people existing? Just a sentence would be too painful? And me living every day being misgendered doesnt impact my ability to recover at all, eh? Fuckin shitting fuck hell.

And i hate it i HATE IT because he's being nice so i'll be the bad guy if i complain. Likehe fuckin..doesnt even know he's being rude and doesnt want to consider the idea. He says 'i dont like your tone' if i suggest the concept and FUCK in that moment i was so fuckin scared he was gonna hit me like my dad did. Or at tge very least kick me out of the hospital if i dont cooperate with him. He just fuckin..thinks he's perfectly unbiased and accepts everyone and "oh but i like to make fun of everyone equally". And i even fuckin raised the subject that people who say that often only make fun of minorities and never themselves, the majority, or major power structures. And he's just like 'yeah yeh i hate people like that'. Whoosh. Rigjt over the head. God i wasnt even TRYING to be passive aggressive i was trying tk outright tell him why what he said was upsetting me but NOPE. Trying to explain how its just so hard and tiring to have to verrrrrry patientlyyyyy explain yourself to EVERYONE EVERY DAY CONSTANTLY while they sling loads of rude words at you and it should be just allowed because they 'dont know better'. Like you ask me to educate you but at the same time im rude if i actually tell you?? And god i also tried to explain how the fuckin bathroom violence thing isnt an example of 'educating another opinion' AGAIN by saying like... If someone just asked me to explain being transgender i would. If someone just said they were uncomfortable i would leave. That's 'another opinion'. Reacting with slurs and violence to a trans person existing and not doing anything to you is not 'another opinion' and its not someone who 'just didnt know'. He was seriously trying to argue that it WASNT BIGOTED it was just someone rationally being afraid for their children because of a danger that doesnt exist, and rationally reacting with extreme violence rather than doing anything else. Rationally. RATIONALLY. oh just MISTAKENLY committing a hate crime! Cos they just didnt know trans people exist! Not cos they hate us! Oh no! Yeah sure we totally have a fucking DUTY to educate these POOR UNKNOWING PEOPLE while theyre attacking us, and its our damn fault if we didnt...

And just fucking FUCK i hate how someone can say all that stuff and still be "nice" and still not hate me personally? Like its so messed up?? He's not anti trans or anything he just has so much more damn sympathy for cis people than trans people, and puts all the onus on us to somehow prevent our own murders. And he thinks that "i dont have a problem with trans people" means doing LITERALLY NOTHING to change your behaviour to make trans people feel accepted. They should just magically know that your jokes are jokes when theyre surrounded by so many people saying it honestly, in CONSTANT FEAR OF THAT EXACT THING LEADING TO VIOLENCE. And like in order to be "a guy who has no problem with trans people" he has to do nothing, while in order for me to be not bigoted against HIM it means i have to never get offended by his jokes and also never talk about myself and also constantly educate him about things because he doesnt want to learn, even though he works in a hospital thats supposed to have an anti discrimination policy. Like fuckin just NOT HURTING LGBT PEOPLE doesnt make you discrimination free, shit like telling me to misgender myself because my pronouns would confuse the other patients is kinda fuckin fucked up. Also "that's a question for later" is all i CONSTANTLY get when it comes to talking about legal name changes or therapy or even just talking to an lgbt support group. I have to wait until i stop being depressed because oh no im talking about too many mental illnesses at once. Its been seven years and i havent fuckin stopped being depressed, bitch! Ever consider a fuckin symptom of gender dysphoria is a big ol fat depression!!! And just gahhhhh he was so fuckin baffled and angry that i would dare to get emotional about the subject?? Like he just saw DEBATING WHETHER TRANS PEOPLE ARE REAL and WHETHER PEOPLE WHO MURDER THEM FOR USING THE BATHROOM ARE JUSTIFIED as a perfectly normal casual discussion that a Non Transphobic Man could have with his transgender friend. Why oh why would i cry about this casual hypothetical discussion? Hey its not like it fuckin affects me directly! "Well its never happened to you right?" A Ha Ha Ha Ha. Also fuckin "so which bathroom do you use?" and "well you're not really transgender if youre not getting the surgery-oh wait you do want the surgery? How does that work then?" I swear i could just see the gears turning in his head and he was about to say "do you want both down there". Gahhhhhh *cringes myself into a tiny tumbleweed and blows away*

Also the entire time he kept calling being trans a sexuality and also asexuality. "No youre not trans youre asexual right?" Yeah sure ive just been saying im trans and saying im not a girl and wearing a chest binder and talking this entire conversation about my experiences as a trans person in public bathrooms just to pull an elaborate prank on you. And like i know what he meant is that he thought the word for nonbinary was asexual (has asexuality REALLY made so little progress towards getting into the sex ed curriculum in the entire 25 years of my life?) But like seriously he was like "youre not really trans if youre nonbinary". And then fuck dude i dont wanna explain how surgery works to you!! And especially not also my entirely unrelated sexuality that has entirely different equally upsetting predjudices!

Ans gahhhh fuck i just got no sympathy for crying and he acted as if it was just some wildly unexpected occurance he never could have predicted. And i hate it cos he's nice to me whenever the subject is about anything else. I cant get any symoathey from ANYONE because he's A NICE GUY and why dont i just understaaaaaand other opinionnnnnns

I wanted to fuckin quit this whole thing on the spot and go home. Only reason i cant is because my support worker is off work until thursday auauauaughhh

Fuck at least one positive i guess is that ive made progress in the social anxiety or at least gotten better at giving the impression im making progress. Cos i want to LEAVE AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. And also fuck all my other worries seem less suicide-inducing when im actually getting the closest ive ever been to killing myself on a daily basis because of a stupid other thing that i never could have predicted. Go here for one form of self hate, come home with another! Yayyyyy

And fuck i havent even made a single bit of progress on drawing or writing anything and i cant practise making ganes cos my laptop cant run rpgmaker and i havent even started reading my giant pile of books cos they fuckin LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW EVERY SINGLE HOUR TO MAKE SURE YOU AINT KILLED YOURSELF. i have no fuckin pribacy and its making me wanna kill myself even more!! I just live constantly on edge looking at the fuckin door window and i cant even do anything to distract myself because im too scared of them looking at me!! Or barging in at no notice to tell me i have to do some big stressful thing RIGHT NOW because i dont even get advance notice of anything aaaa! And fuck i dont have anywhere to go to even calm down from a panic attack cos i have no privacy so at least im getting over being scared of going outside cos outside is the only place i can go to cry. Fuckin strangers in the crowd at least wont cause shit if they see me.

Fuck i want to go home. Fuck i wish i had enough money to keep buying mobile internet. Its like fuckin 750mb a day to run tumblr but its all ive got to talk to any person who doesnt hate me or patronize me or think im faking a bunch of shit or whatever the fuck. And im not even any fun to be around when im like this so im probably just ruining your day too. And im probably gonna vanish again soon and then just go back to crying alone and getting worse and probably never being able to leave

I knew it was gonna be stressdul but i didnt predict any of this.. I just wanna fuckin die. I wanted to jump out the car and go to my old dad's house and have him pull open the door and slap me around a bit. Like call me a fucking dyke, call me a sick retard, be honest about your feelings! I'd fuckin take being abused over this "oh youre the bad one for being mad because i had goooood intentions" reverse psychology bigotry from hell. Either these people are evil geniuses or theyre even more stupid like me. Fuckin shit dad please manifest in my room and slap me, killing me instantly. I feel like being scared of you would at least be a faster emotion than this nebulous sensation of confusing unease and dysphoria 24/7 for 6 fuckin months. One week done, haha! Hahahabahahahahahahahahahahahahshahahahahahshshshahshahahahhahahaaaa

[deepweboutlxws]

Indefinite Hiatus Notice

I’ve been wanting to put this post off for as long as I possibly could, but due to recent events, I really don’t have a choice anymore.This account will be on hiatus, and I don’t know how long that hiatus is going to be. This hiatus is also extended to all of my other accounts, including @modern-mythos-rp , @project-foundation-rp , @mr-and-mrs-rational , and even my personal, @oppyrational . Being me, you know I don’t like leaving you guys any news without a full explanation. You guys deserve to know what’s going on as my followers and as my friends. But I’m letting you know that below this cut, there’s going to be a long explanation��about me and about a lot of personal things. Some of this content may be really sensitive or potentially triggering, so if you don’t want to read it, that’s fine. I’ll understand, but you guys deserve an explanation. I am in no way asking for pity, sympathy, or anything like that. I only want to convey to you guys, what’s happening.

For personal reasons regarding my safety, I go by either Oppy or V, online. I’ve said before that this is because I have people that look for me online with actively harmful intent. Including my own family. A lot of you know me as someone who does their best to help others and make people happy. I love art, I love writing, I love meeting new people, discussing things, and interacting with others, even if I am a bit shy about it all. But offline, I live in fear. And I don’t mean to exaggerate, but I live feeling like I’m under a dictatorship. I live in an abusive household. There’s no way to sugarcoat it, and I’m not going to beat around the bush. 

My father is a 71-year-old former Vietnam War vet. He’s made up for what he was forced to wrongly do and wrongly believe and made amends. It’s not him, I’m worried about. It’s my mother. Since the day I was born, my mother has despised me. I’m convinced she didn’t even want me. Ever since she managed to take custody of me again when I was 12, she has done nothing by beat me, insult me, demean me, humiliate me, and use me. If I ever needed help, she was never there, and she made it so my father rarely was. She cut off communication with the only family that actively was supporting me. She refused to listen to me when I told her I was struggling. If there was ever an intense workload in the house, it was completely my responsibility to do. If something isn’t done, it’s my fault, even if it wasn’t my job to do. If something goes wrong, it’s because of me. She quite literally took my childhood from me, by abandoning me when I was young and forcing me to be stuck in the horrific loop that is the adoptive care system. I’m in my senior year of high school, I’m almost 18, and I’m still treated like I’m nothing more than a slave child. If I try to stand up to her, she’ll use any card she has against me. Her Catholic faith in “always loving your parents”, the threat to lock me away from everyone, the “my house my rules” card. It’s almost as bad as her treatment of me directly. 

She refuses to believe that there’s something wrong with me. I was medically diagnosed with schizophrenia and told that medication was ineffective after it almost comatosed me, but she didn’t want to hear a word of it. She didn’t accept me when I came out to her, she constantly pokes fun at my physical appearance without even letting me try to do something as simple as cut my hair, and at times she coddles me, while at others, she tortures me. My achievements and my passions mean nothing to her, but if I so much as drop below a 90%, she holds it above and threatens to isolate me from the only people that care about me. I remember my first year of high school, I failed my first semester of geometry. I begged for a tutor or to go virtual, but she dismissed it, saying it was a lack of effort on my part, and punished me for it. She knew I struggle immensely with math. The end of the year came, and had it not been for my teacher and guidance counselor intervening, I would have failed completely. There were many times where I was punished with a lack of food for days. It threw off my schedule so much that even now, I found myself struggling to wake up with an appetite. This was particularly during middle and early high school, and it even manifested with me self-harming. It was a habit I dropped quickly after realizing it didn’t help. I was never diagnosed, but I felt at this point I was beginning to develop anxiety or depression, and it only got worse when my hallucinations became vivid and powerful over me. I began having suicidal thoughts and even attempted to kill myself several times throughout middle and high school. She threatened me with taking my phone and looking through it. It terrified me, knowing full well that she would have access to all of my private conversations, and I knew if she saw me venting to my friends and not her, it would be hell. I’d never been fond of resetting my phones, but she left me no choice. She had periods where she would smother and spoil me, and I thought things would change for the better, but I was wrong. And not a day goes by that she doesn’t hold her “gifts” over me like a debt.

Tonight, it’s all escalated. Tonight, she asked me what social media I had. I was an idiot for thinking maybe she’d respect that I’d grown up and was more responsible now. I was wrong. The second I mentioned Tumblr, she went off on me. She ranted how dangerous it was and how I was still and naive child who shouldn’t have it, refusing to listen to me when I said I managed my accounts specifically to avoid seeing awful content or talking to human traffickers/predators, and used it mostly for art, writing, and talking with friends. She used every card she had, “mother/police know best”, “my house my rules”, “I told you could never have it”. She even used my past (from when I was 13 nonetheless) and acted as though I wasn’t a completely different person from four years ago. She threatened to go through and deactivate my phone, to kick me out, to harm me physically or have me taken to jail, to euthanize my dog, to kill my turtle, tell my friends to stop talking to me. I knew most of it was bluffing, but the idea of her disconnecting me from all of my friends or beating me was a threat I knew all too well was real. She left, and now the mere sound of her footsteps has my anxiety through the roof. She’s planning on going through my phone and setting parental controls on it, so she can have more control over me than ever before, and monitor my every move. 

To say I’m paranoid is an understatement. I live in fear, I live under a dictator in my own home. I know there’s no other way to say it. I know this abuse. And I know there’s nowhere I can go. She’s watching everything I do now. She’s listening to every word. I know that I won’t be able to feel safe using open social media sites like Tumblr for a long time. But I’ve found a loophole I can use. I’m going to use the hotspot on my phone to power my old tablet after I’ve reset it. Tumblr and most of my other social media is unavailable on it due to iOS updates on limited hardware, but I’ll still have my Discord. If you would like to try and keep in contact with me, I have a server available in my links, or you can contact me privately. The server link is https://discord.gg/AzMV9u . My current username is Tank Paladin#0564. I’ll be available for chats and for roleplays and plotting on there only until this hiatus is off. I don’t know for sure how long I’ll be in stealth mode, my approximate guess is a year but I’m really praying it’ll be less than that. If you would rather not join the server, that’s okay, I completely understand.

I thank you all in advance for the love and support you have shown me thus far. I’ve had a lot of fun on here with all of you, and I hope I’ll get to see all of you when I get back one day. Stay safe and take care of yourselves. - V

[graunenskaix]

The Ring || Murphy Heacanon

For Verse 5

Okay soooo this is going to be a long one. I want to write a self para of what I -NOTE ME SPECIFICALLY- imagine Murphy went through up on The Ring. We know he went into a coma, that he broke Emori’s heart, and kept to himself away from the gang. So I’m just trying to piece together things for myself and my partners. I have tried to touch on his relationship with each of the characters up there for plotting purposes. Hense the length, but I threw a read more in there for yall. 

                                                - 3 weeks in -

Starving. It was the only word that Murphy could think of to describe how they were all feeling right about now. Monty, Harper and Raven had taken to trying to solve the algae culture issue. And Echo had been teaching the rest of them some Grounder meditation techniques that her people had used in the mountains to sustain themselves... or something like that, he wasn’t really listening on the first class.  Instead his mind was roaming the Ark in a light he had not seen it in. He used to hate this place, he still did. His rumbling stomached echoed that notion. 

He’d begun exploring in the few hours he could muster the energy each day. Emori has often helping Raven or learning from her, and he found their friendship kind of heartwarming. Like maybe his introducing them might help soothe the hurt he’d caused Raven. One day he came into the common room and everyone was already seated.       “Well this looks ... ominous.” He says half joking, though anxiety begun to spread through him like a wild fire. Why did he feel his fight of flight instincts kicking in.      “No luck on the Farm?” He asks Monty with none of his usual snark, he was trying to be genuine in case something really was brewing.  “Actually, it’s going really well.” Raven said with a nod for him to come and sit with them.         “Okay, so why is everyone looking like someone died?” He asks feeling the flames of anxiety rage     “Because they might.” Emori says, almost snapping. “They want you to try the newest culture John.”  Her tone told him she wasn’t fully on board, but there wasn’t exactly the same level of protest he’d put up in Becca’s Lab for her. 

John didn’t really need to hear anything else that was going to be said. They’d all talked about it without him. Made up their minds that he would be the best fit for a lab rat.     “I mean I know we joke about how hard I am to kill, but this is low.” He says to the group he had lived up here once with. Not as their friend, but he’d thought that maybe now...    “Everyone around here has been doing things to help get us set up for the next five years.” Bellamy decided to chime in now.  “You disappear for the whole day and we have no clue what you’re doing. Is it helpful?”        “Hey I come to the group meetings, I help when I’m asked. I’m exploring the ship. Seeing if I can find any food.” They all looked at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could never do something nice for the sake of it right?       “Regardless, everyone here has jobs they’ve taken on and we can’t risk them getting... Sick” The King had spoken. That was his story and they would all stick to it. He knew there was no point in arguing. He took the bowl of Algae in the middle of the table and looked around at everyone.        “And you all wonder why I want to be alone.” He says, not physically able to bring himself to look at Emori. How could she let this happen? She placed her hand on his shoulder, as he begun to eat the rancid green soup. 

      “It tastes like shit.” He says bluntly, and Emori’s hand dropped. Well... so much for unconditional support.  “But it’s edible so thats-” He trailed off as he felt what he’d thought was his fear at first, but his throat was literally closing. He looked at Monty first and shook his head, but he knew this was probably going to be the end of him. His gripped his throat, and stood up, hoping it might allow more air to his lungs. The others moved around him and tried to tell him it was going to be okay, in amongst medical jargon he couldn’t hear over the thumping of his ears. And then everything went dark, the last thing he heard was the thud of his skull on the floor. 

                                              - 4 weeks in - He had been living through replayed, miserable, memories for the past few days. But before he could move he could hear. They were worried about him, but every now and then he heard glimpses of what he took to be the truth.   ‘if he doesn’t make it what do we do?’    ‘float the body, start over on the crops.’   ‘we can’t float him.’      ‘We should bury him when we get back down to the ground.’      ‘Do I need to explain how hard it would be to preserve a corpse for that long up here? The power it would take isn’t worth it.’    ‘but then what will we eat?’   And conversation would go back to the nonsensical jargon he couldn’t understand. But those moments that he could... they stuck with him. He didn’t know who was speaking, but his mind would replay the conversations testing different people with different speaking roles. Either way it was a miserable show to play out in his head on repeat. When he started coming to, Emori rushed to find Raven and Monty. Everyone fussed over him and checked his vitals, but physically they wouldn’t find any damage. It was mentally that he had been seriously wounded. 

                                              - 8 months in -

His socializing became less and less, and Emori grew tired of waiting for him to feel like doing anything fun... or anything at all for that matter. She left him and this only fueled his downward spiral. Bellamy started bringing food to Murphy once the farms were sewn, and Murphy eventually told Bellamy about the reason he decided living away from the rest of them was for the best.    “I know you feel phased out, or like you’re not one of us but you are”  Bellamy protested.        “Yeah until there’s another recipe for disaster, that you all need a test subject for. No thanks.” He had been trying and failing to push past the paranoia he’d been feeling. His lone wandering of the halls wasn’t helping his mind either. Memories were scattered in various rooms and views, Even with his supposed friends up here, Murphy felt more alone than ever, which was saying something after his stint in the bunker. 

                                                         - 1 year in - 

He still has made no effort to contact the other’s, though he does sometimes venture into the common area, to return his food trays. He would occasionally bump into the other’s there, but his life was devoted solely to going through every single room that he could find his way into. When returning his tray one day Echo approached him.   ‘Hey John, can we talk a moment?’          “Do we have to?” He replies sarcastically, to which she laughed. This caused a small smile of his own, but he swallowed it down pretty fast.    ‘Bellamy is really worried about you. So am I... I just want you to know, I didn’t like that they chose you. I Volunteered in your place but -”        “But your Bellamy’s girlfriend so that wasn’t an option.” He interjected. But from the look on her face he felt a pang of guilt, he’d wounded her. Echo had always been nice enough to him.          “I’m sorry.” He says genuinely, to which she nods in thanks.   ‘Just promise me you’re keeping your meditation up.’        “Sure thing.” He says, not confirming that he had, nor promising he would, but he had been is he was honest. She smiled and gave him another nod, waving as she backed away and headed off. He turned with a slight smile, a slight glimmer of hope that this wouldn’t be the worst four years of his life if he could speckle it with positive interactions like that. 

                                               - 2 years in -

Monty begun delivering food for a while, he promised there were no new recipes.       “So how’s Harper?” Murphy asked in one of the rare occasions that they bumped into one another.   ‘Are you asking because you care or because you want to try hitting on her again?’       “I was delirious are you really going to hold that against me?” He asks with a chuckle, Monty wasn’t laughing however, so he stopped.      “Okay look I’m sorry for what I said, I don’t exactly remember it so I can’t be more specific than that.”  He adds trying to be nice about it.    ‘Yeah well do us a favour and stay out here so we all know where to avoid.’ Monty says bitterly, but Murphy can tell he’s just trying to be assertive.       “Message received... though you’ve been bringing me food for a while now so you can’t hate me that much.” Murphy points out as he swallowed a large chunk of .. something that Monty had brought.    ‘Bellamy needed a rest from your attitude. He’s exhausted, but he doesn’t want to give up on you. This was purely so he would take a break.’       “Then why hasn’t anyone different been doing it? Surely if you hated me as much as you’re saying, right now? You wouldn’t be the only one doing it.” Monty tried to remain cold, but Murphy could see he was at that point of giving up the ghost.    ‘Okay fine. I came to ask if you would come back. You aren’t the worst all the time. I lost Jasper to his own mind. I don’t want to loose you to yours.’  Okay that got to him.  His throat flexed closed for a moment, making him gag on his latest mouthful.       “Uh... Thanks.. Monty.” He says slowly trying to comprehend what the other was saying.       “But I ... “ He didn’t know what to say.  “I’m really sorry. About trying to kill him that time. He was a good dude in the end, and so are you. I’m not quite at the point where I wanna blow my brains out. But don’t be a stranger okay?” He finishes the sentence with a sincere smile. Monty didn’t smile however.   ‘Okay. Well that’s all I came to check on. See ya round.’   Maybe he didn’t know what to say either, but whatever it was Monty hurried off  with a wave behind him. 

                                                     - 3 years and 193 days in -

John hadn’t heard from Emori in a year, at least. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of his doorway with a look that told him he was in trouble.       “Well hi.” He says casually, though he rushed his brain to be sure he hadn’t upset her when they last parted.     ‘John we need to talk.’      “We’ve already had this talk what else do you have to say? You just wanna rip my heart out a little more?”  He went from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. It was like he was his old self again. Bitter to everyone and easy to set off.     ‘John I think I might have been pregnant. but I mean... space, so you know, it didn’t take. But I just thought I should tell you.’ She says it so casually but he hears nothing past ‘i was pregnant’.        “And what you’re just telling me this now? That would have to have been a year ago, unless -” His eyes and nostrils flare in anger as the concept forms in his head, but she interjects - ‘No I haven’t slept with anyone else don’t be ridiculous.’  The anger subsides but he is most definitely hurt. They all knew they couldn’t have children while they were up here. But he hadn’t realized pregnancy could even happen.          “I...don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. Why are you telling me this now?” He asks, not sure he wants to know the answer.    ‘Because I’m sad John. And I miss having you here to talk about things with. Why don’t you just come back already?’  She sounded pained saying it. He wanted more than anything than to bridge the gap between them right now. But he couldn’t feel his legs.        “I’m sorry.... I’ll come for dinners once a week or something. But I’m getting on fine out here on my own. I can think here... It was too crowded over there. Why don’t you just move closer to me if you miss me so much?” He was still bitter about the amount of times she had blown him off for something that came up with Raven or Monty.   ‘I think it’s best if you don’t, if I’m being honest.’ Her tone was so detached that it was like John’s heart was being torn in two all over again.      “Right... okay. Well thanks for coming to tell me the worst things I’ve heard in a few years. Here I was thinking this year couldn’t get any worse. Goes to show what I know I guess.” His tone matched her’s in coldness. He wasn’t going to let her in again any time soon.       “If that’s all, you can go.” He turns away from her so he doesn’t have to watch her leave like last time.     ‘I’m sorry John, really. I wish things could have been different... but you can’t or won’t change, and I can’t handle waiting for it any more.’ The entire sentence was painful and redundant at this point. He wanted her gone. He needed to be alone.       “So leave then.” He says growing irritated. Once she’d left he threw the cup he’d been focusing on, against the wall. He kicked his table over before falling down onto his bed. He gripped his hair and tugged some of it out as he muffled a scream. The darkness took over him for a year or so. He moved further out on the ring from everyone, only going in for food which he would take in bulk against Monty’s protests. Never more than he was supposed to have, but enough for a few weeks at a time. No one bothered him, no one tried bringing him back in. As far as he knew they were moving on without him. He would see them in another year or so when Raven had them ready to go home. And then he’d find somewhere in the valley to hold up on his own until something better came along. 

                                                     - 5 years and 42 days in -

Murphy was living back in his original room, waiting for the message that they were ready to go. He could hear the banging of metal and Ravens yells of frustration as she tried and tried again to get things set for their return trip. Bellamy had told him that she was facing problems, and there was going to be a bit of a delay. Murphy had requested that Bellamy send her to him that day, against Bellamy’s warnings that she wouldn’t like leaving her work, Murphy assured him she wouldn’t be long.     ‘I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit Murphy, what the hell do you want?’  He heard Raven before she’d even finished opening his door.       “Hey, calm down. Like I told Bellamy, I won’t take up too much of your precious time. I just wanted to know how you are, make sure you’re not gonna fry your brain trying to get us home because you feel you owe it to us.”    ‘I do. I said I could get us back down to the ground. And you’re taking up time I could be spending figuring this out, so get to the real point. Fast.’ she interrupted him folding her arms and looking at him with her trademark glare. He stood there for a moment as if those words were sinking in, then her pursed his lips and swallowed.       “Right so I can’t care about anyone right?” He asks genuinely looking a little wounded. She just continued to glare before spitting ‘no you definitely care about yourself... but that’s about it.’        “Fine.” He says feeling wounded, “I found a bunch of things around the ring, they’re in the box, maybe something might be useful. Help yourself.” He adds, that wounded feeling turning into anger. Why did no one think he could do anything or care about anyone but himself. He’d cared about Raven, Emori, Bellamy... he’d felt like he and Monty had bonded when they were getting the rocket fuel. But anytime he felt he’d made progress, one of them would snatch that progress away from him and then wonder why he wasn’t “making and effort”.  Raven stood and looked through the box, she took a few things and examined them.    ‘Well at least this visit wasn’t entirely pointless.’ She says taking the things she’d picked up and heading for the door. She paused and looked back at him, maybe sensing she’d been hard on him.    ‘Thanks, Murphy.’ she says giving him a nod before leaving. It’s not as though he’d expected her to welcome his visit with open arms, he knew how she preferred to deal with him. But still, they hadn’t seen each other in years, he thought maybe her aversion to him might have eased. Apparently not. He gave her a nod and went back to reading and waiting. She would get him when they were ready. He was in no rush to be crammed into the rocket with everyone, so the longer it took her the better in his opinion. But that mood wouldn’t last long either. 

                                                            - 6 years in -

Things had fallen back into the same routine that the group had started with up here. Murphy kept to himself, occasionally Echo would come an train with him for a little while. Bellamy tried to encourage his learning the moves whenever he visited, and every now and then Murphy would try to catch him off guard. This was one of those days.  He managed to get one up on Bellamy, sneaking behind him before charging him, jumping on his back. The other grunted and Murphy grinned,      “What’s wrong Bellamy? You wanted me to train right? It’s what I’m doing.” He teased in the other’s ear before being slammed against a steel door. He fell to the floor winded    ‘alright, but if I win, you come back to the crew.’  Bellamy offered, as per usual. John rolls his eyes and his head shakes itself,        “No deal.” Murphy says pushing himself back to his feet.  “Too many rules... and besides, there’s no one to disappoint around here.” He points out, looking at Bellamy incredulously, as if this should have been obvious.  Bellamy took a deep breath and was about to start in on a lecture, but he only got Murphy’s name out before a fist connected with his jaw. Murphy bounced on his heels a little and smirks to himself.   ‘Good punch.’ The other says to which Murphy nods and confirms,   “Oh yeah?” he continued to bounce on his feet while Bellamy rubbed his jaw.   ‘yeah, if you shifted your weight when you punch it might actually hurt... do you know what I think your problem is?’  It was a question Murphy had heard many times in his life, but not for a few years now, though that was for other reasons of course.     “Oh this should be good.” He says rolling his eyes.    ‘You like to be the hero, accept up here there are no heroes.’ He was circling Murphy now, and the younger male was trying to hear him out, but the next sentence had him loosing his temper:    ‘You’re afraid to become worthless again’ He hadn’t chosen to let that get under his skin, the punch Murphy threw was entirely involuntary but swift, it connected with a thud, but Bellamy blocked his next punch and shoved him against the glass, overlooking their Barron planet. While Bellamy continued on about how he didn’t think Murphy was worthless, John saw something approaching the ground. A ship, a ship that wasn’t theirs and wasn’t a part of the old Ark.       “Bellamy look.” He says, but his arm is twisted and Bellamy demands Murphy says he isn’t worthless. “I’m not kidding you look!” He reiterated, and this time the other clearly saw the ship, because his grip immediately loosened. The older straightened him up and looked him in the eye,   ‘let’s go.’ He insisted, gripping Murphy’s shoulder to look him in the eye and communicate silently that there was no arguing this time, Murphy was going to have to rejoin the crew.

[smokingbrumby88]

Victim Impact Statement Draft #2

When you’re in a struggle for your life, there comes a moment that you just wish it would hurry up and end. When the fear has reached a maximum level and your finally tired of the constant struggle you begin to accept the thoughts “this is how I go out, this is how my life ends.”

His hands are so tight around my throat, I can’t breathe, and my vision is starting to go black. My legs have turned to jelly, and I can’t reach the ground. Tonight, I think he might kill me. In that moment, I was ready for it to all finally come to an end. But it didn’t, and that wasn’t the end. Charles and I were in a relationship for approximately 3.5 years, ending with his arrest in March 2019. On the night that I have described Charles assaulted me before a family Christmas gathering. He was careful to never break a bone, but he controlled every aspect of my life with consistent threats, intimidation and stand-over tactics that was always followed by actual physical abuse.

That Christmas morning of 2018, Charles’s assault lasted through the night and continued the next morning. Even coming after me as got I in the car to go and see my family. I was excited for Christmas; it was the first I would have with my family in many years and the last Christmas I would ever get to have with my dad who passed away in late 2019. When I arrived, my family knew something was wrong. They tell me I was shaking and hyperventilating. They knew if they asked, I would make up a cover story for Charles’s actions. So, my sister puts my sleeping niece in my arms to comfort me and nothing more is said until later, when they discover the marks on my neck. I have no choice but to uncover the ugly truth. And still, I say “it’s just an itchy neck.”

Most of the assaults have gone undocumented or unrecorded because of my fear of Charles’s retribution if I ever went to the Police. When they occurred, Charles would spend hours upon hours physically assaulting me. This was always accompanied by psychological torment about everything from my weight to my usefulness as a human being. Anything could provoke Charles’s anger. I wasn’t allowed my own opinion, I couldn’t think for myself, I couldn’t choose things that I wanted. I literally had no control of my own life and forever feared the physical repercussions that included being punched, kicked, threatened, strangled, or have a weapon used on me. He would only stop when he was satisfied that he had beaten the result that he wanted into me.

Not long after his arrest, I ended up in the Mental Health Ward due to the psychological impact of what had occurred over the years we were together. It all became too much for me and I attempted suicide. I had to be escorted by the police to the facility to ensure I did no further harm to myself.

Today, I live with frequent panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks, insomnia, and a heightened level of anxiety. This affects my everyday living and my sense of personal safety. I am obsessive about locking my doors in the event that Charles finds out where I live. I have means to protect myself and feel the need to check these compulsively to feel safe. I live in the fear of his words when he’s told me “If I ever go to jail because of you, I WILL find you, and I will F**CKING KILL YOU! That’s a promise and don’t you ever forget it”. These words haunt me every day. I don’t ever feel safe, no matter what I am doing or who I’m with. I don’t even feel safe in my own home. I don’t go out at night and even something as simple as my grocery shopping, the moment I get in my car, I lock the doors as a precaution because I don’t trust anyone. I have spent the last 2 years seeking help to get through the trauma caused by all the assaults. I have been diagnosed with depression and PTSD in relation to not only the violent attacks from Charles, but the emotional, psychological and sexual ones as well.

It has been just over 2 years since the last time Charles assaulted me, I still remember the attacks daily and can often re-live them when my safety is threatened, or my anxiety is triggered by invasive, overwhelming thoughts that I struggle to control. Throughout our relationship, the violence increased in frequency and the reasons for it became more and more ridiculous. I cannot recall the first time he assaulted me, there were so many times that the violence occurred that my memory fails me when I try to remember them all.

Towards the end of our relationship, it became so ridiculous that he used any excuse to justify his violence towards me. One night after cuddling on the couch he mentioned my weight. I wasn’t interested in talking about it, he so got violent, emotionally abusive and controlling. He screamed at me, telling me I was the fattest girlfriend he had ever had, and I looked disgusting. He spent 4 hours punching me in the same spot on my arm over and over, leaving a large bruise. I would later tell my family members that it was caused by running into a door handle after chasing my cat through the house. I begged him to stop but that just infuriated him even more. In the end I gave up and told him what he wanted to hear. The next day he forced me to run the block, while he screamed at me. When I was not able to continue because of exhaustion, he threw me on the ground in the street and punched me until I got up. When I crossed the street to get away from him, he followed me, kicked me in the kidneys, slamming my head into a park table and forcibly dragged me back to the house.

The events described contribute to my daily anxiety, nightmares and flashbacks. I often struggle to manage this. I feel that most people expect me to be over it by now, but that’s not the case. Many things trigger me and bring on panic attacks where I re-live the trauma again. It doesn’t help that Charles will not leave me alone and keeps trying to contact me via Facebook and other forms of social media. Every time he does this (the most recent in April of this year) it’s like the flood gates of hell open up again and all the work I have put in to getting better disappears and I’m back to square one. This feels unfair. I feel like the justice system has failed me on so many levels and that Charles only got a smack on the hand. It feels unfair that Charles only got 6 months in jail. It feels unfair that everyday I’m living with the consequences of his actions. It feels unfair that he gets to move on with his life while I feel stuck in a cycle of trauma.

I want to move on with my life and be happy. I want this chapter to finally come to an end. I am the happiest I’ve ever been, but the damage of Charles’s actions keeps me from fully moving forward. I am thankful that someone has finally asked to hear what this has done to me. I could go on, give more detail and examples of Charles’s horrible actions and how this has affected me, but even writing this is traumatizing and difficult to complete. I hope this helps to somewhat capture the effects of what Charles did to me.

[fanficsandfluff]

The Best Spider-Man

I took the liberty of kind of joining this prompt with this one. I tried my best to get a balanced feel of both of these prompts to make one cohesive story. Hope you like it, sweeties!

Words: 2,722

Another lab report due by the end of the week. Jesus, this was the third week in a row his teacher did that to the class. And that means a whole lot of staying up late typing the damn thing. Peter Parker knew he’d be getting straight A’s anyway. It was just another thing piled up on his week’s worth of science, math, language, english, and technical homework.

You can do it, Peter. You’re Spider-Man. You can do anything.

Oh right, Spider-Man. Yet another load onto Peter’s full plate. He wanted to be Spider-Man full-time! But unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to Tony Stark. 

Speaking of the man, Tony had been paying Peter more visits. Whether it was to scold him or congratulate him on something, Tony was acting more and more like some father figure to the kid. Except when he wasn’t.

Tony had become semi-obsessed with teaching Peter everything he knew. How to be the most spidery Spider-Man ever. The training added another weight to Peter’s young shoulders. He could’ve easily said no and that he was too busy, but what would Mr. Stark think of him then? That he wasn’t strong enough to bear the burden of being Spider-Man? Hell no. He couldn’t have that. 

So Peter was stuck dealing with schoolwork, his social life, being a superhero, and making time for Iron Man’s teaching. Wow, he was so screwed. 

A weekend arrived. Finally! Some relaxation at last, right? His cell phone ringing and the voice of Tony being the caller told Peter that he was wrong to assume he’d ever get a break. 

The phone call went something like:

“Hey, kiddo. You free today?” “Me? Oh um, yeah I think so, Mr. Stark. Why?” “I was gonna ask Happy to pick you up and take you to the Towers. I have a new upgrade for your suit I think you’ll like.” “That’s... that’s real nice of you, Mr. Stark. Sure. I’ll come over.” “Great. See you soon.”

Peter sighed after he hung up and flopped down onto his bed, shutting his eyes. He needed sleep. If not sleep, he needed at least an hour with no worries and no responsibilities. 

But within half an hour, Peter was showered and dressed and Happy was downstairs ready to pick him up. He was too tired to even annoy Happy today.

Upon his arrival, Happy took Peter to the gym inside the upstate Avengers facility where Tony was waiting for him. 

“There he is. Spiderboy,” Tony teased gently, welcoming Peter with a smile. 

“Hi,” Peter mustered up his own smile and he waved to Tony.

“C’mere, let me show you what I have so far. Then I want your comments.”

Tony showed Peter a new power grid for his suit as well as a new program that improves Peter’s agility within it. That and a few other tweaks were what Tony started off with.  

Peter listened attentively, offering minor quips about the technology Tony was developing for those programs. Tony took in each one with humbled pride. 

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, why don’t we take the suit for a test run? You and me? Sparring?” 

Peter almost threw up at the word, not imagining he could handle a full on fight after a night of no sleep. His tired look of disgust transformed into an appreciative smile just for Tony. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Peter got changed into his Spidey suit and met Tony in a large sparring arena. 

“Now, I’m an old man so go easy on me,” Tony joked, hoping to get a crack of a smile or a laugh from the kid. Nothing. Tony sensed early on that something was on Peter’s mind, but he figured maybe not bringing it up was his best bet. 

Tony was trying to teach Peter all the new moves and specialty powers he could unlock from his suit. Tony was very aware how much this sounded like a video game tutorial. 

Peter would try. Most of the moves he’d get right, and a specialty web would shoot out of his wrist. But there was always one or two he stumbled on. 

“It’s alright, Pete. Why don’t we move on to the next one?”

Peter was panting, that one move taking a lot out of his sleep-deprived body. 

“T-There’s more?” 

“Only another five or so,” Tony shrugged, “Then I want you to actually use them. Against me.”

Peter wanted to groan out loud. He choked it back in his throat and continued on with the moves. 

Once it was the final new move, Peter found he didn’t have the stamina to do it. He tried and tried, over and over again. Each time the jumps and kicks taking more and more out of him. 

Tony couldn’t sense the fatigue so much and just continued watching, thinking Peter just had to find his groove. 

He was proved wrong when Peter tore off his mask and screamed, “I can’t do it!”

Tony stood still, shocked at the sudden outburst, “Peter...”

“I can’t do it! I-I know you want me to, Mr. Stark, but... there’s just so much going on right now. So damn much,” Peter threw his mask on the ground as tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m not the superhero you want me to be. B-But I’m trying! I’m doing my homework, studying for my tests, going out at night and stopping the bad guys and--” he sniffled, “It’s so much... You believe in me, I know. You put so much faith in me and here I am, unable to manage every little thing I should be able to. I’m not cut out for this, Tony,” a tear slipped down Peter’s cheek. Not waiting for Tony to give him any answers, Peter ran out of the sparring gym. 

Tony rocked back and forth on his heels. He then took a few steps forward and picked up Peter’s discarded mask. With calm, even steps, he went in search for Peter. After asking the Tower’s supercomputer where he was of course.

Peter ran through the Towers, going up a flight of stairs and turning a corner. He continued running until he found an open door. It seemed to be an unoccupied sleeping quarters. Probably unused and brand new, judging by the pristine-ness of it all and the smell. He ducked inside there and shut the door behind him. 

Peter took one look at himself in the mirror there and he got even more enraged. He screamed with anger and anxiety all mixed into one tearful shout. He ripped the suit off his body and kicked it after throwing it to the ground. Then he curled up on the pearly white bedsheets, sobbing quietly. Weak. That’s what he was. He couldn’t handle even the least bit of pressure. And he just exploded like that in front of Tony Stark. He was done being Spider-Man. That was the end, he was sure of it. 

Now only clad in boxers, Peter sniffled into the pillows, holding one close to his chest. 

Minutes past and Peter was still upset and crying. He couldn’t stop his tears once the stress took over. This had happened before.

Half an hour. Peter shut his eyes and was no longer crying. He cleared his mind and just sat in silence. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. By now, all expression on his face was nonexistent. A blank stare accompanied with red eyes from his fit of crying. 

A sudden knock on his door made Peter cringe and he rolled onto his side, back facing the door. He did not want to interact. 

Tony stepped in after waiting thirty seconds post-knock. He saw the forgotten suit on the ground first and then the curled up pale blob that was Peter. Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, fiddling with something in his hands. 

“When I was a little younger than you, and I’d be upset or stressed about something, you know what my dad would do? He’d stand in my room and tell me, ‘You’ve got to be better.’ Hmm,” Tony stared in front of him absently as he reminisced, “And I’d always think, gee... that was some shitty pep talking. I mean, he didn’t even say ‘You’re better than this,’ or ‘It’s okay, things will get better.’ I got none of that. And it’s funny because... every time I speak to you, the one thought always running through my mind is don’t be him. So I have to be better to you than my dad ever was to me. I’m failing,” Tony smiled sadly, “Clearly. I can’t read the signs that you’re tired. That you need a break. I mean, you’re just a kid. I’m starting to realize... I’m exactly like Howard.”

“No.”

Tony turned his head, surprised to hear the second voice pipe up. Peter was now sitting up, half his body still turned away from Tony. 

“You aren’t like that, Mr. Stark. You’re doing everything right, it’s me that’s the problem.”

“If you are still believing that you’re the problem, there’s something going on. Right?” Tony lifted half his leg onto the bed to look at Peter fully, “Pete, you’re an amazing kid. And I don’t say that to every Spiderboy I know.”

A glimmer of amusement shown in Peter’s eye.

“I picked you for a reason. Took you under my wing, gave you the suit, given you all the support I can give. I see the strength in you. I see what you’ve been through. And frankly, I see myself.”

Peter’s cheeks tinted with blush. 

“You get easily distressed, easily anxious, and pressure isn’t the thing you handle best. But I wouldn’t take my Spider-Man any other way. We both gotta just keep,” Tony gently socked Peter’s shoulder, “Rolling with the punches. I’ll be a better mentor. I’ll recognize the signs easier. I promise. I’ll work on that. And we’ll make you the best superhero you can be. Okay?”

Peter took in all of what Tony said and he nodded. Tony tossed the thing he’d been holding in his hands this whole time at Peter. The teen caught it and he sighed, now looking at his mask. 

“New York needs Spider-Man,” Tony concluded, shrugging his shoulders, giving Peter a knowing look. 

Peter nodded again and he was about to speak but another article of clothing got chucked into his face. Oh, how sentimental, Tony.

“No big speeches, that’s my job. And especially not when you’re half naked.”

Peter huffed and he grinned, seeing that Tony threw his change of clothes at him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter slipped on his shirt. 

Peter knew Tony was doing all the right things. He had all the right instincts. Tony knew to give him some time to cool down, and when he confronted him, he wasn’t all about yelling at him to get him to come to his senses. He wasn’t lovey dovey with hugs or anything and that was nice, too. 

“So, what can I do to make it up to you?”

“Nothing. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I can take you out for ice cream. Isn’t that what dads do? Hell, you don’t know either so why am I even asking?”

Peter grinned again, “It sounds like something a dad would do. Especially taking his son to get the biggest soft serve cone out there.”

Tony reciprocated the grin, “Oh boy, it sounds like Peter’s being sassy.”

Peter stood up to pull his jeans on properly and he smiled at Tony, “I think I know who I got that from.”

Tony chuckled now, the joke still carrying on, “Wanna sit on dad’s lap and tell him all your woes? Girl troubles? Friend drama? Sexual escapades?”

Peter let out a laugh and he grabbed a pillow, pushing it into Tony’s back, “Stop! You’re soho creepy!”

Tony smirked and while Peter was pushing the pillow into him, he turned and was able to nab one of Peter’s arms and wrench him forward. So now Peter was on his back beside Tony. 

“What’s the big deal? I’m just trying to get my boy to confess to me,” Tony, while still holding one of Peter’s wrists, used his free hand to spider a set of fingers into the teen’s belly. 

The soft, teasing sensation send shocks up Peter’s spine, and he yelped. He could do little to stop it from happening, despite being Spider-Man.

“T-Tony! No wait! Plehease don’t!”

“My dad never did this to me. I gotta be his opposite, Pete, you know that.”

Tony latched onto both of Peter’s skinny yet muscular sides and kneaded them up and down. He heard Peter’s laughter escalate and he knew he was doing something right. 

“Thihis isn’t fair! NO! Tony, not thehehere! ACK!” 

Peter whined and cackled when Tony’s fingers crawled up to ripple against his ribcage. Peter struggled harder now and was able to wiggle himself away from Tony for a second. But he wound up with his upper half hanging off the side of the bed and Tony held onto him tighter so he wouldn’t move. With Peter’s ribs now sticking out more prominently thanks to his back being stretched, Tony massaged and caressed his way up each and every rib. 

Peter’s mouth was open in a wide smile, desperate laughter pouring from his lips. He could barely form words to beg Tony to stop. But did he really even want this to stop? This was a drastic 180 compared to his earlier behavior. 

“SHIHIT!” Peter wailed and panted when he got a break. Tony’s fingers stilled on his highest ribs, Peter’s arms clamping protectively to his sides. 

“How’re you holding up?” Tony asked with a wicked grin, his face popping over the edge of the bed to look at Peter. 

“J-Juhust don’t go any hihigher...” Peter panted, his head hanging back to savor this moment’s rest. 

Tony rose a curious brow, “Does the spider have a weak spot under his arms?”

Peter blushed and tried worming away again, “Noho he doesn’t!” the teasing wasn’t helping his predicament at all.

Tony smirked and he slid his hands up under Peter’s protective arms and wiggled his fingers briefly just to test it. Peter shrieked just from those two seconds of tickling, and Tony could feel his arms press harder into his sides. 

The billionaire playboy resumed his tickle attack, able to scritch every bit of skin in Peter’s armpits just fine. Peter threw his head back and dislodged himself from Tony’s hold just a little more so now he was hanging upside down from the bed. 

“TOHONYYY! STAHAAA!” Peter was done for now. He couldn’t finish words and all that overtook him was his own laughter. 

“Isn’t this like the part of you always vulnerable? What with you swinging on webs and climbing buildings? Geez, some warning would’ve been nice before we named you Spider-Man. Better planning should go into future heroes if they’re all as ticklish as you.”

Peter’s face got even redder and he shook his head back and forth, unable to escape Tony’s torturous digits. They wouldn’t stop wiggling and digging into his hollows. It was hell. 

Eventually, Peter’s squirming got to be so adamant that he fell off the bed and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Tony chortled and looked down at Peter. 

“You good, Pete?”

Peter was still giggling, and he looked right up at Tony, “Behetter.”

Tony’s heart warmed and he got off the bed, helping Peter to his feet. He couldn’t help but ruffle the kid’s hair affectionately. Tony decided to call off the suit repairs and training for the rest of the day. He even offered to help Peter with his schoolwork, but the brainiac declined, as Tony expected. 

Before Peter left with Happy, he ran towards Tony and squeezed him in a tight hug. 

“See you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled and he patted Peter’s back, “Go show that chemistry teacher who’s boss.”

Peter laughed and nodded before jogging off to meet up with Happy at the car. He spun around and waved to Tony one last time before leaving. 

Tony stood there and watched the car drive off. Now that was the Spider-Man he’d come to know and love.