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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER TWO: Imposter Syndrome

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You've been trying your hardest to focus on your work, but there is something else that is bothering you. Claire decides to give you a call and check up on you. It seems like both of you are keeping secrets of your own, and then there is this handsome lawyer who refuses to leave your mind after he quite literally burst your little bubble of solitude...

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mentions of domestic violence, Reader's POV, use of reader's fake name

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: It took me a few tries to finish this chapter because I couldn't, for the life of me, settle on a plot, but I think I've got it figured out now. I didn't do the classic "this scene from another POV", I switched it up a bit, so what happened in chapter one isn't repeated word for word. I think it flows better like this. I hope you guys like it, and thank you for your support so far! I really appreciate it.

Read Chapter 2: Imposter Syndrome on AO3.

The human body holds up to six liters of blood. Without saline or a blood transfusion, losing more than two liters can be fatal—and every drop lost after that decreases your chance of survival. A paper cut won’t kill you, but a gunshot wound might. It’s a simple equation that doesn’t require a medical degree to solve.

If the human body experiences trauma though, everything is on the line. A nicked vessel or artery can lead to a bloodbath. Trauma to any of the major organs can lead to internal bleeding and cause the body to suffer fatal consequences. You could lose too much blood too fast, or the blood could travel to your brain, and you could herniate.

Depending on the place of injury, trauma can lead to a large number of complications that are therefore a threat to life. But it’s not just blood that the human body needs to survive; oxygen is another vital player in the game against time. Without it, the brain dies, and if the brain is dead, there is nothing anyone can do to bring you back.

Many things could kill a human being, and many complications could occur in a split second, and that makes trauma an unpredictable event.

Your fingers instantly stop moving over the keys of your computer when the black phone on your desk starts screaming. At first, your eyes switch to your phone, but you have any non-emergent calls silenced. That explains it.

You flinch. You suddenly become painfully aware of the city’s lights shining on you from behind, the blue light of your laptop illuminating your face and causing your pupils to shrink, and the bulb in your desk lamp that is flickering every so often, reminding you that you need to switch it sometime soon.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, then press the acceptance button. You answer the phone. “This is Doctor Clarke at Metro General,” you say. “How can I help you?”

“Jesus,” the familiar voice reaches your ears, and you let out an almost annoyed sigh. “You sound like hell,” Claire answers.

“And you don’t sound sick,” you retort.

You aren’t sure what to make of her sudden mystery illness, or why she didn’t tell you and you had to find out from the hospital administrator who was losing it over the fact that her favorite nurse called out sick that morning.

The phone goes silent for a short moment before she says, “It’s complicated.”

“Hey, we all need sick days sometimes,” you shrug. “Just took us all by surprise, is all.”

“Are you trying to turn this around on me so we won’t have to talk about you?”

Your lips part in a dry chuckle. “Is this about me?” you ask, even though you know very well that it is. You’re the one trying to deflect.

“You silenced your phone.”

With another sigh, you push the stack of papers you’ve been working on aside and take the next folder from the pile. “I’m fine.” You hold the X-ray picture up to the light, squinting your eyes. “Just... splendid, yeah. You want me to do a psych eval? Urine sample? My social security number?”

You can physically hear her roll her eyes at your comment. “Can’t I just be worried about you without you taking it like a personal attack?”

It’s a loaded, rhetorical question asked in a tone that you are more than familiar with. It is a train wreck waiting to happen, but Claire is your friend—a very caring friend, too—and she hardly ever lets loose when she wants to know something.

She knows you better than anyone, after all. She knows everything, even the parts you swore to never talk about again—parts you swore you would take to the grave.

That is the purpose of a new life, isn’t it? Forgetting the past ever happened, then moving on? If that could actually heal trauma, life would be so much easier. Unfortunately, denial tends to make the wounds bleed faster. You will die faster if you keep it all bottled up, but it’s easier said than done when it comes to reality. Sometimes, denial is the only luxury you can afford for yourself, even if it slowly kills you.

You have seen your fair share of traumatic injuries pass in and out of the emergency room over the years. Not just physically but mentally as well. There is only a small margin of error in an even smaller time frame in which traumatic injuries can be treated without lifelong consequences. The scars though, they remain forever.

“Look,” Claire continues softly, “I’m worried about you. I know you hate talking about yourself, but every once in a while, I have to make sure you’re alright and not... falling apart or something.”

You swallow thickly, the lump slowly starting to hurt your esophagus. “Why would I be falling apart?” you question, but your voice no longer has the same level of conviction in it.

Feigned confidence doesn’t go a very long way, you’ve noticed. You can’t stand your ground when you don’t believe in where you’re standing.

“A little birdy told me you had a bad day. That’s why.”

In the halls of a hospital—any hospital—word travels faster than lightning. You roll your eyes, but you don’t know what to say. She isn’t wrong. You did have a bad day. Your blood is still boiling. Everything in you feels a hundred pounds heavier. You may not be falling apart because there is not much of a foundation left to fall apart, but the feeling is eerily similar.

You used to be a beloved surgeon at a prestigious hospital for all five years of your residency, but with each year that passed, what had once been just a spark turned into gigantic flames that slowly began torching your skin. They burned your flesh and dragged it down to your fragile bones. Your body went into shock over the years. You became septic. And it almost killed you, too.

Your heart froze in place before it miserably cracked. It didn’t take long before the inferno took over every last crevice of your life. It burnt out everything that was remotely good for you. You were so dependent on something—someone—that was slowly poisoning you.

You ran for months. You moved from State to State, you changed your name and your whole identity twice. You tried everything to get away, but your demons kept haunting you. The distance between you and your old life grew bigger until eventually, you reached the other side of the country, hundreds of miles from the hell you escaped from. There was nothing left in your past to exist for, so you became someone else. You lost yourself and gained a stranger’s identity in return. Someone who wasn’t scarred from a battle that she almost fully lost.

You thought it would be easy to pretend to be someone else, someone without the same wounds that have been inflicted on you, but that turned out to be the wrong thing to believe.

Claire’s voice rings out again. “What’s going on with you, Liv?” she asks.

You’re not really present at the moment, but this time, you hear her.

You shake your head. “Nothing.” It’s a blatant lie, but it rolls over your tongue so easily, you are tempted to believe it yourself before your friend even can.

“You keep zoning out,” she says. “You’re not helping your case.”

“It’s been a long day, that’s all. What’s going on with you?”

Her lips part in a soft exhale. You hit the nail right on the head. “Nothing’s going on with me. I just had to take a sick day. Migraines, you know? I get them sometimes.”

You don’t buy it. Her voice sounds strained, but more like she is forcing herself to sound sicker than she is. Not that you are allowed to judge, it simply strikes you as odd, considering that she isn’t usually like this, and it makes you wonder what else she is keeping from you.

A pregnant pause follows. “I heard about the girl,” Claire says then, changing the subject. You’re both way too good at that. You’re hypocrites.

“Annie,” you cut her off. “Her name’s—was Annie.”

You keep replaying it over and over in your mind. From the moment you received the page to the ER to the little girl landing on your operating table, you retrace all of your steps. You rethink every decision you made, every uttered order, every cut, and every stitch. Every time you do, you come up empty.

Annie was six years old. She got hit by an oncoming car. It was a gruesome sight, but you kept telling yourself that it could have been worse. She was stabilizing when you took her to the operating room. All the tests suggested that controlling the damage could buy some valuable time for the specialists to do their jobs. In your mind, the path was clear to a full recovery.

Everything you did to save her life ended up doing absolutely nothing.

It elicited a feeling that you are more than used to—inadequacy. You know that it is utterly selfish to think that way; this isn’t even about you. The feeling wraps like a noose around your heart, but you can’t allow yourself to make this about you. You’re not that type of person.

Claire takes your silence as an answer. “I logged into the hospital server and took a look at the X-rays,” she says. “That aortic tear was irreparable, as much for you as it would’ve been for the world’s best cardiothoracic surgeon. This wasn’t your fault.”

Your throat tightens. “You don’t know that,” you argue. “I could have caught it earlier. I could’ve… I could’ve done something.”

“No, Liv, you couldn’t have. But I think you know that.”

You search the depths of your mind for the right words to say, but you come up with none. “Who blabbed, anyway?” you ask.

In this case, though, the question is, who didn’t? Everyone must have heard about Annie by now, and the people around you care too much. It was bound to reach Claire’s ears eventually. You just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

Claire holds off on her answer for a moment. “Doesn’t matter,” she answers. It’s the kindest choice. “What matters is that you can’t beat yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault.” Her voice suggests that she’s smiling.

“I…I’m fine,” you lie.

“I know you’re not.”

“You’re the one who called in sick but clearly isn’t. You don’t see me bugging you about it.”

That shuts her up for a moment. “This isn’t about me,” Claire tries to talk herself out of it, but you see right through her.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I—” She sighs. “I promise you, if there was something going on, I’d tell you.”

You should return the sentiment. You should tell her what you’re really thinking, but you’re mute. When it comes to your own feelings, all words in the English dictionary elude you.

Still, the feeling that Claire is lying to you keeps eating away at you. She has no reason to. Or maybe she has, but it’s none of your business. You’re curious, maybe a little worried, but you can’t expect her to tell you every little thing about her life and then refuse to do the same because you can’t possibly ask for help with something you don’t even understand yourself.

You’re miserable enough as it is. You would rather suffer through it alone than bother her with your chronic overthinking and the fear of failure.

“I’m still cat-sitting for Jenny,” she breaks you out of your thoughts.

You chuckle slightly. “But you’re allergic to cats,” you say.

“I know, but…” She stops herself. “The point is, I still have an almost full bottle of white wine in the fridge and there’s this deliciously cheap pizza place around the corner. Their breadsticks are to die for, trust me. You could come over after your shift and we could look after that stupid cat together. Maybe. Just until we both feel better.”

Until you both feel better. You feel like it would take more than wine and pizza to make you feel better.

You need to sulk. You need to marinate in your misery. That way, you can suck it up and be better next time. Everything else seems like too much of a waste of time.

You shatter what little hope she had about you agreeing to her offer like a full wine glass on a white cloth, sure to leave stains. Your hand momentarily motions toward the stack of paperwork, but then you remember that she can’t see over the phone. “I wish I could,” you say, “but I have to finish my surgical reports by tomorrow.”

Claire nods slowly. “Are you sure it’s the paperwork?”

“I promise.”

She accepts defeat. She can’t change your mind. You’re stubborn, determined, and a pain in the ass most of the time. She still loves you, but she has long given up on forcing you out of your shell.

Sometimes, which is more often than not, you prefer to be miserable because you have no idea how to be anything else.

“Well, I tried. So… at least call me if you need anything,” she says.

You offer her a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You’re tired. Your heart is pounding from all the caffeine and the frustration of the unknown. You have paperwork. As long as you have paperwork, you’re occupied. It’s as good a reason to avoid talking about anything that could be considered even remotely personal.

“Thank you, Claire. For everything,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you later.”

You hate that you’re like this, but you can’t change who you are now or what all those years of suffering have made out of you. You can’t change the fact that underneath Olivia Clarke, it is not who you are. And it will never be who you are because her identity is a fraud.

You may have escaped the worst time of your life and traded it for a fresh start, but that doesn’t take away the paralyzing fear that still sits deep in your bones, making it impossible for you to sleep at night. It may be a fresh start to a new life, but the slate is far from clean. There are bloodstains that you can’t get out. Stains that will haunt you forever.

Every day and every night that you spend at the hospital, you’re reminded of the terrible past that threatens to overshadow your future whenever you set foot outside. Your name may be Olivia Clarke, but that will never be your real name, no matter how badly you try to pretend it to be. And on some days, it breaks you just a little more when you fail at the one thing you have always excelled at. The one thing you have dedicated your life to. To do something good, to be worth something, and to prove the cruel monsters in your mind wrong about their assessment of you.

You don’t want to be a coward. You don’t want to be weak. You don’t want to be dependent on anything or anyone ever again. You forgot how to be happy. You became someone you’re not because the person you used to be was broken by someone she thought she could trust.

He took everything from you, and he took all that you are. Olivia was never taken advantage of.

Claire saved your life. She knows the truth, but facts aren’t enough. She’s your only support system, the only one who knows who you truly are, deep down, and yet she knows nothing at all.

Long after you’ve hung up the phone, you start wandering the halls of Metro General. You haven’t quite figured out what you’re looking for yet. You want to be alone. You want to be not needed. You want to exist somewhere that isn’t here. And you don’t want to be found, just for a little while.

When you get settled on an empty bed in one of internal medicine’s abandoned hallways that had to be emptied after severe budget cuts affected the hospital, the tears start pouring out without warning. You barely manage to stifle the sobs that slip past your lips. You hate crying. You used to believe that it was a sign of weakness, but tears have become as much of a partner in crime to you as the pain has.

It’s not as easy as it used to be to hold all of those treacherous feelings in—feelings you don’t even understand yourself—and that makes you hate yourself enough to cry even harder. Because you try, try, and you try even harder as you give all of yourself over and over again to be someone you never thought you would turn into, and still, you find yourself failing more times than you could possibly count.

Your life ended when you met the man who ruined you; ever since then, you have only been a shell of the person you used to be, and there is seemingly nothing you can do about it other than accept that Olivia Clarke is who you are now, and she is all you can be.

You didn’t expect another lonely soul in need of an escape to find his way to your little haven. This hallway isn’t even on the hospital map anymore, but he still somehow found his way here.

Your eyes switch to his cane, the red glasses, and the way he so awkwardly carries himself when he seems to realize that he, in fact, isn’t alone. You know that feeling of instant disappointment all too well, and he just caught you crying, which only makes matters worse.

After the initial awkwardness has dissipated and you get to talking, you take a moment to appreciate him. His name is Matthew. He is a defense attorney. He is unlike any man you’ve ever met before. You’re cautious when it comes to new people, but there is something almost calm about him. He’s funny, charming, and he’s respectful. He made you feel comfortable from the start.

There is a mystery surrounding him. You know all about mysteries. They draw you in. They make you feel less alone in a way. He is the biggest one you have encountered so far.

People tend to consider you an enigma, too. Most of them are wary of you because you barely share anything about yourself. You’re still learning, even after two years, to be someone new. You’re constantly reinventing yourself because all you were before is gone now. You lost yourself in the fire. So, most people you meet don’t talk much when they do; you’ve gotten used to having only one friend. It keeps your identity safe, as guarded as you are. It’s the safest bet for everyone involved—or everyone not involved.

Matthew is different. He seems genuinely curious, but he doesn’t pry. And that makes you open yourself up to him, even if it is just your body language. He’s sitting right next to you, his calm voice like a gentle symphony in your ear. He serenades you every time he speaks. That is a dangerous quality. He’s an attractive man, and you can’t keep your eyes off of him. You can’t stop listening. He’s like a work of art—a damaged work of art.

The man before you is broken and bruised. That’s what makes him so mysterious. The hesitation you showed when he introduced himself, indirectly asking for a piece of you in return, shows when you ask about his injuries.

You have seen all kinds of injuries, including those on a blind man who fell down the stairs. Matthew doesn’t fit the profile, and that only makes him more mysterious and therefore more interesting to you.

You have to stop yourself before you ask too many questions. You don’t want to push him away, but you also can’t draw him in. You can be nice, but that is as far as you are willing to go. You hold your walls so high that no one can break through them, no matter how fascinating or attractive they are.

Matthew is a dangerous man because he makes you feel things that you have long told yourself never to feel again. But it’s hard when he makes it so easy to like him.

You patch him up. It’s not just professional courtesy; he seems like he desperately needs someone to look after him. You are being nice to him, that is all. You keep telling yourself the same thing.

You’re still disappointed when you get paged to the emergency room and you have to leave him behind. The chances that you will see him again are low, and they shrink to zero when you return to the hallway four hours later and find it dark and empty again. The plastic packaging of the bandages you used on him is still lying around, but that is all that is left of him. All you have is a memory of a very unexpected encounter that will probably never occur again.

But maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, after all. At least like this, you can’t make the mistake of falling for a guy claiming to be nice. At least like this, you can keep your fragile and already broken heart safe from enduring the same kind of pain ever again.

You pass the nurse’s station in the emergency room on your way out. Dropping the chart of your last patient on the counter, you wish everyone a good night.

“Liv, before you leave–” One of the senior nurses stops you dead in your tracks, “Someone left a card for you,” she says.

You turn around, frowning at her. “A card?” you ask. “Who did?”

Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Handsome fella. And he had good manners.”

Your mind reels. There are only a handful of people that would fit that description. Every time someone leaves something behind for you, your first response is to panic. Your blood pressure spikes. You can feel your heart beating up to your throat and your vision blurs. You’re not a fan of the suspense or knowing grins, and it’s obvious.

The nurse’s smile fades and she rummages through the stack of papers next to the computer. “He only knew your first name and his blindness made it a bit harder to figure out who he was talking about, but thankfully we only have one excellent trauma surgeon named Olivia,” she says, her eyes still twinkling. She can’t help it.

You let out an audible exhale. Your body relaxes. Your heart rate slows down. You can finally see her clearly again, and she slides the card across the counter for you to take. You want to apologize for the hostility, but her face tells you that she understands.

The next time your heart starts beating faster, it isn’t out of panic. You look down at the names on the card and the distinctive number on the back, and your brain releases a sudden rush of dopamine. It’s late, you’re tired, but somehow this little gesture puts a surprising smile on your face.

You shouldn’t be as excited as you are. Your plan for this evening has been tossed far out of the window in an instant.

“So,” the nurse asks, “who is he? A patient? A friend?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “A guy from Hinge?”

You shake your head. “Just… a guy I met,” you answer.

If he were an official patient, this would be highly unethical and you would have to toss his number into the nearest trash can.

The blood has permanently settled into your cheeks. You’re not usually the kind of person who blushes. It’s infuriating.

With a chuckle, she leans over. “Well, either way, the guy was smoking. Said you should give him a call. I hope for your sake that you do.”

You keep twisting and turning the card. “What else did he say?”

“Not much. Just said that I should give this to you and that you should call him if you want. You must’ve made quite the impression.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. You would’ve never suspected this. You are essentially still a stranger to him, and he still left you his number. He wants you to call him.

It makes no sense, and yet it flatters you like nothing has in quite a while.

You let out a soft sigh before stuffing the card into the pocket of your coat. Looking up, you meet the nurse’s curious eyes.

Your mind is taking its time to process your thoughts and the feelings connected to your thoughts.

She chuckles at the bewildered look in your eyes. You must look like a fool. “Where does one meet a specimen like that anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?” she says. “‘Cause I desperately need me one of those.”

A beat of silence follows. Then, you wet your lips and answer, “Abandoned hallways. Way more effective than Hinge, apparently.”

The subtle joke makes her laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You put in the effort to fake a smile with your nod. “Well, thank you,” you say. “You guys have a good shift. If you need anything, page me.”

“Will do,” she says. The other nurses nod. Of course, they listened in on your conversation.

With another small wave in their general direction, you make your way outside into the cool night air. You retrieve the business card from your coat, your eyes roaming over the names carefully printed on it, and the Braille that has been added for obvious reasons.

Nelson & Murdock. Attorneys at law.

From what he told you, this is probably the only somewhat expensive thing he and his partner afforded for a semi-successful marketing plan for their practice. It almost makes you chuckle.

Matt Murdock is a very fascinating man, though as you stare at the card and the number on the back you can’t help but feel a slight hint of unease bubble up in your chest, and you ask yourself, what did you get yourself into?

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yourfavangstwriter · 5 months ago

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A Second Chance with the Soldier

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem! reader - MAJOR ANGST

Summary: Steve loves you. He has since the moment he saw you, but he what he wants more than anything is for you to see how worthy you truly are!

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING mentions Child Sexual Abuse, Physical abuse, violence, fighting

Word count: 15k

“Hurry up…he’ll be here soon, and I want to get a good seat at the front”

“Urgh…do I really have to go with you”

“PLEASEEEEEE, I don’t want to be left alone with all those stinky boys. You’re the only other girl so I want to sit with you. At the front.”

“How about this…” I begin.

One thing about my best friend Elle is that she is persistent. She will wear you down until you give in, but I think that’s one of the things I love most about her. Being the only 2 females in our entire section in the army, we have no choice but to have each other’s backs. There’s nothing wrong with the guys, but there’s only so much testosterone a girl can withstand, and in the sea of brothers, she’s my sister. The best sister and friend I could have ever asked for. Not to mention the perfect soldier. We know we’ll always have each other’s backs, both on and off the battlefield. Which is why I would do anything for her. Including going to see Steve Rogers’ ‘inspiring speech for the soldiers’ this afternoon.

I’d much prefer to be doing anything else. Admittedly the thought of attending an inspiring talk for the army makes me want to scream. Just the thought of the army makes me want to scream. Don’t get me wrong, my 8 years as a soldier have been wonderful. They gave me a home, money, skills, and friends for a lifetime. But it’s not my calling anymore. I yearn for more. And I’ve already began my discharge process with my CO. Not that I’ve told Elle…or anyone else for that matter. So the thought of Steve Rogers talking at me for 2 hours about all the positive aspects of serving your country makes me feel violently ill. I was hoping Elle would find someone else to go with so I can stay back and start job and apartment hunting. The pros of living in the barracks was being able to squirrel away quite a bit of money. Not enough to never work again, but I have enough for a deposit on an apartment and to be able to live comfortably for a few months whilst looking for a job. The cons of living on the barracks are that you’re basically never alone. And given that I haven’t told anyone I’m leaving, I can’t quite whip out my laptop and start looking in front of them.

“If I agree to come and sit with you, you’ll let me leave halfway through”.

“AHHHH you’re the best” Elle screams, practically dragging me off my bed and into the hallway, with so much energy I can barely contain my laughter. It will only be an hour at most for me, so how bad can it be?

Steve’s POV

Public speaking has never been one of my strong suits. It makes me uncomfortable on a whole other level. All those eyes staring at me make me feel like the small skinny kid from Brooklyn all over again. Poor Bucky has been made to listen to my speech 3 times this morning to make sure I don’t stumble, and I still feel awful. Or I did, until I stepped onto to the small podium set up and looked down to the front row to see the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Her y/h/c hair was pulled up into a tight military standard bun, but that just meant her other features were accentuated. Her round cheeks and sharp nose were striking, but most beautiful of all were her eyes. The y/e/c orbs bore a tired expression yet were still enchanting. Averting my gaze was difficult, but upon doing so I noticed there was only one other woman in the room with her. And she was sat next to her…looking far more excited. In fact, every other face in the room bore excitement and happiness, except hers. So why is she sat in the first row?

After an hour I decided to take a break. The woman in the front row was distracting me too much. Every time I looked at her, I found it hard to look away, which distracted me and made me stumble a few times. When I got to the door to exit the room, I heard too many voices. I knew they would all swamp me at some point, but I didn’t think it would be this early on. Usually, they wait to the end. When I turned around to find somewhere else to go, I saw a flash of camo exit out of a slowly closing fire exit. ‘I wonder where she’s going’ I thought and decided to follow her.

Evidently, she had run from where I saw her, but all barracks are pretty much laid out the same and given the number of speeches I’ve given and barracks I’ve been in, I’m 99% certain I can find my way to the mess hall at least.

Evidently the mystery woman didn’t want to hang around because by the time I got out of the door she was gone. I was hoping to catch up to her and figure out if her early exit was because the speech was terrible or if there was something else bothering her. Bucky told me the speech was fine, but I have a feeling he would’ve said anything in the end which meant he wouldn’t have to listen to another word. But I needn’t have worried over finding her, as upon entering what I assumed was the mess hall, I noticed a figure huddled in the corner, back facing the door as she scrolled on a laptop.

I know I shouldn’t pry; my mother raised me better than that, but my learnt stealth from being a super soldier meant I could take a few steps closer to see what she was doing. I relaxed when I realised, she was apartment hunting. It wasn’t my speech that gave her that faraway look thanks goodness! The closer I got, the more I could smell her. An entrancing floral smell. Addicting. What I’d want my home to smell like after coming home from a difficult mission. Rolling over in bed and catching a whiff from her pillow. Her pillow? Wait what? What am I saying. I don’t even know this girl. Before I allowed my thoughts to spiral even more, I decided now was the time to strike up conversation.

“Barracks accommodation that bad huh?”

“JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FU-…oh” she screamed turning around at the same time. But when she saw me, she stopped.

“No please, carry on. Cuss me out, I deserved that.” I replied sheepishly.

“N…no, of course you didn’t. You just scared me that’s all, sorry sir.” She murmured quietly as she stood and saluted.

“No need to salute soldier. Or call me sir, it’s just Steve” I know it’s been drilled into her over and over to always salute the higher ups, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the formality of it all.

“Sorry Sir…I mean Steve” she replied somewhat shyly.

“I came to ask why you looked like you’d rather be stationed in a war zone that be in that front row earlier. You escaped pretty fast too. It wasn’t that boring, was it?”

“Oh gosh no Sir! STEVE!” She corrected rather quickly and loudly. There was a tinge of red to her cheeks which made me smile.

“It was quite inspiring really. I think it would have been better for people considering enlisting though. Not those already signed up. Every one of us in that room knows what sacrifice for the country looks like. None more than you of course…I’m sorry” she quickly backtracked, looking sheepish when she realised the tangent she went on.

“No, no. This feedback is good. I encourage it. People are always too quick to blow steam up my ass. I appreciate the honesty.” She looked rather shocked by my reply. Either that or the language.

“Now I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use that type of language in front of a beautiful dame.” Now she really blushed. I smiled again. “Just want to quell the golden boy image Stark is so keen to persist.” She laughed at that, and boy was it the nicest laugh I’ve heard in a while.

“You don’t need to watch your language around me. Trust me. Army boys don’t know how to speak without accompanying every other word with a colourful French word.” She replied, shuffling over and offering me a seat at the bench.

“Ah I understand. Thank you. Now, is it too nosy to ask why you fled so quickly.”

“I suppose not. I’m apartment hunting.”

“Ah, say no more.”

“Yeah….” She murmured, glancing glumly back at the computer screen.

“Is the barracks really that bad?” I questioned, growing slightly concerned. Being Captain America has certain perks, and I can pull certain strings. If there’s one thing I’ll advocate for, it’s the comfort of our soldiers. Having been one myself, I know it’s not easy.

“Well, they aren’t the best. But that’s not why. I leave the army in 2 weeks and have yet to find somewhere.”

“Ah…any particular reason why?”

“I just don’t feel fulfilled anymore. The army used to give me pride. I felt like I was doing something good. A reason to feel proud of myself. But after 2 tours of Afghanistan and 1 of Iraq, I often feel like I left more of a mess than what greeted me. I guess I just need to find what motivates me again.”

“I meant, was there any particular reason why you couldn’t find an apartment. There are a few apartments in my building that are vacant.” I replied grinning, but it was clear she didn’t take it that way. She began to blush even harder.

“But I understand what you were saying” I hastened to add. “It’s like a calling. A yearning to help people. And if you don’t feel that calling anymore, then it’s hard to carry on in the job. Sometimes I go through periods of doubt about what I do to.” She visibly relaxed at my understanding, making me feel 100 times better.

“It’s not that I don’t feel the yearning anymore. I think I will always feel. What I was born to do. I’ve just become disenfranchised with job. I don’t seem to be helping people at the minute.” My heart warmed at her honesty. It feels quite rare to find others who feel the same way.

“Do you have any other jobs in mind at the moment?”

“No, why. Any spare avenger jobs going?” She quipped back with a grin, making me smile in return. God, she has a beautiful smile.

“Not quite avenger level, no. But S.H.I.E.L.D. are recruiting for agents again. They always give first dibs to ex-military, and a kind word from me can get you straight through to an interview.” The look of shock on her face was pleasing.

“Really? You could do that? An actual agent. I didn’t think I was qualified enough” she mumbled to herself, but super soldier hearing meant I heard every word.

“Why wouldn’t you be? Trust me, I work with them day in, day out. They’re no different from you. You have the right attitude, and whilst I haven’t seen your combat training, I’m sure it’s satisfactory if you survived three tours in some of the most active war zones.”

“How do you know where we served?”

“I like to know who my men, and women, are” I replied, somewhat sheepishly, having to admit that I got Stark to background search every soldier here. It’s true that ex-military make the best agents.

“Oh. Well, I’ll definitely think about it. I can’t lie, waitressing really doesn’t appeal to me, and that’s all that comes up.”

“Well, accommodation comes included so, here take my card and give me a call when you decide. I’ll send over the application form and when I see you’ve submitted it, I’ll start pulling strings.” I winked, handing over my card with my personal number on. Usually, I’d give out my business card, but something about this woman made me feel like giving her my personal would be better.

Y/N’s POV.

Holy shit. Captain America gave me his number.

“Walk me out?” He started as he got up from the bench. Still in shock, I pocketed the card and started to lead him to the main gate.

“Don’t you have to finish the talk?” I suddenly remembered.

“Nah…I’ll blow it off as some avenger emergency or something like that.”

“Fair enough, I’ll pretend I never saw you” I reply with a grin. He hesitated as though he wanted to say something else, but instead just smirked and headed out of the gate. Just before he ducked into the car, he called out.

“Hey y/n. Don’t lose my number.” I sucked in a breath. I thought he’d been quite flirtatious when he called me a ‘beautiful dame’, but I didn’t want to just assume. “We could really use some people like you with your kind of attitudes at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Oh.

“Sure…I’ll…I’ll think about it.” I stuttered out, drowning in embarrassment. How on earth could I think that the Captain America would be flirting with me. With that, he winked, closed the door and sped off.

“Why is Captain America scouting you for S.H.I.E.L.D?” Asked a very angry Elle.

“Elle…” I started but couldn’t say anymore.

“Forget it…” she mumbled dejectedly as she raced back inside. Great. This was going to be a very nice conversation. Not.

6 WEEKS LATER

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” Shouted the very handsome Captain.

When he visited the barracks, and when we met for coffee to discuss my application, he wore civilian clothing, but today he wore his suit, tied at the waste with a black under armour shirt on top that showed every single muscle. Not salivating at the mouth was going to be harder than a dog not drooling in a butcher. He was accompanied by a fierce looking Bucky Barnes, and cheeky looking Sam Wilson.

“Looking for me?” I replied, slightly shocked and also embarrassed under the gazes I was getting.

“Of course! And I brought reinforcements to help move your stuff” he smiled, pointing to Bucky and Sam.

“Oh gosh, that really isn’t necessary. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but no one else has help.”

“They have their families” Bucky replied.

Whilst looking incredibly miserable, a closer look at his eyes showed life. Love. Happiness. Coming from a place of healing. And also understanding. Of course, the former spy had noted the lack of familial assistance I had compared to everyone else. I was hoping Elle might help but she still hasn’t forgiven me for not telling her sooner.

“Where are your family y/n?” Sam Wilson questioned, smiling also at me, clearly picking up on my unease.

“Out of town” I replied way too quickly, and by the look on the three avengers’ faces, they knew I did too.

“Well, we’re here now, so show us where your car is, and Buck and I can grab some boxes whilst Steve shows you to your room. He pulled some strings to get you on the nicer side of the tower”

Sam winked. A glance at Steve told me they weren’t making it up.

“I told you don’t call me Buck”

“What you gonna do Maggie?”

“Maggie??” Steve asked looking incredibly confused, but also very done with their bickering. Something about the way he allowed it to ensue told me this was quite a frequent occurrence.

“Short for magnet. Like his arm” Sam replied, trying not to smile but failing miserably.

“Jesus wept”

“Shut it bird brain” both Steve and Bucky replied at the same time.

“Here, take my keys, it’s the white one over there” I replied, tossing Bucky the keys, hoping to break up whatever quarrel they were having now.

After some resistance on my part, Steve took the box and suitcase I was carrying whilst I went to the reception desk to sign in and pick up my keys. Because I was with Steve, his advanced authorisation meant we got to take the nice elevator with the view of New York. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it.” Steve mumbled, very close to my neck. So close, in fact, I could feel his breath sweep over the tiny hairs there.

“Yes.” One word was all I could manage. From both shock and his closeness, and at the view.

Looking down to the ground, we both saw Bucky and Sam clearly squabbling over who got to carry the largest box. It looked like Bucky was winning, but he does have the metal arm.

“I know you Avengers value your private lives, but I’m sure a gay wedding between the falcon and the winter solider would have broken the internet”. Steve let out a mighty howl at that and doubled over, nearly dropping the box, and was laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but laugh with him. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to be laughing as well as they tripled in intensity when Steve straightened up and looked at me.

“Well, if there was a wedding, I wasn’t invited” he smirked. “Don’t worry, they’re like this all the time. But I know they have each other’s backs which matters more to me than anything else.” It was sweet how much he seemed to care.

“That’s nice to see” I commented, thinking longingly about Elle. He seemed to notice.

“Everything okay”

“Yes. Yes. It’s fine. I’m just tired that’s all. Been a long day”

“Well as soon as they figure out who can carry a box, we can leave you to unpack. It’s an early start tomorrow. 5am.” He smiled understandingly.

“Early!! Practically a lie in in comparison” I joked.

“Ah. A fellow early bird. Sometimes the three of us go running in the mornings. You’re more than welcome to join us”.

“If there’s one thing I didn’t do enough of it was running. I think I’ll give it a miss but thank you though.” The thought of plain ol’ me running with three superheroes was daunting to say the least.

The room Steve secured for me is incredible. Floor to ceiling windows that offered the best view of New York, with a huge bed in the middle, and a gigantic bathroom with a huge porcelain bathtub in the middle.

“Wow Steve. Please tell me every other trainee has a room like this.”

“Well...they all have beds and bathtubs and windows” he teases, after watching my awe-struck gaze.

“But not like these” I finish.

“By no means are they shabby. But it’s just a double instead of a king, and there’s no bathtub. But they do have windows. Obviously. They’re the floor below us” he adds.

“Us?” I squeak out.

“You’re sharing with us doll. In Steve’s defence, they had run out of rooms for the recruits. For all the brains Stark’s supposed to have, he can’t count enough rooms out.” Quipped Bucky carrying three boxes, followed by Sam who had the remaining suitcase and a potted plant.

“No shit” I burst out, then slapped my hand over my mouth when I realised what I said. That made them chuckle.

“Please don’t feel like you need to watch your language doll. You say military are bad. Wait until you spend 5 minutes with Stark” Steve comforted.

“Steve mentioned you were military.” Sam said, with a questioning tone. As Bucky deposited my car keys back into my hand I saw the questioning in his eyes again as well.

“Medical corps. Afghanistan and Iraq. 3 years” I offered.

“SHIT. I KNEW I RECOGNISED YOU. DO YOU RECOGNISE ME?” Sam burst out, jumping Bucky causing him to scowl again.

“Of course I do, I see your face on the news every other day.” I quipped.

“Why every other day?” Sam distractedly asked.

“Because I don’t watch it every day.” Steve and Bucky snickered at my response.

“Fairs. But anyway. Iraq. Me and a guy called Riley. We both had bullet wounds and you patched us up.” Sam probed.

“Of course!” I replied, immediately remembering this time. “Glad to know you made it out alive. I was sorry to hear about your friend though”

“Me too kid. You were with another chick that day. What was her name? Ellie, Elena??”

“Elle” I supply.

“Yes, Elle. She was cute. What happened to her. Please tell me she’s still alive” he smirked.

“Yes. Elle is still very much alive. And serving. We actually room shared back at the barracks.” I replied, even though the thought of Elle made my chest pang.

“Bring her round some time, yeah?” Sam asked. I didn’t know what to say in return. How do I tell them she’s not talking to me at the minute. I barely know the guys. I’m not going to offload onto them like that.

“Errrr” I started.

“Alright guys, that’s enough grilling. Let’s leave y/n to settle in and unpack.” Steve said, placing a large warm hand on my shoulder in comfort. When we met for coffee a few weeks ago it accidentally slipped that Elle wasn’t talking to me, so thankfully he knows the situation enough not to pry.

“That’s all you have??” Bucky asked quite shocked.

“Military life. No time or space for possessions.” I offer back. A quick, fixed answer I give every time I move, and people comment on my lack of possessions.

The real reason is that I left home when I was 16 with only the clothes on my back. Only Elle knows why. My heart hurts just thinking about her. Bucky smiled back at me, and a glance at the other two revealed similar expressions of understanding.

“We’re all military men, so we know better than most.” Sam answered with sincerity.

“Thanks guys.” I squeaked out, feeling overwhelmed at their niceness. “See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

5 Months later….

STEVE’S POV

“Stop. Pulling. Your. PUNCHES” y/n all but screamed at me.

Every word was punctuated with a hit, but they were sloppy. She’s distracted by something, and I can tell, which is why I am pulling my punches. If I hurt her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Over the last 6 months y/n has excelled in the program, quickly rising the ranks to become one of the best trainees. I know for a fact that Fury is already eyeing her up for additional training in a few weeks when she graduates to support Avenger missions. With her accomplishments, I find my respect and admiration for her growing more and more. I know that Elle still hasn’t spoken to her, but she manages to push it to the back of her mind and continue kicking ass both physically and mentally in the aptitude tests. Even Tony pulled me aside and said I’d made a good spot with her. However, given that we basically live together, train together (I as her mentor, and she as my mentee), and spend a lot of free time together (not that I am complaining though), I think I know her well enough to figure out that the situation with Elle isn’t her only distraction.

A few weeks ago, y/n, Sam, Bucky and I were returning from a run in the morning when we passed a man. A man who made y/n stop in her tracks. Her bright smile vanished, eyes becoming glazed, and body drawing in on itself.

“Hey doll you good?” Asked Bucky, noticing y/n had dropped back, eyes following the man. I turned to look at her, and noticed the man was walking away from us, but still had his head turned to smile at y/n. Bucky’s comment snapped y/n out of her trance.

“Fine” was all she said.

“You sure. Hey, if he’s an awful ex or something we can go 10 rounds in your next hand-to-hand combat training exercise” Sam joked.

“I said it was fine. It’s fine. Now leave it.” She snapped, ducking into the nearest corridor and taking the stairs to our floor.

“What did I say?” Sam asked, genuinely confused over how he could have upset her.

“Punk” was all Bucky said as he looked at me. One thing about being friends with someone for so long is that you learn how to communicate without words.

“Oh… you’re doing the weird eye talking thing.” Sam commented.

I knew Bucky was wondering if I was going to go after her, but the way she stormed off alone told me that she needed a minute to herself alone. With that, Bucky, Sam and I made our way back up to the common room of the Avengers-only floor.

When I went to check up on y/n a few hours later, she was nowhere to be found. Clearly, she was still affected by the man in the lobby earlier. Deciding that I needed to get to the bottom of this, I pulled up the CCTV footage and used JARVIS for facial-recognition. Turns out the guy was someone called Luke Jackson, one of the finance guys up on the 4th floor, with no known connection to y/n, the trainee program, or the Avengers. And despite never seeing him around the tower again, y/n was still upset about the encounter weeks later. Yes, her punches got harder, and her attitude sharpened, but so did her eyes. Gone was the bright spark, replaced with a cold ice that only revealed anger and hurt, and today I decided I was going to get to the bottom of it.

“If I don’t pull my punches, you’ll be eating out of a tube indefinitely” I warn.

“Fuck you” she pants.

“THAT’S YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER” Brock Rumlow’s voice boomed from behind me.

I have never been bothered by the way y/n talks to me. In fact, I welcome it, because it means that we have a deeper relationship than just mentor/mentee. And I kind of deserved it, I was winding her up and I know it. But I know her well enough now to know that sometimes she pushes me, so I push back so she knows I’m there. She actually told me that herself. Which is why I oh so kindly Rumlow to do the same, he’s been on y/n’s back ever since she got here and I’m yet to find out why. Even Bucky picked up on it.

“She knows thank you Rumlow. Carry on with what you were doing” I warn sternly.

“Does she?” he sneers with that awful side smirk. God, I hate this man.

“Yes sir. My apologies Captain Rogers. Agent Rumlow. I think I’ll take my break now.” She mumbles, then practically sprints off of the training mats and is out of the room.

Before I can go after her, however, one of the other agent steps up seeing a window of opportunity. Usually, I enjoy sparring with the trainees but all I want to do right now is go after her. I’ve never seen her this distracted, and even though I see Brock go after her, I still worry because I know he will be of no help. After a quick text to Sam and Bucky to see if they will go find her, I try my best to put the issue out of mind and focus on the trainee in front of me.

Y/N’S POV

I know I’ve been distracted. In the beginning I could squash it. Missing Elle was all that bothered me, but when I was training, I managed to put it to the back of my mind enough so that I only had to unpack it at night when I was alone in my room and desperately wishing I could call her to update her about my days in training. Even I have to admit that I’ve done quite well and am proud of how quickly I’ve learnt the skills required. Bucky let me in on a little secret Steve made him swear not to tell me that THE Nick Fury was watching me to see if I would be suitable as a supporting agent for literal Avenger missions. That kept me in good spirits. That was until I saw him.

I know I swore that I wouldn’t run with literal avengers, but it is actually quite a lot of fun. Bucky and Sam race each other, and Steve always give me a cute little wave as he passes me. On the way back in from a very refreshing run, I passed him in the lobby. Wearing a suit and tie with a Stark employee ID badge on. My big brother Luke. I knew he spotted me from the way he smirked at me. It stopped me in my tracks. I thought I’d escaped him. I thought I’d never have to see him again. But somehow, he found me, and the next day when I stepped into the gym and saw Brock Rumlow waiting at the front as a trainer, I knew exactly how Luke had found me. Growing up, Brock and Luke were best buddies, much like Steve and Bucky. But the difference was that they were bullies. The meanest kind. Beating people up just for breathing too loud. Brock took one look at me, and he knew that I knew. He also knew I wouldn’t say a thing. Which is why I’ve been doing my best to keep my head down. After I stormed off that day in the lobby, I was incredibly grateful that neither Sam, Bucky nor Steve questioned me about it. But with the way Brock has been winding me up recently and leering over everything I do, I know it’s only a matter of time before someone catches on. And that time is looming dangerously close when I hear him leer at me from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going baby cakes” Urgh. That god awful nickname that he’s always called me creepily, even when I was just a kid.

“I’m due a break sir. I was headed to the mess quarters” I reply, picking up my pace. I know that if we get into a public space, he’ll leave me alone. He wouldn’t dare draw negative attention to himself.

“Tut-tut. It’s not the mess quarters, is it? You’re not in the military now sweetheart. You can’t escape him forever”

“Escape who?” booms the voice of Bucky Barnes. Never in my life have I been so grateful to see a 6ft something super soldier.

Over the past few months, Bucky has been somewhat of a brother-figure to me. The saying ‘it takes one to know one’ has never been more accurate when it comes to shared trauma. Every time I look into his eyes it’s like looking into a mirror reflection of my own…deep purple bags from lack of sleep, dull irises as the pain of the past swims across them, and pupils always darting around, waiting for the next attack. I know he sees exactly the same in me. But he never asks, and neither do I. Sometimes it’s like we function on a wavelength no one else reaches. I know when he has had a tough night, and he knows when I failed to slay my own demons.

I spun around to definitely check he was there. Brock wouldn’t dare try anything in front of the Winter Solider…even he’s not that stupid.

“See ya later baby cakes” Brock winked at me, then turned around headed back to the gym. Bucky began walking toward me.

“Baby cakes?” Bucky asked, quirking an eyebrow but coming up by the side of me as I continued walking.

“Long story” I muttered, hoping he’d drop it like he does all the other times something seems to bother me.

And at the moment, everything seems to bother me. God, they’re never going to want to keep me around after this, and the thought of it almost takes my breath away. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, to forget the past. And it seems to just keep catching up to me. Bucky seems to pick up on my melancholy.

“Hey. You know that if anything or anyone bothers you, you can always come to me. Or Steve. Or Sam. Heck, you could come to any of us, and we’d help you. We like ya y/n and we want you around.”

“Thanks Buck. I know you guys are there.” I reply, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you down here anyway?” I question, realising that he’s not scheduled for training today. He places an arm around my shoulder looking slightly sheepish as he waves his phone with his metal arm at me.

“Steve was worried about ya. Sent me and Sam looking for you, and by the looks of it, it was a good job too. I don’t like that Brock guy and I certainly don’t trust him. In fact, I’m yet to meet an agent who does.” He warns, but I can’t entirely focus on what he says as I’m too focused on the fact that Steve sent him and Sam to look for me… for me. To make sure I was okay. And they came.

“Trust me Bucky, I can handle myself.” I try to reassure him.

“Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about ya doll”.

There is so much sincerity in his eyes I find it hard not to tell him the whole thing. Realistically, I know I should tell them. They can get rid of Luke. They can protect me, and the child in me yearns for protection, but adult me knows they have much worse to deal with.

“Aww that’s cute old man” I joke, hoping to change the subject, but one look into his eyes tells me he knows what I’m doing.

I’m deflecting. Hiding something. It’s the same look he gave me when we first met, and then when I saw Luke in the lobby, and pretty much every time I’ve seen him since.

“Okay doll. I won’t push. If there’s one thing I know about you by now, it’s that if you don’t wanna talk about it, you’re not going to.”

“Thanks Buck.” Is all I can utter.

“But you can buy me lunch” he winks.

1 week later…

It’s been torture. All of the avengers got called out on an emergency mission that’s hydra-related. I’m not supposed to know that, but the avengers seem to trust me enough to tell me. 6 days ago they went, which means it’s been 6 days of Brock-related hell. He automatically took over as head-trainer and he has not let me forget it. And he definitely doesn’t pull his punches.

Thankfully at 4:37am this morning Steve sent a message to say they were all on their way back, and all completely unharmed following a highly successful mission. But that doesn’t mean they’re back yet. It’s just past 1 and still no sign, which means I’m here in the gym. Alone. With Rumlow. It’s lunchtime and all the other agents have gone, but he’s kept me back.

“I thought we’d step up your training a bit” he sneered. I heard the door open but didn’t need to look to know what he’d done. Ever since I got my dad arrested, both Luke and Brock have been looking for a way to get back at me. Now’s their chance with no one around to stop them.

STEVE’S POV

Just after lunchtime we got off the helicarrier. Covered in sweat, grime, and other people’s blood, all I wanted to do was take a shower, but the fact that y/n wasn’t there waiting like she said she would be at lunch concerned me. Her text read: “If you’re not back by lunch, I’ll go wait at the landing pad for you. Don’t leave me there hanging yeah ;)”. So, for her to not be here, when I know full-well that it’s the agents’ scheduled lunch time was extremely concerning, and Bucky and Sam seemed to pick up on my worry too.

“Come on, let’s head to the cafeteria, maybe she’s just waiting in line for food” Sam offered hopefully.

Both Sam and Bucky were also excited to see y/n, they have sort of adopted her as their younger sister and treat her as such, so I know they’re just as worried as I am.

There was still no sign of y/n in the cafeteria, but a quick glance around showed it full of other trainees. So why wasn’t she here?

“Looking for agent y/l/n?” one of them asked.

“Yes, do you know where she is?” Sam replied eagerly.

“Agent Rumlow kept her behind. Don’t want to imagine why though. Think he might have a bit of a crush on her, keeps calling her baby cakes and says he wants to ‘elevate her training’. Fucking creep.” The agent replies, but visibly pales when they realise what they said.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean…he just…”

“Don’t worry kid. Don’t tell anyone but I agree” I respond as Bucky roars out

“SON OF A BITCH” then thunders off down the corridor to the gym, causing Sam and I to quickly follow him.

“I told her he’s a creep. I told her I didn’t trust him. I knew something like this would happen” he grumbled to himself.

“What do you mean Buck?” Sam asks, voice dangerously low.

“Yeah Buck, what do you mean?” I all but growl, heart thundering at the thought of y/n being hurt at the hands of that weasel Rumlow.

“The other day when you asked us to find her, I caught him following her calling her Baby cakes. He’s been worrying me where she’s concerned for weeks but she promised me it was okay” he admitted dejectedly, but before we could respond, we heard the faint cries of y/n.

Y/N’s POV

��NO. STOP. PLEASE. LUKE NO I’M SORRY” I cry out, but he still punches me.

Brock thought it would be good for us to spar together. I know that really, it’s a cover up in the name of ‘payback’ but I thought my training would kick in. I thought I’d be able to stand up to him this time, but I guess not. Before I realise it, I’ve collapsed to the floor and curled up in the foetal position, arms over my head, being transported back to all those times when I was 13 that Luke hit me and kicked me over and over. I peek over my arm but quickly lower my head when I see his leg lifting ready to kick me. But the hit never came. Slowly I lifted my head, and my eyes connected with the beautiful, sweet, but angry blue eyes of Steve Rogers. Gently he reaches out a hand to stroke away some hair from my face that had come loose from my ponytail. I took the hand he extended to me and allowed him to pull me up into a standing position. I didn’t fight it when he tugged me closer so he could place one arm around my waist and tuck me into his chest. In fact, I welcomed it, placing my own hand on his chest and burrowing closer for protection. The flight instinct still hadn’t retreated, and I’m sure that if he wasn’t holding me, I’d have collapsed.

Before Steve could actually ask me if I was okay, and I know he was intending to as his lips were forming the words, we heard a sickening crunch and a pain-filled moan. Looking over to the sound, we saw Bucky stood over Luke who had evidently just been punched in the face, and Sam staring Rumlow down.

“How’d you like that you sick fuck?” Bucky seethed.

“Call it payback, bitch.” Luke hisses as he spits blood.

“The fuck did you just say” Sam hisses.

“You heard me. That’s for sending dad to prison”

“Watch your fucking mouth” Bucky warns again, gripping Luke by the shirt and pulling him forward.

“Buck” Steve warns, trying to deescalate the situation. He could probably tell how upset I was from my trembling that I just couldn’t control.

“What you gonna do metal man? Punch me again. She fucking deserved it” Luke smirked.

“Fuck yeah, she did. Had it comin’ for years” Brock added. And this time it was him that got his nose broken…by Sam.

“Please” I begged.

They needed to shut up. The guys couldn’t know. They weren’t supposed to know my dad went to prison and that I’m the reason he’s there. They absolutely can’t know that Luke is my brother and that I grew up with Brock. That is supposed to go to the grave.

At the sound of my voice, both Brock and Luke turned to me. They were both being held back my Sam and Bucky, but even with the added protection of 3 avengers, I still couldn’t get over the fear. It was evident that my attackers had picked up on that.

“Aw…doesn’t your boyfriend know?” Luke sneered.

“Do you want us to tell them?”

“Please. Don’t. I’ll leave…I’ll go and pretend this never happened. Please.” I begged and begged.

Steve’s arm gripped me even harder, and I felt his eyes burning into me. But I couldn’t look up and meet them because I knew I’d break. In fact, I couldn’t look at any of the guys. Shame and embarrassment at the scene I was causing filled me.

“Tell us what? What’s going on doll?” Steve probed.

“Look at you��daddy’s little plaything got Captain America wrapped around her finger”.

“ENOUGH” roared the voice of Nick Fury. Things were so intense none of us even registered the doors banging shut.

“Get these little shits out of my gym. Get them out of this goddamn tower and terminate their employment. Drop them at the bottom of the Hudson for all I care. Just get them anywhere but here.” He ordered as a swarm of agents flocked to Luke and Brock and began dragging them out. Just as Luke passed the director, Fury reached out and grabbed him.

“Don’t you ever open your mouth to her again. Both you and your precious daddy are fucked up, and I aint got no place for you here.” He sneered. My heart dropped at his comments though. He knew. Of course, he fucking knew. You can’t hide anything from these guys. Embarrassment hit me again. I tried to shrink away from Steve, but it was too late. One glance around the room revealed my worst fears. Bucky, Sam and Steve had caught on to what he said and were beginning to form their own conclusions. They were dying to ask me what he meant.

“Doll?” Bucky said, but his tone revealed it was more of a question. Shit. I’m going to have to tell them. They won’t let this go.

“I need 5” was all I said before I raced out of the room to gather my thoughts.

STEVE’S POV

What the fuck is going on? I know y/n was distracted but I didn’t realise it had something to do with Rumlow. And what did he mean with ‘daddy’s little plaything?’…I have an idea about what he could mean, but I really hope it isn’t…for the sake of my job and good image. One glance at Bucky and Sam told me they were thinking the same thing.

“Fury what the hell is going on?” Bucky asked, voice shaking with anger.

“It’s not for me to tell, but that brother of hers is a nasty piece of work. You need to find her and ask her yourself.” He replied.

“Her brother?”

“She has a brother?” both Sam and I asked at the same time. What in the world is going on?

When y/n left she said she needed 5 which was understandable, so we decided to take the time to head back to our rooms and freshen up, still dressed in tactical suits and covered in grime.

“This might be a bad time, but I don’t have any fresh towels. I forgot to do my laundry before we left.” Bucky muttered sheepishly.

“Would you like to borrow a towel?” I prompt as we head out of the elevator.

“Yes please” he smiles back, following me to my room.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later” Sam mumbles, carrying on past to his own room. The fact that he hasn’t quipped at Buck over not washing his towels reminds me of the severity of what just happened.

Upon opening my door, I was surprised to see y/n sat on the edge of my bed, tear tracks down her face.

“Baby?” I asked, prompting her to look up and hastily wipe the tears from her face. I was still stood in the door when she replied.

“I’m sorry for rushing out like that. I knew if I went back to my room I wouldn’t come back out. Also, I feel safer in here yanno. I’m sorry for invading your privacy” she mumbles. I step forward to comfort her, but she spots Bucky.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” she practically cries out, rushing up off the bed trying to get past me. I place my hands on her shoulders and guide her back to the bed.

“Don’t be silly doll”

“Sorry sweetheart, I just came to borrow a towel” Bucky admits sheepishly. At his admission she wrinkles her nose, which causes me to chuckle slightly, along with Bucky.

“I know. A grown as adult borrowing his buddy’s towel.” He jabs at himself.

“Nah, you just stink” she jokes back, prompting him to wrap an arm around her and turn her to him, but that brings her face into the light causing us to notice the now very visible bruise and split lip she was sporting from her earlier attack. Both Buck and I gasp. She tries to turn away, but he doesn’t let her.

“Oh doll, I’m so sorry we couldn’t get there in time” Buck apologises.

“What do you mean? If it wasn’t for you two and Sam, then I’d probably be holed up in the med wing by now. And that’s if Brock decided to let me live. Thank you by the way. I’m so sorry to have dragged all of you into this but I am so grateful.”

“Please don’t thank us. I’ve told you before that we care for you and want to help you”

“Yeah sweet. Don’t thank us. Just please let us in.” I beg. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on”.

I can tell that she’s thinking of letting it out. In fact, I know she was when she decided to come to my room, but when she glanced up at Bucky I realised that it was only me she intended to tell. Apparently, Bucky guessed this too.

“Say less, I’ll grab the towel and be gone” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before heading out.

“Sit down doll. I’m going to go and take a quick shower, but I’ll be straight back. You can tell me anything. It doesn’t have to be it all. Just let me in” Taking a few steps closer makes my stomach churn as I see more and more of the damage to her face.

Without realising I’ve reached a hand up to stroke the side of her face gently. I hear her breath hitch and then see her wince in pain. She notices that I’ve noticed.

“He landed a few kicks in my ribs before you got there” she admits shakily, and it’s the first time I notice the tears filling her eyes again. Placing both hands on each side of her face, I step closer.

“What did he do to you baby?” I murmur to myself, but y/n heard it. Before I can say anything else she leapt forward into my arms, planting her face into my chest and wrapping her arms around me as she sobs into me.

“Shush…it’s okay baby. I got you” I murmur wrapping my own arms around her and placing my chin on her head. I guide us to my bed to sit down but she climbs straight into my lap.

“I’m so…so…*hiccup*…sorry” she sobs.

“No…no sweetheart. You take your time”

“No…you wanted a shower and I’m stopping you” she mutters as she tries to stand up again. I pull her closer.

“You gotta stop apologising. My shower can wait. You, on the other hand, are more important and I will do anything to make you realise that.”

At my admission, she begins to visibly relax, until she looks down and notices she’s straddling my lap. A red hue emerges over her neck and cheeks, and whilst I am 100% A-OK with the proximity, I don’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable, so I slowly lower my arms which prompts her to slide off into a seated position next to me. From here, we can see out of the floor to ceiling windows, so we spend about 10 minutes just sat staring out in comfortable silence.

“Luke Jackson is my brother. Older brother. Brock Rumlow is his best friend, and they have been the best of friends since they were literal kids. Since before I was born” She begins. At this, I turn my body slightly towards her to let her know that I’m listening, but her gaze is still fixed out of the window.

“The other day when I saw Brock for the first time, it was like everything came rushing back. I knew he’d recognised me. I hoped that he’d lost contact with Luke, and then I saw him in the lobby. I should have known better. I should have told someone. Maybe this never would have happened.” Y/n mimics my movements this time and turns to face me.

“When I was 13, my school found out that my dad wasn’t treating me right, so he got arrested. Was put away with a lonnngggg sentence. Not long enough in my opinion but it’s better than nothing, I guess. Brock and Luke were pissed. Dad and Luke always got along well in the ‘hate-y/n’ fan club, and Brock fitted in really fucking well. You see they all adored my mom, but unfortunately, she died from complications stemming from my birth. So, they all blamed me. And when dad got arrested, Luke was already 18 and I had no other surviving relatives, so he had to take care of me. Already he hated me because I killed his mom, then I got his dad arrested, and then to add fuel to the fire, he had to take care of me. This anger had to be channelled somehow, so he took it out on me. Started with pushing me around a little, throwing stuff at me and calling me names. Then it progressed to full on beating me up, allowing Brock to join in, starving me, humiliating me, getting rid of all of my belongings when I was at school, locking me out. You name it, he did it, all with the help of his bestie Brock. One day when I turned 16 I had enough, so I ran away. Ran past the army recruitment office, saw they provided a place to live, and never looked back.” That son of a bitch.

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry” I breathe out.

I notice her eyes wandering to my hands, and it’s only then that I realise that I’ve been gripping the comforter too tight and have ripped it in several places. I release them and tentatively place one hand over hers. All of a sudden, tears begin cascading down her cheeks, so I tug her towards me and drag her back to the headboard, with my back laid against it and y/n curled into my side.

“I don’t usually cry this much. It’s just been so long since I’ve told anyone this. Elle is the only other person who knows.”

I didn’t know what to do with all her honesty, so the best I could do was make her feel comfortable and safe enough to cry it out. After about half an hour, her sobs quieten, but the tears are still falling.

“I know you want to ask. I heard what Fury said. And Luke.” She whispers.

Of course I want to ask, but I don’t want to seem too intrusive. She’s just admitted that I’m the only other person she’s told, and although it warms my heart that she trusts me so much, I don’t want to break that trust.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to doll.” Is all I say.

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you about Luke, but I kind of feel better now that you know. Less to hide” she sighs, wrapping an arm across my stomach and burrowing even further into me.

We’re not exactly strangers to this type of physical intimacy. Several times we have ended up in positions such as this, either from movie nights, game nights, one of Stark’s parties, or even just chilling in each other’s’ rooms. But the additional emotional intimacy elevates our closeness to another level, and it’s one I could get used to, and by the way y/n’s body language is practically screaming relaxation despite the conversation topic, I can tell she feels the same. She takes a deep breath, then pulls away from me and turns on her side to face me. I do the same.

“Please don’t think of me any differently for what I’m about to tell you. I was young…a literal child. I knew know better and I hate myself for it every day.”

My heart begins to pound. I have a gut feeling that what she is about to tell me will make my stomach churn, but I know I have to be strong for her.

“Is this to do with your father?” I question meekly. She nods.

“Baby, I would never judge you, you know that right?” She nods again.

“Okay, you can tell me.” I probe.

“When I was a child, from around the age of 7 to 13 my father…he…he” she looks up into my eyes. Gently I smile, to encourage her and let her know that it’s okay. This is a safe space.

“When I was a child, myfathersexuallyabusedme” y/n rushed out.

Y/N’S POV

The words came out as more of a jumble really, but one look at Steve’s face told me he heard and understood every word. His eyes darkened, anger swimming in throughout the pools of blue, but deep down I knew he would never hurt me, so I surprised myself by carrying on. Telling Steve of this was a lot easier than I suspected it would be, which is exactly what happened when I told Elle.

“The way my father phrased it, was that I had killed his personal ‘plaything’, so the least I could do was fill in for her whilst he looked for a replacement. I won’t go into specifics, but you can sort of guess…” I trail off.

“Jesus fucking Christ” he grumbled out, looking up at the ceiling.

His reaction caused tears to start forming again, and at my hesitation he looked back at me.

“No baby, not at you. At him. You can carry on, I’m sorry.” Jesus, could this man get any more perfect?

“At the time, I was so desperate to make him like me that I would have agreed to do anything. I didn’t really understand what he was asking of me, but I think that even if I did, I still would have agreed. I just wanted to be loved.” I admit. “I still do”. I trail off sadly.

“You are baby. You are so loved.” Steve mumbles as he pulls me back onto his chest, wrapping an arm around me. Never have I felt so safe and secure, and I feel the need to tell him.

“I’ve never felt so safe with someone before as I do with you.”

“That’s because I’m a superhero.” He brushes it off nonchalantly.

“No, it’s because you’re Steve Rogers.”

My heart does a little flip at the blush that rises on his cheeks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a slight crush on the super soldier. He’s been my go-to…my rock for 6 months now. Never have I felt so comfortable with someone before, not even Elle. But I know he’d never look twice at some rookie agent like me, and he certainly won’t now he knows how broken I am. What perfect golden boy would want damaged goods. It’s almost as if he can hear those thoughts.

“None of that was your fault sweetheart. Your father is one sick fuck, Fury got that right. Your brother and Brock are even fucking worse for condoning it. You didn’t kill your mother either. It was unfortunate circumstances. You deserved love then, and you deserve it now. And you have it now. From me, Buck, Sam, Nat, Tony…heck, even Fury has a soft spot for you. Never have I seen him lose his cool like that. He just fired one of his top agents.”

Steve’s words bring tears to my eyes again, but this time they’re accompanied with a smile.

“I love you guys too.” I admit, laying my head back onto his chest.

“Fury knows.” Is all he says.

“I know. I think I knew he’d find out somehow, with all the extensive background checks. The army found out too, but luckily, they never needed to bring it to light. He didn’t tell Bucky or Sam, right?” I panic, quickly raising my upper body again.

“No…no…shush. Relax. He said it wasn’t his place, only that your dad and brother were sick fucks/nasty pieces of work.”

“Oh, thank god. Do you think I’ll have to tell the others.”

“No, not if you don’t want to. They will completely understand. We know better than anyone else what it is like to have a dark past. Just know that they will support you no matter what…myself included.”

Gently I lay back down again, realising just how exhausted I am now that all my adrenaline has worn off. Steve senses my tiredness.

“Go to sleep baby.”

“What about your shower?” I ask, mid-yawn.

“It can wait. Everything can wait for you.” He whispers close to my ear, but I’m so exhausted that by the time it fully registers what he said, my eyes are already closed and I’m practically asleep.

STEVE’S POV

With y/n lay so cutely on my chest asleep, I have to keep reminding myself to think about anything other than what she’s just told me. Because every time I do, I go rigid with pure white, hot, blinding rage and unconsciously tense every muscle, causing her to whine in discomfort. What hurts the most is that she has only ever confided optionally in one other person, and that person hasn’t been speaking to her for 6 months. Especially since she spotted Luke and has been working with Brock. Having no one to talk to about this must have been almost impossible, hence why she was so distracted. The thought of it makes me even more grateful for my best friends Sam and Bucky. Especially for how they looked after her today. Knowing that they have her back just as much as I do eases some of my tension, and reminding myself that she came to my room to confide in me, and said she feels safest with me, not even with Captain America, but with me, Steve Rogers, makes my heart do a little flip. One final glance down at her beautiful face relaxing from her peaceful slumber causes me to shut my eyes and relax just for a little bit, but it’s not long until the exhaustion from the mission and adrenaline rush of the day catches up to me, and soon I too am floating through dream land.

A Few Days Later…

Y/N’s POV

I can’t remember the last time I felt this free. I have no secrets from Steve (other than the fact that I am crushing on him BIG TIME) and it feels so fucking nice. He’s really helped me ever since the incident, making sure I get access to proper therapy. The school offered me some when I was younger, but it was the low-grade stuff that didn’t even scrape the surface, especially as the school counsellor really wasn’t equipped to deal with such trauma.

Bucky and Sam have also been incredible. In the end I decided to tell them about it all. Telling Steve felt so freeing, and both he and my therapist helped me to understand that it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault that my mom died. It wasn’t my fault that my dad sexually abused me. It wasn’t my fault that my dad got sent to prison for the crime that HE committed, and I certainly wasn’t to blame when Brock and Luke couldn’t contain their anger.

I decided that I wanted to tell them in Steve’s room again, it had become my safe space, and with Steve holding my hand (quite literally) I plucked up the courage to tell them. Sam was super sweet, falling into his VA role with words of encouragement, telling me how proud of me he was and that he would support me no matter what. Bucky on the other hand had to be restrained by Steve for 5 minutes to prevent him from, in his own words ‘finding those little shits, detaching each of their limb’s piece by piece, and finally putting a bullet between their eyes.’ As for my dad, bucky devised the plan of ‘chopping his dick off and suffocating him with it.’ Whilst the idea of both plans was very tempting, the thought of Bucky having to face the repercussions was more concerning.

Eventually, he agreed not to carry out his plans, just fantasise about them instead, and as soon as Steve released him, he darted up and pulled me into a bear hug.

“They should have protected you, not blame you. I would have protected you. You’re like my little sister.” He whispered into my hair. I then felt two more arms wrap around me from the back, causing Bucky to groan.

“Shut up Buck, this isn’t about you.” Sam warned, but I could feel him grinning into my neck.

“He’s right though, they should have protected you. I would have protected you.” He admitted sincerely.

“I wish you two were my brothers instead” I well up, causing more tears to fall.

“Well I guess that makes it official then. You have now adopted two new brothers.” Bucky jokes, picking me up and spinning me around. Their words cause tears to form in my eyes. He places me down and gives me an earnest smile.

“Thanks guys. Love ya.” Sam pulls me into a side hug and kisses my forehead.

“Love you too girl.”

Fury gave me the option of pressing charges against Brock and Luke, but I decided not to. I was fortunate enough that I didn’t have to actually tell Fury, he just did his research, but with a strong promise from the guys not to tell anyone, and the Avengers not to pry (because of course they found out something had happened) I wanted to do my best to move on from it. The thought of having to unpack all of that in a courtroom for a bunch of random people made me want to vomit. Instead, Steve, Sam, and Bucky went on a ‘mini mission’ to locate Brock and Luke, take them to an abandoned warehouse, and quite literally threaten them within an inch of their life (well…that was mainly Bucky) that if they ever came near me again, or told a soul, then their bodies would wash up on the shores somewhere in Europe. And it seemed to have worked. They were wiped from the S.H.I.E.L.D employee database and were almost already forgotten.

Bucky took over Rumlow’s training schedule for the trainees and the change in everyone’s moods was instant. Rather than being bullied for our weaknesses, Bucky, Steve or Sam would pull us aside and help us to fix it. Now, as a team, we are stronger than ever, passing physicals and aptitude tests better than any of us did before. It feels good to know they support us. Steve also pulled me aside to tell that me that Fury is still considering me for further training to support the Avengers when we graduate in about 4 months.

On the surface, life looked pretty good. But there was still one thing I hadn’t done.

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to come here?” I asked Bucky for the hundredth time.

“Doll…please. Stop asking me. Of course it is. She passed the clearance so there are no issues. Unless she’s like secretly Hydra and this was all a ruse to infiltrate us.” He finishes with a wink. I gasp in mock shock.

“How could you say that?” I smile as I place a hand on my chest and feign hurt. Normally I would have asked Steve, but he had to go on a quick mission with Sam and given that I’m not a fully-fledged agent I needed someone to supervise her entrance to the tower for clearance. So here we are, stood side by side in front of the back entrance to the tower. I told Elle to meet me around here to prevent garnering too much attention on Bucky. You’d be amazed at how many women fawn all over him.

“You’d be surprised by what they try to do.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not Hydra. Just plain ‘ol Elle” comes a quiet voice from behind. Both Bucky and I turn around at the same time, and both of our breaths hitch. Mine from the shock of seeing her in front of me after so long and missing her so much. One look at Bucky and the heart eyes he was making at her told me all I needed to know.

“Hi” she squeaked out. I couldn’t form the words to say how I felt, so instead I rushed forward into her arms, and she welcomed me.

“I missed you so much” I whisper. We stand like that for about 5 minutes until Bucky quietly coughs behind us.

“Not that I want to break this up, but…” he trails off.

“Oh yeah…of course. Sorry Buck” I wince as I step back. He reaches his hand out to Elle.

“Hi, I’m Bucky” he winks, turning on his famous charm.

“Elle” she smiles back shyly. Well this is going to be fun.

6 Months Later…

Y/N’S POV

If you could go back in time and change the way you did things, you would. It turns out that telling people your past is very cathartic. Now, when you wake up, you actually feel the sun on your skin, not just peeking through the dark cloud that is your past. And this sun is especially bright today.

“GOOD MORNING HONEY”

“GET UP BABYDOLL”

“Guys, give the lady some respect.”

Hearing them outside your door brought the biggest of grins to your face.

“FUCK OFF” you shout back.

“Hey, I was nice to you.” Steve quips back. Of course he was. He always is. Ignoring the tiny flip your heart does when you hear his voice, you peel back the covers.

Today is probably the most important day of your life. You graduate S.H.I.E.L.D training. That’s right. You become a fully-fledged agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Move your asses weirdos. Y/N open up.” Comes the very demanding voice of your best friend Elle.

Why is she here in the tower you ask. Well, three guesses. Ever since Bucky set his eyes on her that fateful day six months ago, they’ve been absolutely smitten with each other. Within a week of meeting each other, they’d been on 4 dates and couldn’t stop gushing about each other. After a brief 2-month deployment, they became inseparable. Any day off they have together, they spend together. Both in bed and out of it. It can be sickening at times, but most of the time it’s actually really sweet to see them both so happy together. Plus, with Elle staying with Bucky all of the time, it means you get to see your best friend regularly, albeit with Bucky tagging along. But he’s more like a bodyguard, just hanging back, loitering ready to protect from any danger.

You see, Bucky loves you both but in different ways. You’re like his little sister, and ever since the incident he has turned up the protectiveness. Even though he saw and instilled the fear himself in Brock and Luke’s eyes, he still worries that they’ll turn up for one last attempt at punishment. Elle is the love of his damn life. When you know, you know. She sees him for him. There’s no Winter Soldier with her. There’s no super solider with her. He’s just Bucky.

The only problem with seeing your best friend all the time is also hearing her. All night. Bucky’s room is next to yours and opposite Steve’s which means Sams’ room is the quietest (though you can still hear EVERYTHING) which means that the 3 of you have found yourselves huddled in his room with a spontaneous movie night too many times to count. Even with the volume impossibly loud, there’s no mistaking what they’re doing, especially poor Steve with his super-hearing. The worst part is the next morning when trying not to make eye contact.

But overall, you, Steve and Sam couldn’t be happier for them two.

At this point, all 4 of them have seen you at your worse, so after quickly brushing your teeth you don’t even bother with pants or brushing your hair before you open your door.

“WHY are you 3 out here shouting like idiots.”

“BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BIG DAY GORGEOUS” Sam grins.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t make a big deal of today?” Bucky smirks.

“And your excuse golden boy?” you ask, cocking your hip as you turn towards Steve, but at his silence you bring your eyes to his face only to find that he’s not looking at yours, instead raking his gaze along your legs. You feel the blush creep up your neck, and at Bucky’s snicker you know he’s seen it too.

“Ahem” Sam coughs, also smirking.

“Sorry, what?” Steve asks shaking his head a bit, and when his gaze meets yours, he at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“It’s your big day baby, we gotta celebrate you properly starting with the best breakfast we can find.” He smirks widely at the nickname he dropped.

If there’s one thing about America’s golden boy, it’s that he is far from being a golden boy. He knows what it does to you when he calls you ‘baby’. Everyone knows what it does to you. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your affections towards him, but as a trainee it is wildly inappropriate for him to even acknowledge them. You have no idea whether or not Steve reciprocates, and even though Sam, Bucky, and even Elle try to tell you that he is just as sweet on you, you still have doubts. Technically you finished the academy weeks ago so there’s no reason why he hasn’t made a move yet. Knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way does make you feel awful, but being able to elicit these small moments of flirting fills the void just enough to get through the day. So even though it’s like slow torture, you’ll take it.

“Precisely.” Elle speaks up, breaking your trance with Steve.

“Seriously Elle, could you find a shorter t-shirt” you joke with her upon taking in her appearance.

Messy sex hair and the shortest t-shirt known to man that barely covers her tiny thong is all that adorns your best friends’ body. Meanwhile you’re stood there in an old pyjama t-shirt and wearing the ugliest boy shorts with messy bed hair. Not sex hair. If there’s was ever an image to highlight the differences between you and your best friend, it would be this. And even though you love her like a sister, it’s hard not to feel insecure in her presence when she looks so hot, and you don’t, especially with Steve here, making it painfully evident that you are not worthy of the hot super soldier. Elle is hot. She is worthy of a super soldier superhero. You are not.

With Elle being the best person in the world, she reads your emotions in your eyes, and if there’s one thing this girl knows how to do, it’s change the subject and make you feel better.

“Oh hush, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before” she winks.

“Oh that’s hot” Sam practically groans out.

“Gross” you and Elle say at the same time, wrinkling your noses.

“Hey”

“Oi” Steve and Bucky shout at the same time, each slapping Sam around the back of head.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about perv” Bucky grumbles, pulling off his own t-shirt and pulling it down over Elle which covers up considerably more.

“And that’s my…” Steve hesitates, causing you all to look at him. “Friend” he mumbles, as though in pain. You know that’s all you are, but it still hurts.

“We were roommates you freak” Elle hisses, shoving you into your room. “Bye boys. See you at breakfast” she shouts over her shoulder as she pushes you both into your room and slams the door.

“That boy is so damn soft on you” she grins.

“Elle, please. Not today.” You mumble, heading to your closet to pick out your outfit for the day, fighting the tears slowly pooling in your eyes.

“Okay babe. I won’t push it; I can tell it’s not the right time. But I’m not letting this go.” She warns as she exits your room.

You know exactly what she refers to: you pining after Steve. If there was one person who would notice, it would be her, which means she also knows how disappointed you are that Steve hasn’t made a move yet, and as today technically marks your final day as a trainee, it means he isn’t interested at all if he was going to make a move he would’ve. This means that, as of 4pm this afternoon, at the end of the ceremony you will officially be in the mourning period of what could have been with Steve. The thought of Steve not reciprocating your feelings shattered your soul. After you told Steve everything, he promised you that he didn’t see you any differently, but you can’t help but doubt that. Especially when everyone tells you Steve likes you, yet he shows no signs of it.

Graduation day officially marks the end of your trainee phase leaving you as a fully certified S.H.I.E.L.D agent, so if Steve wanted to make a move, then he could. Relationships with superiors are frowned upon as a trainee: people could argue Steve (and Bucky by virtue) gave you special treatment. Training ended 6 weeks ago with final exams already being marked and assessed, yet Steve hasn’t made a move, clearly highlighting his lack of interest, hence your glum mood. Even on a day which is supposed to be one of the best in your life, your heart feels like it is breaking in two. Of course you are insanely proud of yourself; not only did you finish top of your classes in everything, but you also faced your personal demons.

With that thought in mind, you managed to pluck up enough courage to dress somewhat nicely (though the lure of comfy loungewear was incredibly strong knowing how uncomfortable you would be in your formal S.H.I.E.L.D wear at the ceremony later on) and meet the guys in the kitchen for breakfast.

“HOT STUFF” Sam greeted loudly, running over to you and spinning you round. The affection in his actions warmed your soul, so you allowed yourself to grin widely and push your longing to the back of your mind in order to enjoy your day with everyone as much as possible. Afterall, it isn’t often that you get to enjoy all 4 of your best friends together.

A FEW HOURS LATER…

“Congratulations agent y/l/n, I can’t wait to work alongside you.” Steve said as he approached you and gathered you into a huge hug.

The ceremony where all new agents go up and collect their S.H.I.E.L.D agent badge just ended and lord were you relieved. Yes, you look smart and quite well put together, but the itch of the starchy uniform was really starting to irritate you. You couldn’t wait to get out of it and into your beautiful new dress for the afterparty later.

“Aw thanks Steve. I couldn’t have done it without you, or you two” you coo.

Several times the 3 soldiers have tried to downplay their role in your success, but honestly, without Steve’s constant support and unwavering faith in your ability to overcome your past, you wouldn’t have been able to make it through the mental demands of the job. Not only that, but Bucky and Sam became lifelines when it came to the physical side of training. Bucky helped you master wielding a weapon quicker than any trainer in the army ever did; the army taught you that it was your first line of defence, but Bucky taught you it was your last. With Sam not having any serum, he became a godsend when it came to practicing hand-to-hand combat or overcoming the physical demands of the job. Whenever you asked him to train with you, he never said no, and for that you were so grateful. Yes, you were very aware of just how fortunate you were to have all of this support.

“Ahhhh….you’re welcome doll.” Bucky grins widely, arm slung around Elle’s shoulders.

“Yeah honey, gotta make sure I know you got my back avenging.” Sam quipped.

“HA” you guffawed. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing me on any avenger missions falcon.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure agent y/l/n. You have displayed a strong character and admirable determination for growth and improvement. 6 months of regular agent duties, then I want you training with the Avengers.” Nick Fury said from behind you.

You spun around in complete shock, so surprised in fact that you missed the proud smiles on Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Elle’s faces as you met the stoic gaze of the man you held the most respect for.

“Tha..” you croaked out. With a slight cough, you began again, already feeling your blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Director Fury, Sir. It would be an honour.”

“The honour would be mine.” Is all he added, with a knowing smile. It was as clear as day for anyone to see that Fury admired your strength in dealing with your family.

“See, I told you to have more faith in yourself.” Came the deep rumble of Steve’s voice in your ear, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath caress your soft skin. Your breath hitched un your throat, and you knew Steve noticed, but with a sudden surge of confidence, you turned your head towards him and brought your gaze up to his blue eyes.

“Lucky I have you to pick me up then” you smiled earnestly.

“Always” came his soft reply, something in his gaze softening as he held your stare intensely. It was almost as though everything around you ceased to exist, until a rather excited agent interrupted.

“Sergeant Barnes, are you going to keep training us in weaponry. You’re the best the academy’s ever had.”

The agent’s exclamation startled you both, causing Steve’s head to snap up. You followed his path as you looked at the agent in question. You knew the agent had seen you and Steve positioned rather closely, and you knew Steve knew as he pushed you away from him in a desperate manner. With a grunt, he straightened the tie of his impossibly tight shirt and mumbled a quick ‘catch-up later’ before he took off into the crowd of excited new agents.

You knew the crack in your heart was painfully evident on your face as you met the sympathetic gazes of the others. Trying to summon the last of your strength, you faked a small smile and excused yourself to the refreshments section, feigning thirst.

“Fucking punk” was all you heard from Bucky as you quickly fled the scene, trying desperately to fight the tears threatening to cascade.

“Y/N! Y/N wait” Elle cried after you. She quickly caught up and softly grasped your arm to turn you towards her. One look at your teary eyes had her quickly pulling you away from the crowds and into a more secluded section. “Come on babe.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll get over it, I just need a minute.”

“Take your time. Buck said this bit is reserved for this evening so no one will come here.”

“God, even those dimwits picked up on it. How dumb can I be” you cried out, not caring how much your mascara ran anymore.

Elle gathered you up into your arms.

“Hey, hey. I won’t have you talking about my best friend like that.” She warned. “You are not stupid. Far from it. He is the stupid one for not seeing what is right in front of him.”

“No, no he’s not. He’s smart. Who the hell would want to be with me. I have baggage a mile wide. There’s nothing appealing about me.” You sobbed into Elle’s shoulder.

“That’s not true” came the deep grumble of Steve’s voice behind you, in the tone he often used when you were being too hard on yourself. You squeaked in surprise, and before you could hide behind Elle, she had pulled away and muttered a quick “I’ll give you two some space.”

You swiftly dapped at your eyes and tried to muster the most neutral face you could, but it just seemed impossible. Steve had seen you at your worst, he always saw right through you, and you knew he was all too aware that the tears were because of him.

“Baby…I…” he started, starting forward as he reached for you, but you took a step back.

“No. Please Steve, don’t do this.” You all but begged.

“Do what. I want to be honest with you.”

“Say something just to try to make me feel better.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m doing. I would never do that. Everything I say to you is honest.” He replied in a surprisingly strong voice, completely contrasting his previous tone.

“I just…god….I….I’m really” he stuttered again, voice once again becoming uncertain. He took a deep breath in, took a step towards you, and you didn’t move back this time, which seemed to encourage him to go on.

“You were so brave when you told me about your past. I’m trying to be brave like you were. God, for a super soldier I certainly lack bravery when it comes to talking.” You giggled at his rambling, watching the corners of his lips curve slightly at the sound of your laugh. This time you took the step toward him, and watched as he straightened up, as though your presence had affected him, which you knew wasn’t true.

“I like you y/n. No, in fact I love you. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Think of all the stars and planets and galaxies and universes out there, and then times that by 1 million, and then infinity and then 4 billion and then double it. That’s how much I love you. I have loved you since the moment you cussed me out for sneaking up on you. I loved your passion when you spoke about helping people, I loved your ability to see past me as an avenger, but instead spoke to me like a normal person. Like Steve. I loved you when you immediately accepted Sam and Buck bickering like an old married couple. I loved you when you first stepped into the training arena that day with so much determination to succeed. I loved how you slotted yourself right into my life the moment you got here. One minute I’m spending every minute either alone or with Sam and Buck and wondering what I’m doing wrong in life for them to be the only people seeking me out.”

You laughed again at his words but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely from your eyes. You both took a step closer to one another, this time close enough for Steve to place a hand on either side of your head, and you to brace your hands on the crisp white shirt covering his muscled chest.

“Every morning, I awake so excited to see you. For the first time in such a long time, I can barely wait to go to sleep, because it means that when I awaken in the morning, I can think of you again. Sleeping on missions used to be so hard, but now its slightly easier because I know I’ll see you in my dreams. You’re always there, waiting for me.”

“Steve” you practically whisper, watching tears gather in his own eyes as his thumbs wipe the tears from under your eyes.

“But I have never loved you more than the day you opened up to me. The courage and strength it took you to tell me made me realise just how proud of you I was. I am. That night when you lay in my arms, all I could think about was how much my heartbeat for you. Even through the rage I felt, the blinding hot rage that swarmed my mind and body and soul, every move you made, every thought about you that I had, made my heart slow. Relax. Swoon. I wanted to hurt them. Torture them, not kill them because that’s the easy way out, but I wanted them to feel the pain, but I wanted you to feel safe more. Because I love you. I can’t tell you the pain I feel in my heart when I think of what they did to you, but just know that it’s nothing compared to what I will inflict on them the next time I see them, if I ever do though it’s not likely given how much Bucky made them shit their pants.” Steve joked.

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but smile. He loved you. He loves you.

“I know I should have told you this sooner. Believe me, it has killed me to be around you but not be able to act on this. But I did it to protect you. I know you know what they would say about you if we were ever found out. It’s wrong, but that’s the way it is, and I hate it. Sam had to take over the agents’ physical training because I couldn’t bring myself to lay a finger on you, and if I can’t fight you then I can’t fight anyone.”

“Oh Steve. I thought it was because you were worried, I’d think you were going to hurt me like Luke and Brock” you cooed, stepping even closer this time and sliding your arms around to his back, underneath his suit jacket.

“No baby. I just couldn’t hurt you. I thought I was discreet about it, but it turns out everyone knows how much of a goner I am for you except you, and that kills be baby. Hell, even seeing Bucky and Elle together made my heart hurt, because that should be us. I waited until today to tell you because I wanted everyone to see just how much of an amazing person you are first. I wanted people to watch you walk across that stage on your own so that they could see just how incredible you are to achieve this without anyone’s help. I know you think we helped you, but it’s all you baby girl. You’re phenomenal. You’ve done so well to be where you are today. You’ve handled everything alone and I couldn’t be prouder, so I wanted you to have one more day where you could feel the pride in yourself that I and everyone else has for you when we see you thrive. One more day before I hopefully swoop in and tell you that you don’t need to do it on your own anymore. That I am here to help you. To help carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Before I tell you that I lov…”

You don’t let him finish his sentence before your mind takes over your body and crashes your lips to his. It was though a thousand fireworks went off in your heart as it sung for you as though an invisible string tied to Steve’s own heart pulled you both together. You moaned and groaned into each other before the lack of oxygen caused you to pull away.

Breathless, you both stood there gazing into each other’s eyes. Despite all he had said though, you still struggled to believe that he could want you. This brought a fresh onslaught of tears to your eyes, causing you to close them in attempt to keep them at bay. Steve seemed to sense this, and closed his own as he brought his forehead to your own.

“Talk to me” he soothed.

“I am not perfect.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I have so much baggage Steve.”

“Good thing I’m a super soldier then with super strength.”

“Steve, you don’t understand”

“No. I do understand sweetheart. You think I don’t have my own baggage. Hell, I’m over 100 hundred years old.”

“What if I ruin us”

“I doubt that very much”

“No…but…what if my problems are too much.”

“You could never be too much” he soothed.

No matter what worry you had, he found a way to oppose it.

“But this might not be like a normal relationship though” you whimpered.

“Why”

“Because I can’t…I don’t” you huffed in frustration.

“Now who can’t talk” he joked.

“Steeeveeee” you whined. “It’s not funny”

“It sort of his” he smiled.

“What if we can’t…you know…do what other couples do. I’ve not…since my dad…yanno”

“No, I don’t know. I need you to use your words honey” he cooed, and in that moment right then, you knew that Steve cared, already opening a line of communication for the both of you, something any healthy couple has.

“I haven’t you know…been…” you mumbled.

“Intimate?” he prompted.

“Yeah” you sighed out in relief that he finally got what you were trying to say. Looking up into the crystal blue gaze, you realised that the judgement you feared wasn’t there, prompting you to carry on.

“I’ve never been…. intimate” you struggled “with anyone but…but him” you admitted.

“Okay baby. Then we go slow. We go so slow that we could be together forever and only try it on our death beds. I don’t care. If you think I only want you because I want sex then clearly, I haven’t done a good enough job of proving just how much I love you.”

“NO! I…You…You’ve done a great job” you admit shyly as you begin to smile slightly again. “It’s just my stupid past interfering”

“It’s not stupid. It’s valid. We will figure it out. We will figure it all out together okay. Do you trust me?” he asked earnestly, looking so deeply into your eyes it was like your souls called out to each other.

“Steve. Of course I do…I love you.”

Your admission caused the man to smile so widely, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so elated. He picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that” he breathed into your head once he placed you back down. “We’re in this together okay…until the end”

“The end?” you question.

“When we’re sat on our porch holding each other watching our grandchildren and great grandchildren play as we reminisce on this very moment”.

The very thought of doing that with him makes you smile just as wide as him.

“Fuck. I love you Steve”

“I know” he grins as he kisses you again.

“FUCKING FINALLY”

“GET IT GIRL”

“TOLD YOUUUU”

You both chuckled at the mixed voices of Bucky, Sam and Elle who all stood at the edge of the area, whoop whooping and grinning so much you couldn’t help but giggle yourself. You felt Steve wrap his arms around you tightly and you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Me neither” you admit, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself completely into his embrace.

Fuck your dad. Fuck Luke, and fuck Brock, because this. They couldn’t touch this. But god help them when Steve, Sam and Buck find them again. And god help your dad on release day.

AHHHHHHH!!! Thank you guys for making it this far!!! I hope you enjoyed it :)

#Steve x reader #Steve rogers x reader #military!reader #soldier!reader #Steve rogers x military! reader angst #angst #fluff #Steve rogers angst #Steve rogers fluff #marvel #avengers #Bucky barnes #sam wilson

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stnkiconverse · 4 months ago

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you're going to do it, and you're getting away with it. you know that.

Ch.2 - The Plan

⇠ Previous

Next ⇢

genre: psychological horror (in a way), creepypasta, supernatural thriller (in a way)

pairing: none. (yet ;) )

WC: 1.8k

content warnings: echoes in the static contains scenes and themes that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers, including: graphic violence and murder, mental illness and psychological distress, suicide and self-harm, domestic abuse and strong language.

Reader discretion is advised.

Yes this has to do with Greepypastas. Yes, Creepypastas will pop up and make appearances, it's basically a reader insert into the Creepypasta word.

do not repost my work anywhere, I only post in Tumblr.

The memories of what Frank put your mother through came rushing back immediately after the funeral, as you watched him kiss another woman and drive away without a shred of remorse. The image burned into your mind, solidifying your decision. This man, who had driven your mother to despair and death, could not be allowed to continue living his life unpunished. You would make sure of that.

Back at your apartment, you sat in the dark, the glow from your laptop screen illuminating your determined face. Research became your life. For days, you delved into the dark corners of the internet, reading about unsolved murders, the meticulous plans of serial killers who evaded capture, and the critical mistakes that led to others getting caught. You learned about creating believable alibis, the best ways to dispose of a body, and methods to make remains unrecognizable. Each article, each video, was a piece of the puzzle, slowly forming the picture of your plan.

Your notebook filled with scribbles and diagrams, each page more detailed than the last. You mapped out potential scenarios, rehearsed alibis in your mind, and memorized procedures to avoid leaving any evidence behind. You even went so far as to research the forensic techniques used by police, understanding what they looked for and how to avoid detection. The perfect murder took time and patience, you reminded yourself. This was not something to rush.

---

Taking cash out of your bank account bit by bit was the first step. You knew that large withdrawals might raise suspicions, so you took only small amounts, ensuring that no one would notice. This money would be used to buy everything you needed without leaving a trail. The cashier at the hardware store didn’t look twice as you paid in cash for gloves, bleach, a lighter, a shovel and a glass knife. Each purchase was a step closer to your goal.

You carefully selected each item. A wig to change your appearance, contact lenses to alter your eye color, bigger clothes to hide your frame, men's shoes that were at least two sizes larger than your own, gloves to avoid fingerprints, two bottles of bleach, a glass knife, a lighter, a shovel and an axe. Each item had a purpose, each step a piece of the puzzle. You made sure to purchase the items from different stores and at different times, never raising suspicion.

The last item was a concert ticket, purchased with a credit card, deliberately leaving a digital footprint. This ticket was your alibi, an essential part of your plan. You chose a local concert for the night you planned to kill Frank. On the day, you would post about it on all your social media accounts, labeling it as ‘a personal day out.’ The ticket and posts would place you far from the scene of the crime, or so you hoped.

---

You began quietly stalking Frank, a shadow in the background of his life. At first, you followed him from a distance, memorizing his work schedule and noting his habits. Frank was predictable, his routines almost painfully mundane. You observed him at the house where your mother had died, watching for times when his new girlfriend wasn’t around. Those were the days you would strike. You noted the time he left for work, the days he stayed late at the station, and the evenings he spent alone at home. Your observations were meticulous, each detail recorded in your notebook.

You were careful to avoid being seen. You parked your car several blocks away and walked the rest of the distance, keeping to the shadows. You dressed in inconspicuous clothes, blending in with the surroundings. On more than one occasion, you felt the thrill of fear as Frank glanced your way, but he never seemed to notice you. The adrenaline was addictive, fueling your resolve.

Your determination was unwavering, though it took a toll on you. About twice a week, you found yourself breaking down, overcome by grief and the weight of what you were planning. The memories of your mother, her laughter, her kindness, and her pain haunted you. But each time you remembered the cold, uncaring look in Frank’s eyes, the way he had dismissed her death as if it meant nothing, your resolve hardened. This was for her. You had to do it.

---

In the flower shop, you tried to maintain a facade of normalcy. Lisa and the regular customers could tell something was off, but you brushed off their concerns with forced smiles and excuses about stress and exhaustion. You were not your usual self, and it was impossible to hide it completely, but you hoped it was enough to avoid suspicion. You continued your work, arranging flowers and helping customers, but your mind was always elsewhere, consumed by your plans.

Lisa, ever the observant friend, approached you one afternoon as you were preparing a bouquet. "Y/N, are you okay? You seem a bit... distant lately," she said, her voice full of concern.

You forced a smile, placing a vibrant red rose into the arrangement. "I'm fine, Lisa. Just a lot on my mind. It's been a rough few weeks, you know?"

She nodded sympathetically. "I understand. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," you replied, grateful for her concern but unable to confide in her. The less she knew, the better.

---

The plan was to kill Frank in his own house, the place that had been a prison for your mother. The idea of ending his life there felt fitting, poetic in a dark way. You imagined the final moments, the look of surprise and fear on his face, and the sense of justice it would bring. The phrase “You only have one chance” repeated in your head whenever you thought about it. There could be no mistakes.

You didn't perform any trial runs, convinced that everything would go perfectly. You were thorough in your planning, confident in your ability to execute it flawlessly. The phrase "You only have one chance" was a constant reminder of the stakes. The pressure was immense, but you believed in your plan and your ability to carry it out.

---

As the day of the murder approached, you made final preparations. You accepted that you wouldn’t be the same after this, but it was a price you were willing to pay. For your mother, you would sacrifice your own peace, your own soul, if necessary.

On the day, you would wear the wig and contacts, change into the larger clothes, and don the men’s shoes and gloves. You would carry the glass knife and the axe, tools of retribution. You would ensure Frank was alone, and then you would strike.

---

The concert ticket was in your pocket, a reminder of your carefully crafted alibi. You would post about the concert on social media throughout the day, creating a digital trail that would place you miles away from the scene of the crime. It was a simple yet effective plan, and you felt a strange sense of calm as the day approached.

That morning, you woke up earlier than usual, the weight of your mission pressing down on you. You looked at the mirror, your reflection almost unrecognizable. You had not slept well in weeks, and the dark circles under your eyes were a testament to the nights spent planning and grieving. You practiced your expressions, ensuring you could smile and seem genuinely excited about the concert when posting on social media.

You spent the morning going through the motions at Petals and Posies, trying to keep your mind off the evening's events. Lisa chatted with you about mundane things, the latest neighborhood gossip, and the plans she had for the weekend. You listened, nodding and responding appropriately, but your mind was far away, replaying the plan over and over.

---

As the afternoon wore on, you began to prepare. You double-checked your bag, ensuring everything was in place. The wig, contacts, oversized clothes, men's shoes, gloves, glass knife, axe, lighter and bleach – each item was checked and rechecked. You couldn’t afford to forget anything.

Your hands trembled slightly as you donned the disguise. The wig fit snugly, changing your appearance dramatically. The contact lenses felt strange at first, but you quickly adjusted. You looked in the mirror, seeing a stranger staring back. Perfect.

You then continued you contour your face to the point where there was absolutely no trace of you.

You left your apartment, making sure to post a photo of the concert ticket on social media with the caption "A personal day out. Time to enjoy some music and relax!" Your friends and few followers liked and commented, wishing you a fun time. It was surreal, knowing what you were about to do while presenting a façade of normalcy to the world.

---

Arriving at Frank's neighborhood, after having walked to it, there was adrenaline already making itself present. The men's shoes were heavy and uncomfortable, but they served their purpose, making your footprints untraceable. You moved silently and quickly, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the house.

The house was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning unit. You slipped around to the back, using the spare key you had taken from your mother’s belongings to let yourself in. The familiar scent of the house hit you, a mix of stale air and Frank's cologne. Memories flooded your mind, but you pushed them aside. This was not the time for sentimentality.

You moved through the house, your senses heightened. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric seemed amplified. You made your way to the kitchen, where you knew Frank kept a spare bottle of whiskey. If he was drinking, it would be easier to catch him off guard.

The sound of the front door opening made you freeze. Frank was home. You listened intently, hearing the clink of his keys as he tossed them on the table, followed by the familiar sound of his heavy footsteps. He was heading to the living room.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. This was it. The moment you had been planning for weeks. You felt a surge of adrenaline, your body ready for what was to come. The phrase "You only have one chance" echoed in your mind, a reminder of the stakes.

---

You peeked around the corner, seeing Frank settle into his recliner, a bottle of whiskey in hand. His eyes were closed, and he looked relaxed, oblivious to the danger lurking in his home. You tightened your grip on the glass knife, the cool weight of it grounding you.

Silently, you moved closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You could hear your own breathing, shallow and quick. The distance between you and Frank closed with every step, each one bringing you closer to your goal. Your mother’s face flashed in your mind, her smile, her laughter, her pain. This was for her.

As you stood over him, you hesitated for a brief moment, the enormity of what you were about to do hitting you. But then you remembered the bruises, the fear in your mother’s eyes, the indifference in Frank’s. Your resolve hardened.

You moved both of your hands towards Frank, the urge to immediately kill him being immense, but no. You’re gonna make him suffer, even if it’s just for a bit.

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Taglist is open, ask to be added.

🏷️: @mimmickmouse @stranger-of-the-internet

#creepypasta #fandom #slenderman #slender mansion #creepypasta fic #creepypasta x reader #new fic #horror #psychological horror #supernatural #supernatural thriller #jramblesaboutsoap #j’s fics!

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spacehostilityy · 1 year ago

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My NNT rewatch s1ep19-24

Ps these are backlogged lol I watched fast but then ran out of time for work. Posting this now bc I'm going to Appalachia to visit family and will have very little wifi lol

I know Elaine is pretty underdeveloped (nothing a little fanfic can't fix), but I do love how even in flashbacks, she's more serious and responsible than king

Why was Diane still like 6 after hundreds of years ?? Like why wouldn't they just show her aging?

ITS BEEN 500 YEARS? Meaning only a couple centuries before present?? WHY IS DIANE SO SMALL? HOW BAD WAS HER GROWTH SPURT???

Damn king rlly said mercy kill

The Druids having the technique Enslavement of the Dead is actually really cool because it shows us that the goddess race really was that fucked up from the very beginning. Like the characters realize that Ludociel and Nerobasta are not all there made out to be eventually, but we can see just from the types of abilities the druids (aka those closest to and led by the goddess race) possess

Hendrickson saying "bien, princesa" or EVEN BETTER "THAT'S A GOOD GIRL" LIKE ASDJSKFJSL hes evil and a little annoying but so fcking hot

Ban telling Meliodas he loves him and then trying to kill him while meliodas is just like bitch I'm busy we can do this later is so funny

this man gives zero fucks

Ban being the first to realize (after merlin obvi, but she always knew) that Meliodas is a demon and also being the first to accept him means so much to me. This is why I love their relationship. No matter how horrible the other seems to be (or is lol), they stand by each other. I mean not in this specific scenario, but Ban only cares bc the horn of cernunos told him to, so I don't think it really counts. (im delusional)

also I'm typing this on my laptop now and I forgot that I can type this fast ehehe AND i found a way to screenshot so no more taking pics of my laptop for meee

Something about characters begging for death (ban and meliodas) makes me become obsessed with them (i am mentally ill)

MELIODAS BEING WILLING TO LET BAN KILL HIM (if he can do so successfully lol)😭 I know he would just come back, but he would be stuck in Purgatory ASJDKFJSL I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCHHH

every day, i find out just how i much i am capable of shipping them and every day that limit is surpassed

straight besties that would literally die for each other is the ideal fictional relationship

esp bc melizabeth (my actual main ship) doesn't get rlly good until she regains her memories/is a flashback

AJSHDFKSDB FNFKS BAN PICKING UP GIL WHILE MARGARET AND VIVIAN SOB AND JUST TELLING THEM "im borrowing this"

bro i totally forgot dreyfus fucking dies how does he come back??

ok ban is having his MOMENT after finding out hendy has been using the corpse of the red demon HE killed 20 yrs ago

also I know ban is like 43 and the whole twilight argument is edward is basically just a 100 year old man so following that logic, Ban is middle aged BUT as someone who is close in age to Ban from before he became immortal, that man is the most 23 year old man to ever 23 year old man. He is chronically in his early 20s frfr

king realizing in that moment judt how wrong he was abt the destruction of the fairykings' forest is the biggest oh fuck moment lol

also i may have 🏴‍☠️ed the bandit ban ova to hurt my own feelings

hendy taunting ban by saying his demonic powers are all thanks to him and ban just saying he's "always happy to help" is such a mood honestly

hendy gets hotter with every demon transformation😔

Meliodas and Ban mourning hawk actually makes me so sad wtf

elizabeth is such a bad bitch when she awakens her power i love her

also hendy being like wow such a powerful druid as if he himself is not a druid and should know this power (and her eyes) is goddess level 🤨

i bet meliodas was shitting himself trying to see whether or not re reawakened her memories tho like damn he was actually probably so scared he would lose her in 3 days without the chance to break their curses

Diane and Ban having the exact same expression is actually rlly funny to me

LAST EP OF SEASON 1!!!!!

WAIT OMG IS HE GOING TO REVENGE COUNTER👀👀

wow i remember so little of season 1 lol

them all just beating the everloving shit out of meliodas is entirely too funny to me

HAHA i was RIGHT about revenge counter im literally a genius

😏 face down ass up babygorl

this is one of the cutest frames in the whole show fr fr😌

Diane: "Sorry we didnt come for you sooner!☺️" King: "Yeah we've never kidnapped a princess before haha :}"

so in the very last after credits scene, gil, howzer, and griamore are all standing around Dreyfus's work table staring at the drawing of meliodas's demon mark as. But as we know from other characrers later on, can have lots of different marks. Meliodas, Zeldris, and Estarossa all have the same one, but maybe this is a family thing? But if it is, why would demon!Hendy have it?? is the grey denon somehow a relatuve of the demon bros lol

anyway I FINISHED SEASON ONEEEEE

ill do a mini ramble over the ovas that netflix likes to call season 2 then move on to the read deal

#seven deadly sins #tess rambles on her nnt rewatch #nanatsu no taizai #nnt #7ds #tess rambles #meliodas #elizabeth liones #elizabeth nnt #ban nnt #diane nnt #gilthunder #howzer #hendrickson #melban #melizabeth #demon mel is best mel

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utilitycaster · 10 months ago

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I'm Reading the Drizzt Novels and You Can't Stop Me: Homeland (and some anticipated questions)

Welcome to yet another ongoing series from me, a person who should be doing other things and may abandon it but also frankly will do this for her own entertainment regardless of whether anyone else cares. Let's back up first; if you're not in this car with me, get out of the rearview mirror.

Until now I have pretty much only read the Drizzt novels in situations where I was unwell, tired, or without another easy means of entertainment. Specifically, I read the first few while quarantining with a mild but still unpleasant case of COVID in late 2022, and then some others while dealing with catching up at work/post-illness fatigue/the general vibes of December in the northeast and Midatlantic states of the US. This caught me up to book 6, which represent the scene-setting; more on this later.

I then read Book 7 on a long train ride with nothing else to do, while very tired and probably a little hungover, in January 2023. I enjoyed it, in part because Wulfgar, who I do not care for, dies. (spoilers I guess? I'm not explicitly avoiding spoilers because these books are 30+ years old, but I'm not seeking them out, and I believe he comes back to life eventually).

I then proceeded to read Real Books (TM) for the remainder of 2023, some of which I can recommend highly and some of which were dumber than Wulfgar. Flash forward to getting my car serviced in the tail end of December 2023. I intended to bring my laptop. I did not. I also intended to bring headphones. I did not. And so, with a phone with so-so battery and little interest in watching HGTV, I read book 8. And I thought "what if I started doing this, because I can knock out one of these motherfuckers in a day if I try hard enough." I then thought "what if I slam books 1-7 again and do a book a week in 2024?"

Clearly I did not do this, because again, I have other books to read and things to do. However, I have finally, after another long-ass train ride, finished a reread of book 1. And so, with an unclear but hopefully from now on twice a month at least (?) update schedule, I bring you: Homeland. The rest of these posts will probably be way shorter.

For anyone who is not familiar with Drizzt or Forgotten Realms or whatever: this is a weird choice you've made. Anyway. Forgotten Realms is THE iconic D&D setting; it's where both the Baldur's Gate series is set as well as the D&D movie plus all kinds of adventures. What's it like? Well, it's basically The Tough Guide to Fantasyland, for all my Diana Wynne Jones fans out there. Do none of these references work for you? You'll just have to pick it up as we go along.

The Legend of the Legend of Drizzt is basically, as far as I know (and I don't know much) R.A. Salvatore was hired to write some cool adventures in a D&D setting in the early 90s. The plan, per the suits, was to follow Wulfgar, who was big and blond and very Conan The Barbarian which is, I should note, way more the vibe of D&D than LOTR much as we (D&D players) are loathe to admit it. However, Wulfgar had brains made out of one of the boring adult cereals: dull, and only slightly more fibrous than the fun cereals like Honey Bunches of Oats. Meanwhile, Drizzt, his drow buddy, fucking ruled. And so, after writing three very sword-and-sorcery (or more accurately, scimitar-and-wizardry) books, Salvatore returned to fill in Drizzt's backstory. And thus we begin in Homeland.

Drizzt Do'Urden is a drow, or dark elf, which in this setting are almost universally evil because they worship Lolth the spider queen. Is this Not Great? Yes. I also am reading The Wheel of Time, which is Even Worse About Biology As Destiny. The main purpose of this book is to cover Drizzt's childhood from when he leaves the underground drow city of Menzoberranzan.

Drizzt's mother is called Malice, unironically. The naming of drow makes no fucking sense, while we're at it; Malice, Zaknafein, SiNaFay, and Alton DeVir are all supposed to be from the same language? I'm not buying it. ANYWAY. Drow society is matriarchal bc spiders and because, as this post says, Salvatore REALLY wanted to be stepped on. Drizzt was born the third son, and was going to be sacrificed to Lolth because third sons are useless. His birth was ALSO being used by Malice to fuel an attack on House DeVir, because if you slaughter a whole-ass house in Menzoberranzan it's admirable of you, bc ontologically evil; and Lolth powers are increased by childbirth or some jazz.

Several important things happen here, pretty much all simultaneously, heralding Our Chosen One (Drizzt):

The attack on House DeVir goes super well for House Do'Urden

The second oldest brother, Dinin, kills his wizard elder brother (known as the elderboy by the creative geniuses of Menzoberranzan) which means Drizzt can survive because they need a replacement wizard boy.

We learn that Drizzt's father (one of Malice's several consorts) is Zaknafein, who fucking hates his life and how shitty drow society is but also is really good at murder and so he kind of hangs out doing that for House Do'Urden

A wizard who melted his face off fails to kill Alton DeVir, the last of the house of DeVir, which means technically House Do'Urden's attack was illegitimate. However, Masoj Hun'ett, of another powerful house, kills the faceless wizard and Alton takes the wizard's place, but desires VENGEANCE.

Drizzt has lavender eyes but is not blind. His eye color will come up approximately a zillion times. I considered counting, but trust me it's SO many.

The rest of the book covers the following, roughly in order:

Drizzt is super good at everything from a young age; he is placed in the care of his only full sibling, Vierna. Zak manages to successfully argue that Drizzt's dexterity is SO good that he HAS to be a fighter and not a wizard, which permits him to train Drizzt, who is, as discussed, good at everything. He almost mercy-kills him before school because he'd rather his son die innocent than become a drow, but also he hates the idea of killing a child, and also Drizzt is a really good fighter, and so it doesn't happen. They depart on bad terms though.

Drizzt then goes to fighter school (instead of wizard school) and is an excellent fighter but not naturally deceptive and backstabbing because he is Pure of Heart; he is constantly skirting trouble by asking such questions as "why do we all want to murder each other all the time though" and "why is our graduation ceremony a drug fueled spider goddess orgy"

Masoj and Alton scheme; Alton eventually learns in a hoisted by his own petard way that the faceless wizard was also of house Hun,ett, and that house is willing to help him strike back at house Do'Urden

Masoj has a magic panther named Guenhwyvar who likes Drizzt more than him.

Drizzt goes on a surface raid and fucking loves the surface, and feels bad about murdering the surface elves, so he fakes the brutal slaughter of an elven girl. Lolth sees this and doesn't like it one bit and blames the whole house.

Drizzt proves himself on other patrols, and realizes Masoj Hun'ett keeps trying to fucking kill him, notably on a patrol where they run into deep gnomes (svirfneblin). Drizzt spares one of them as well. Dinin is growing suspicious.

Malice realizes that Lolth is mad and assumes it's Zaknafein, known problem, but Lolth tells her someone already knows

Drizzt tells her about Masoj, under questioning

Drizzt and Zak reunite and realize they are kindred spirits who are like "wait our society is MAD fucked up and miserable" and excitedly decide to run away and stop being miserable, BUT Malice is Scrying on them the whole time.

Drizzt goes out to clear his mind and gets cornered by Masoj and Alton. They try to kill him. Joke's on them! Drizzt kills Masoj, Alton's own wand blows up and kills him, and Drizzt gets the panther.

HOWEVER joke is also on Drizzt because Malice approaches Zak and tells him she's going to murder Drizzt, to which Zak tells her to kill him instead. She does so.

Drizzt learns of this and runs away.

The entire book is threaded through with Drizzt's first person reflections, which are actually quite touching at times but also definitely kind of overwrought so I do keep reading them as if they are Sex and the City/Scrubs/Winona Ryder in the 80s (Beetlejuice, Heathers) diary entries

And so our stage is set. If I recall correctly book two is "you have your father's morals; and his tendency towards clinical depression" so we're going to have a rollicking good time (genuine).

#m reads lod #this time with plot summaries #i'm reading the drizzt novels and you can't stop me

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rosehippiefield · 11 months ago

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There're quite some parallels between dynamics of Sara-Keiji and Kanna-Shin.

With the siblings everything is more or less clear: Shin used Kanna for two chapters, eventually growing attached to her as she reminded him of his old self (Midori called them both kind, weak and cowardly, not that last two words are exactly true). Maybe he cared about her from the beginning, maybe only after first main game. Relationship between them was similar to Shin's relationship with Midori as he tried to immitate him, scaring Kanna with his constant manipulation (the laptop case and so on) but still helping to overcome her guilt to some degree. In the end, Shin was ready to die if it meant Kanna's survival, at first offering to vote for her thinking she must be sacrifice (guessing she wouldn't pick him if she wins), and after Gashu incident. Kanna understood that he lied to her (a lot), but still saw the best and was kind of right.

Meanwhile Keiji, in my opinion, could copy some of Megumi's behavior with him when he was a subordinate. I am sure that Keiji sees himself in Sara, reliable, smart, a bit formal and easy to exploit (in terms of giving tasks and responsibility). And as far as I remember, Megumi was flirty with him (though he doesn't exactly flirt, he evades answering difficult questions). So he replicates same type of relationship with Sara, becoming her mentor and showing some clues but leaving majority of the work for her.

At first, Keiji likely knew something because he began pushing for "leader Sara" as soon as met her. But after Joe died and Sara was suffering he grew more and more attached. It was just like him and Mr. Policeman! (plus, Joe could be kid of aforementioned policeman). So he makes attempts to help her. Although still not taking spotlight, even suggesting poor girl to litterally decide fate of all of their lifes. Sara didn't fully trust him, she knew how suspicious Keiji was, but his support was vital for her so she also began caring for him (just in case I don't mean it romantically).

What seems the most like manipulation is him getting trust from Sara while not giving information himself. I understand not giving 50 tokens, he knows about his sins. But transfering keymaster to Sara, pretending he sacrificed his own safety while in reality taking it from somebody else is... cold and calculative (who did he take card from? I understand if it's Shin as he was suspicious and dangerous in Keiji's eyes, but it could be Kanna or someone else innocent).

What bugs me the most is that he didn't do anything to help when Sara got sacrifice card. Ex-policeman had tokens to make exchange, and he actually did make aforementioned exchange... with Q-taro. I read somewhere that he planned to get information from Shin, Keiji wanted to deceive him and so definitely couldn't transfer ill-fated card to him (why would Shin tell the truth if he's going to die anyway?). But nevertheless, Sara still was in danger. A girl with burden on her fragile shoulders who tried to help everyone and who was in position of leader partly because of Keiji.

I think that in third chapter he finally realised how wrong he was about everything and hopefully was ready to truly be mentor figure. I don't remember specifics so I may be mistaken, but Keiji did come to the classroom when Ranmaru deal was happening despite risking showing himself. And we all know how strongly Sara wanted to save Keiji, signing consent form. Their bond reached its culmination, both trusting and wanting to protect each other. Of course, maybe it's a bit early to say so as game is unfinished, but this is something I hope for.

All in all, Keiji kind of used Sara a bit similarly to Shin exploiting Kanna, potentially mimicing some traits of once important person, then saw something familiar in traumatised girl, supported her and formed more genuine bond while still using Sara's leadership to have influence or knowledge until that painful moment of trauma coffin

#your turn to die #keiji shinogi #sara chidouin #shin tsukimi #kanna kizuchi #maybe the way Megumi influenced Keiji is just my assumption #maybe I could go in depth about Shin's manipulations but I feel like it was analysed by others #Plus I have rambled too long as it is #I like Keiji I really do but some of his actions cause me to question his thinking process

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flowersandcandy06 · 4 months ago

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Long death from the net is long (at least like 2 months or so. Whoops o_o), so here's a very scuffed (a kind of long-ish) update post about what happened while I died

(...underneath the post cut, that is, because CLUTTER!!!!! yea👍)

Awwwwlriight caaammpers!! here's bulletpoint number one: I made a webcomic back in June- (WHAT!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥EXPLOSION NOISES BABIES CRYING etc etc etc-)

...yeah

Randomness is where I pretty much grow my dumb ideas at the wall (usually oc related stuff) and I do freak-all with the thing? And my friends and other people can join in and make entries too if they want to and I think it's so fun and stuff!!!! I LOVE RANDOMNESS RAHHHHHH-

Here's the concept art I made for it because "art block bad" and I have/had to destroy it,,,

...and here's the icon I made for the webcomic on ComicFury (host site)

Currently there's like 30+ entries that I (and my friends) have already made for it, and if I were to repost those entries each day to my online accounts, I feel that would take like..FOREVER to do. So I'm thinking that I either post all of the entries all at once, OR I post them every 30 minutes or so on my accounts.....ill think about it 👍

(here's the link to it, btw:

also I would like to add that you can comment on the pages with/without a ComicFury account, but if you want to subscribe to it then you gotta have an account. Just wanted to note that here 7_7)

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Alright,, Number 2: I've updated my personal website a TON while I was away (mainly in the "decoration hell" section of it)

I've also made a new guestbook since 123 Guestbook DIED!! (rip) and I'm currently working on an art archive to put on there as well, so I'll let y'all know when that's ready 👍👍👍👍 [Link]

Also regarding "The Hole" project-thingamajig: I have an idea for it kind of like..."rebranding" it almost??? In my head???? But I haven't executed it yet. Somethingsomething rp with OC's with friends in the same vein as that one sonic sjw blog from aeons ago because the izzzyzzz's video is smeared into my brain, but also not so chaotic as that whole mess was, I think. Does this make any sense to you

[...and here's the link to the hole also]

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Uhhh NUMBER 3: I made a LOT(?) of art stuff while I was dead again - mainly Randomness stuff - but also edits as well, surprisingly enough considering how my electronic drives are literally on life support because of me pretty much (joke)

I'll post them after I post the Randomness pages I think....and I'll get back into the swing of things like how I was doing before B,)

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Number 4: While I was dead I've been sleeping in a lot, sweating very badly (I HATE SUMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and oh yea skinning my PC because it's very fun and also I have the valve brainrot still (it never ends) and I gotta express that somehow. I'll post an image of what I've got when I hop on my laptop :0

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Number 5: what else do I add here uhh......oh yea- I've been into visual novels again since I played one recently and plan on playing the totally iconic ATASHINORIRI (banger game 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥) soon. I have so many game ideas in my head still but alas....I am just one girl....with a laptop on life support and whose tablet driver is broken (idk why) so MAYBE ONE DAY!!! but not today.................so sad!!!!

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Ok that's it from me. Um. Have a swag video from YouTube since you read this thing the whole way through and uhhh yea. bye *explodes*

youtube

#flowerposting #actual flower posting #long update post is long. my bad #ok prepare to be randomed on tomorrow.. heheheh >B)))#Youtube

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raspberrysmoon · 7 months ago

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ummm please say more about the wilbur/john/xander fic right now <3 theyre my favourite guys ever and we need so much more content for them (i say as I write yet another fic not about them)

YIPPEEE YEAHHHHH LETS GOO!!!!! ok this got LONG so its all under the cut. uhm. i hope this tickles your fancy :3

i have SOOOO many thoughts abt these three tbh,,,, i had a thought last night of what it would be like if john and wilbur were engaged when wilbur. uhm. "died". but like 20 years later john's found xander and to hell with it if he can love them both. one is dead, itll be fine

except, wilburs not actually dead. he falls out of a portal and hes normal again and holy shit what does john do now. like thats still technically his fiance (and first love but shh) but his husband is Right The Fuck There

but it wnds up pretty okay. john makes sure wilbur really is okay and normal (hes as normal as he can be after being in the black for that long) and introduces them and it goes great

wilbur backs off of his own accord even though it absolutely destroys him to do so and gives both john and xander (mostly john) the shovel talk ("i swear to god- and ive met god- if you hurt him ill be one to get your ass and send it to hell" type shit)

but. where is this legally dead man going to live. aside from john, there arent many people who jnow him still alive (and ghats not to count the amount still working with peip) (there are two still working with peip. john and colonel schaffer)

so wilbur camps out on john and xanders couch until they figure out what to do from there

but wilbur is Old and Weak and hes honestly provably pretty close to (if not) disabled from the sheer amount his body has gone through and the couch is definitely making it worse. and xander being trained in medicine (though not practicing) steps in and is like "ok i know its going to be weird as hell but you have GOT to get in a bed. ours or not i dont give a shit" but they dont haev the space for another bed and honestly wilbur's been struggling to sleep alone anyway

so they end up dragging his ass into their bed and its like. the best sleep of his life. and he wakes up in the fetal position (normal) between john and xander (not where he fell asleep) and theyre both kind of holding onto him (what the fuck ?)

and he freaks a bit. bc thats his ex (?) fiance and his new husband. he cannot get between them like this are you kidding??

so he goes and sits on the couch but its really cold and he hates it (flashback sequence??) but he forces himself to not care and like. puts a show on or smth until xander wakes up and comes out like "why did you leave i was comfortable" and hes like "im already intruding a lot i felt bed" and xanders like "youre literally not but ok. do you like pancakes" and thats that (the answer is yes, blueberry ones)

and like a month later finally wilbur is cleared to get to work on mapping and explaining the black and white, and the lords in black, so he throws himself into that. 9/10 times he falls asleep at his desk or on the couch again and john and xander are both a little sad but theyte quiet abt theyre big boys theyre handling this great (<- lying)

and xander snaps after like. three weeks of wilbur destroying himself for the sake of explaining the shit he'd seen and he goes and demands that wilbur comes to bed one night and it goes a little something like this

"wil, come to bed"

"i have work to do"

"i dont give a shit, im shutting your laptop in ten seconds"

"no, i have shit to do. go cuddle with your husband" (< said bitterly)

"why are you being a bitch about this. we miss you" (< terrified this is wilbur shutting him down rn, but totally genuine)

"wtfdym you miss me. your husband is in there. you realize im your husbands ex right." (< getting increasingly upset)

"yeah. i mean. it doesnt really feel like you are ahymore, but if you want to call it that sure. but we miss you." (< catching on slowly. not fast enough)

"what" (< officially confused)

"have you not. noticed how much we're both kind of totally in love with you. really" (< losing his fuckingn mind)

"xander what the fuck are you talking about. what" (< also losing his fucking mind)

and then its a monologue about how john never stopped loving him and xander knew that if wilbur ever came back john would probably (definitely) go back to him in SOME capacity and he never minded. and then that happened and xander found himself doting on both of them and kind of maybe definitely falling really in love with wilbur and he can say not but. you get the point

by this point john is also here standing in the doorway (exhausted) (his fingers are crossed) and wilburs just stunned into silence for a while

and then he shuts his laptop and stands up and takes xanders (outstretched) hand and lets them take him to bed in silence and its. its his way of saying yes okay? its his way of telling them that he gets it, that he's done the same and that he loves them too

and they fall asleep together with wilbur in the middle. and its perfect

#this got so out of hand #whoops #wilbur/john/xander #raspberry writes #hatchetfield #alice answers asks !!#not even sure when i fleshed it out this much #last noght it was. 'lol what if they fell in love post b&w'

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romanticfistfightz · 8 months ago

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a list of everything that went wrong today bc if i dont complain and joke about it ill think too much . under read more cuz its 20 points.

my mother got a speeding ticket bc she was 10km/h over . on an empty road at 5am but it wasnt cops ther ebut the one that flashes its not happened to me exactly but it went wrong

had to pay 260pln at the airport cuz the fucking ryanair app didnt work properly and didnt give me my boarding pass when i definitely clicked download and then gave me an "unknown error"

already stressed went to the gate . looked at my boarding pass . only one bag. fuck

paid anothe 200 to be able to take my luggage with me already sweating and shaking (at least the vodka in dutyfree was on sale)

the dude taking my payment told me to take out electronics and meds cuz "these bags get lost sometimes" causing me to die instantly

i gave my bag to a dude next to my plane so he can put it inside the plane with other checked in bags . which should make me more normal cuz like i gave it to him and saw him walk to put it in

didnt help. i was already panicking. what if he took it to a different plane (there were no other planes) . what if he took it for himself and hid it (its bright fucking yellow someone would see it) . what if the plane runs it over (????)

had my adhd toy and was very nervously playing with it and sweating and the lady sitting next to me asked if everythings okay (probably assuming im scared of flying/planes/heights) . so that was nice of her i told her im having an awful day but thanks for asking

the emergency instructions that they give every time made me worse. the plane shook when flying up (normal) and i was sure its crashing . the force of flying up felt different i was sure the engines stopped and died

realized i need to throw up NOW so i went to the bathroom and threw up a bit. never threw up thousands of meters into the air

didnt wanna flush it cuz what if it sucks out too much and sucks out my bag and it falls out

the rest of the flight was fine i chilled out n saw mt etna which is fun i always wanted to see a volcano

landed. started freaking out a bit cuz my bag wasnt coming out for a long time (normal time) and what if they lost it the numbes were slightly different what if somone already took it- oh nvm here it is

cool going for the bus oh wait i need to have coins to pay for the ticket i just bought a carbs free(?) beer for 1.90eur at the airport

wanted to smoke so i wanted to grab my cigarettes from my backpack and realized half of my shampoo spilled out for some fucking reason and the ziplock wasnt closed fully so my backpack (with my laptop charger cables and most important handbound physical copy of unholyverse which was a gift from my bf) was in shampoo and i had no tissues

okay crisis averted it wasnt as bad as i thought. oh shit im almost late for my bus the next ones in 1.5h

managed to get in . and it even had ac. doesnt matter the zip on my backpack broke but after a 10min fight i fixed it

my phones at 7% i need to climb uphill to get to my hotel . the checkins not until 3pm (it was 11.30 at the time its 12.30 now)

okay fine i have an adapter ill charge my phone a bit and go for a walk . yeah sure lmao the adapter doesnt work apparently so im charging my phone from my laptop

well at least theres two swimming pools so ill go swim for the first time in 8yrs.

#anyway i really hope this is all the bad luck i had for this trip #other than crabs being at the aquarium . but that happens #at this point (not actielly having a problem to deal with) its quite funny . how does this always happen to me

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ameliaashdale · 10 months ago

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TW: Mentions of Homelessness, death, abuse and trauma

I have been absent for FAR too long from this site.

Forgive me, for I am currently homeless.

It has been a long nine months. May of 2023 saw the decimation of my hopes. Our deranged, feral cat of a landlord got us thrown out into the street. We bounced around from hotel to hotel, with what little we could fit into our car: including our beloved dog, who became ill and was placed in foster care as a result of heat exhaustion.

Living in the car during May and June means heat. Lots of heat.

I was forced to sell my Nintendo Switch, my 3DS, my writing laptop...

I've lost months' worth of plotting and ideas. I also have nothing left to cope with. Video games kept me calm and helped me release anger when I was overwhelmed.

I sold my things for hotel money.

And we still wound up sleeping outside.

My family abandoned us in our time of need. This wouldn't have happened had they not sold our original home in the first place, 10 year prior. They took our home after my grandmother died and used to money to live it up in Europe. My mother and I were barely living, meanwhile.

I need stability because of my Autism. I need safety because I am wracked with severe OCD. I have neither of those things.

We spent Christmas outside on the cold streets. We nearly died from hypothermia. My lips were purple, and my toes were frozen stiff. No one would help us. They left us there to die.

My mother had a horrendous, abusive upbringing. My grandmother was a gambling, hoarding klepto who never loved my mom and neglected me even more.

My mom had to work constantly when I was a child. Grandma never interacted with me as a toddler. I grew up in la la land. TV was my only view of the outside world. I quoted it verbatim. My toys and dolls were my family. As a result, I was an embarrassment that everyone hated. Even my kindergarten teacher called me the devil's spawn.

No one ever sat down to talk to my mom when she was a child. She never got to help me either.

My mom's life is shit. But she shouldn't have to die a miserable 63 year old. I'm twenty-five. My birthday is in a month. I should not die in the snow and ice, frozen to death in the woods or on the streets. They will probably not even throw us a funeral. They will pray for us in passing and leave it at that. We are the black sheep of the family, a taint on their good name.

But who cares if I had ambitions to become a writer? To work at lucasfilm? To actually prove that people like me--women, girls, people with autism, and people living with constant fear on their minds-- are more than capable of being successful?

Why should I freeze to death, unmourned and forgotten?

Why should I give my life so these people could live in luxury?!

#autism #anxiety #ocd #homeless #suffering #apology

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localgardenweed · 1 year ago

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Just as I sat down to continue working on the ask blog lore I get a little visit from the ao3 author luck fairies and my laptop refuses to turn on

It turned on earlier after a bit of button pressing but i sat there for 15 minutes pushing the on button for long times short times rapid times put the charger in put it out disconnected everything connected everything gave it a pep talk stared at it for a good 30 seconds and NOTHING

I can’t let this happen NOW OF ALL TIMES NOT ONLY DO I HAVE ASK BLOG SHIT I HAVE AP ART SHIT TO DO TOO HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IT NOW my school laptop is even shitter it can’t handle photoshop and crashes and lags if i even dare go beyond 300 pixels x 300 pixels and i cant download medibang cause i need the administrator code so im screwed there

I dont even think we have the budget to go and buy a new laptop rn and my aunt isn’t around to give me hers as a hand me down like my current one and buy herself a new one with her big girl money so we’re triple screwed

So many medibang files lost if this things dies rn. And also imma have to buy minecraft AGAIN so this is just perfect. Luckily thats the only blow major blow the rest are fine ill live without my 5 krita files and hopefully roblox will save my studio files and if not well there is already a better hetalia roblox game anyway, and like sure my hetalia x danganronpa rpgmaker game will be lost to time but i never finished it and it was shit so it doesn’t matter anyway. Everything else i either sent to friends or is for the best it dies and fades away with the sands of time

TLDR; We’re royally fucked laptop wont turn on and it has everything i need for the ask blog and also school shit and dont have the time/money to get a new one right now

#localgardenweed #the weed is rambling #guys if i sold feet pics do you think i can buy a new laptop /j #i have my head in my handa sobbing and wailing rn #JUST KILL ME NOW GOD WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

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belethlegwen · 2 years ago

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The Faerie Spell - Chp 7

Chapter One: Click Here

Previous Chapter: Click Here

Story Directory: Click Here

Words: 6061

Summary: Daphne decides to take back some of her own agency after the awkward-as-hell movie night, learning that she can get away with keeping her curse-bullshit bouts a secret under certain conditions. It makes her feel good enough that she starts to finally start breaking away from her friends a bit, making more decisions for herself and even deciding to treat herself a little!

But...

Content Warning: Violence, bodily harm, fear

Since the movie-night, like I mentioned, there had been three episodes. The first one didn’t even last until morning, which made things a bit awkward. Waking up to cold chills and wondering how long it had been, scrambling with whatever I could remember to grab out to the top of the desk. I made it, but it did make me move the bed from the second floor/loft of the ‘beach bungalow’ to the ground floor.

I fell into my real bed, barely blinked my damn eyes and the sun was up before I could fully form the question of what that stupid winged bastard was getting up to at my height in the middle of the night on a Friday. Sheri had helpfully informed me at the kitchen table that I looked like shit, but it being Saturday, I just took a morning shower and went right back to nap until lunch. It, admittedly, wasn’t a huge help to my energy or my mood.

The second one had happened on Tuesday, around 10:30 or so in the morning. I was mid-zoom call with my team lead and some of my other coworkers when the feeling came over me and I managed to zonk the laptop down with me in what I personally believe was my smoothest move yet. Only one of them had even noticed something happened, and that was more because the warm waves make me sweaty-- whether from anxiety or because they’re actually that warm, I haven’t actually bothered to check-- and a little nauseous. I had almost passed it off completely, but because I hadn’t been charging the laptop all morning the battery died just a bit past lunch and I had to take a sick day for the latter half.

I had been getting warned about taking those, but I had looked at the health coverage and poured over some of the language with a personal caseworker after my accident, and ‘illnesses and afflictions’ such as mine were covered.

…Well, supposed to be, but it was still a weekly game of email-tag with HR and management to get the sick days applied properly and compensated for according to the contract, etcetera etcetera, blahblahblah.

I had forgotten that day who was free and who wasn’t, and I didn’t want to give Sheridan an excuse to dodge out of work early or something, so I just… wandered. I got into the cupboard I had been testing, I checked my new elastic-ladder situation, and realized what was so good about sunbeams. As a heads up: Giant cheetos are more trouble than they’re worth, but there’s something about giant breakfast cereal if you can get to it that really really hits.

I was honestly about to start heading back to where my phone was sitting on the desk in my room, ready to alert them that it had happened before Sheridan may have shown up and found me, when the cold chills hit and I was standing normal-sized in the hall again. Being self-sufficient felt good. Really good, honestly, and being able to just spend time by myself and do things on my own helped me plan out some things I could do to make everything easier to just… stay self-sufficient.

Mostly it involved getting a lot of things for my room. I started taking little notes in a diary, started bringing a bag full of some essentials with me from room to room so that if it hit again I’d be able to-- hopefully-- grab it before I zonked. ALWAYS making sure my phone was going in a pocket of some kind instead of being laid somewhere was a tricky one, but I had been getting better at it! By the time the next bout hit, I had improved a bunch of little, like… quality of life things for myself in terms of mobility, keeping things kind of concentrated to certain areas, that sort of deal.

I got a little bit sour that nobody noticed them before I zonked or whatever. No one seemed to care about my stupid curse or how I was actually dealing with it outside of making dumb jokes, so nobody noticed that the bookshelf dollhouse set up had gotten a little pimped out, that I had made some extra additions for like, comfort. Closest we came was when Gem popped in for dinner with us one night and she noted that I had some scraps of fabric and stuff around, things like hacky sacks or a scrap of old memory-foam from a pillow I was replacing that I had wrapped some cloth around, wondering why I wasn’t ordering more doll furniture.

I told her this was just basic stuff to ‘tide me over’ until an order came in. She had been excited about that, even though I didn’t honestly believe it was that convincing of a lie. It still wasn’t probably going to be comfortable but it was better than a lot of the doll-intended trash I had already wound up with.

I had… almost forgotten about the Gem shit entirely by this point. There were moments when it would hit again, but honestly? In my newfound independence, it didn’t bother me nearly as much and I had no interest in wanting to talk to anyone about it. Why bring it up? I was actively making it not-a-problem and that felt so good, oh my god.

The latest bout, the one that ended this morning, happened at 10:30-ish again on Tuesday, and I was sincerely hoping that whatever this bastard was up to would last the same length of time as it did the last time, but by 4:30 I was left with no real choice but to warn everybody before Sheri came home and just found me. I had gotten through the entire workday with no one noticing that my background was uh… well, bigger, but I tended to keep to a pretty vague section of my desk while on the zoom calls and such anyway, so I suppose it wouldn’t have been extremely noticeable.

Once Sheridan made it back and settled in for the night, I messaged Cal and had them come over to hang out with me in my room and even convinced them to sleep over just to get Gem off my back. We didn’t talk about the incident, but Cal and I did have a conversation about how kind of pushy Gem was about babysitting me and taking me for sleepovers when this shit happened, even when it was blatantly impractical like it was that night: she had work the next morning! Was I just going to hang out on a table in her house for 8 hours? Was I supposed to break my way out of there if the curse un-zonked me mid-way through the day? God girl, just let me sleep in my own house.

“Listen,” Cal had said as they spread out on my bed, causing the pillow I was sitting on to almost toss me into the air as their head landed on it with some force next to me. “I can’t blame her too much, you’re pretty cute like this.”

“Ugh,” I had grunted, reaching for the strap of my bag and hauling back up beside me to avoid it getting crushed, sending off my sick-leave request on my phone. “That’s the last thing I wanna hear. I just wish people would give me a fuckin’ break when I’m like this.”

“It takes you like, four years to get to a bathroom at this size, girl,” they had drawled, yawning, their hand almost hitting me as it moved to flop on the other side of me. “Only so much of a break you can get.”

“You know I’ve like, dealt with that at least a little, right?” I had asked pointedly, turning to stare at the side of their face, but it was useless. As they scoffed and made some kind of comment that unless we put litter boxes in every room ‘it wouldn’t matter’, I decided to not let them in on the details of my creative engineering.

I also decided, once again, to not complain about how touchy Gem was when Cal’s finger started to bump into me idly and repeatedly while we talked. What right did I have to complain about Gem’s handsy-ness when I was constantly smacking at Cal’s stupid fingers?

One thing I was grateful to Cal for, though, was that when I told them I could handle myself and would message them if anything went wrong, they believed me enough to head out to work the next morning without trying to call in Mak or Gem. Even agreed to send a dummy-message in the afternoon that they were heading home so it looked like I’d only be home alone for maybe an hour before Sheri got back. Sheri had even made sure Hannibal wasn’t going to do his morning run, though it was pretty unnecessary. One of my quality-of-life upgrades I finally caved to was a couple of sets of earplugs.

I had run clean out of those USB-charger battery packs by the time me and Sheri had finished dinner, so she had suggested we just watch TV together while I gave my phone a break. It was honestly a nice night, like I had said; she was pretty good about listening to me when I said it’s easier for me to watch from the back of the couch, or at least the armrest, and aside from the quick warnings before being grabbed and moved everywhere she was alright to get along with.

The rest of the group chat… not so much. When I mentioned my phone was dying, Gem told me she was absolutely going to take the time off of work tomorrow and come get me so someone was ‘actually taking care of me’ while I was still zonked, Mak asked me why I didn’t just keep all of my old phones charged as back-ups because they don’t need SIM cards to use the WiFi and I was going to be home all the time anyway, Cal saying instead that they’d call in for their shift tomorrow afternoon if I was still zonked and come hang with me at my place, which just started an argument with Gem…

When I was grabbing my bag and everything just a bit before 5am and sleepily dragging my ass out of the bungalow, I can not begin to express how god-damn relieved I was. I plugged my phone in and sent off a message to the chat that I was big again, everything was fine, and then just collapsed for a few more hours of sleep. By 7, everyone had seen and was… well, they all said they were happy to hear, but I was getting more and more suspicious of Gem’s level of honesty.

So, I hope that’s a pretty clear explanation of why I decided, at around 9am, to drive myself into town to run some very minor, personal errands and just enjoy myself without letting anyone know.

Like, the house-keeping was done and getting done! I plugged in all of my chargers at home, phone was back to full charge by the time I was up, set up my laptop to charge… My sick-leave was still in place, though I had told the crew that I was thinking of letting them know that I was good to work again when I first was re-embiggened or whatever before dawn. I decided against it because after Sheridan had left for work it just kind of hit me that… I missed doing shit on my own.

It hit me that I hated the idea of trying to ask if one of them could schedule some time with me to get my haircut, or that the only one who ever really seemed down for a nice coffee-and-chat like I used to have was Gem because everyone else was busy or was worried I’d zonk or something.

I also, also… kind of wanted to try out some of the other magic shops around town. I had been doing research, but every time I brought it up around the gang, they all got really squirrelly about it; even Gem, who was always saying she knew someone or knew someone who knew someone who was in the magic underground scene or what-have-you. Like, we were all super ignorant about magic stuff, me and Cal almost especially because of our, uh…

Well lets just say that our respective upbringings required a lot of very intense unlearning in order for Cal to be able to be themself, and for me to just… get along with other people, especially people like Cal.

We don’t go home to visit family often, is what I’m saying. If my family knew I had been cursed by magic they would probably say it was because I was ‘giving into sinful urges’ or something. Then they’d ask if I had a boyfriend yet. You know how that shit gets.

I won’t lie, I had been putting off showing my face around like… known magic gigs since the Witch had flipped her lid at me, but I figured if I just went in and asked, and just didn’t tell them I was cursed or whatever maybe they wouldn’t like… try to read it or whatever the fuck that sour old bitch did that told her I was somehow in cahoots with a Faerie. My real issue was that no one else was going to do it for me though, so I figured just… nosing around for new charms wouldn’t kill me?

I mean, I was at no risk. I had gotten a minimum of almost four days between bouts at the shortest since this had all started, and it ended this morning. All I wanted was to feel normal, and I had already proven to myself in at least a dozen ways that I can handle myself way better than the others wanted to believe. So… I drove into town, parked the car at my workplace lot because I still had my pass and it was pretty close to everything I wanted to do, and then walked into a salon to get my hair finally dealt with.

I kept it long enough that I could just keep it in a bun, hopefully no one would notice immediately, but I figured, hey! If I can go a few days without anyone figuring it out, I could let Cal in on the secret. They could appreciate a good bit of friendly espionage like that, we always liked doing that kind of thing.

God, it was so nice to just… sit in a chair and chat with a hair stylist again. It was nice to just be out, with people I didn’t know, just acting like a person again! I went window shopping, I stopped into a little cafe I had never been in before and got myself this neat little herb-and-cheese danish thing and a really really fancy coffee from them-- literally just told them what my favourite flavours were, said I wanted something hot and fancy, and the barista looked like they could die they were so happy to build me something custom. They even wrote it down after I tried it and loved it in case I wanted to order it again!

I was just wandering around the downtown area, bopping along to tunes and taking a ton of pictures of things that I never realized I missed so much. I was waving to people, saying hi and smiling…

Did you ever notice that you used to be someone, and that you just… hadn’t been that person in a while? It was weird. It was so weird to become that person again so naturally, so easily, and see how badly I had missed it. Even before the stupid curse I just hadn’t been doing much of any kind of socializing outside of the crew because I was just so busy all the time with work, and I mean, after the bullshit with my ex it wasn’t like I was trying to hit the town and find a new mistake to make, so…

I had been bringing up Google maps so much to find out where anything I might wanna visit might be that my phone was already on half-charge, so it was going to be a pretty short trip out into the real world. I wasn’t too upset, honestly my anxiety was high enough in the car originally that I was thinking I’d just do the haircut and get back home ASAP, but once the sunlight and fresh air hit me… damn I really did love it.

My legs also felt they could walk me clear out of town and back if I wanted, too, which was a fun little benefit. Walking to the nearest charm shop and then back to the car would be easy, and I still had like half of my very-fancy-coffee drink with me to keep me company.

I was already making plans to come back tomorrow, my eyes looking at a gorgeous little outdoor seating area outside a restaurant, a little wrought-iron fence and some bushes, under the sidewalk trees. There were a few couples, some loners, and even a couple of moms with their below-school-aged kids with them enjoying an early lunch, and it just looked so wonderful. I stopped at the little wooden sign with today’s specials on it, trying to glance around the area to see if there was a waiter or someone I could ask about seeing a full menu, when I felt the sun break through the trees.

God, what a beautiful day. Why didn’t I do this more? Why did I just let myself be scared, let my friends try to run my life like I needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap all the time? What was so terrifying about being out here on such a gorgeous day?

The alarm on my phone started to go off, reminding me that if I had been at work, there was a zoom meeting due about one of my team’s projects happening in a half hour. It was loud and obnoxious, and I felt myself flush at the embarrassment of having some random video-game noise from the 90s start blasting out in the middle of such a nice public spot. I heard high-pitched, squealy giggles as I pulled it out of my pocket and hit the shut-off button, sighing.

Then I caught my reflection on the screen as it changed back to black.

I caught the look of myself, sweat beading on my head, and realized that the sun had never broken through the trees around me.

“That fucker--” I managed, somewhere between panic and rage, before the rush of air and massive bout of nausea sent me to my knees instantly on the extremely rough concrete. My coffee spilling on the ground as I slammed the paper cup against it.

I vomited. I couldn’t help it. I vomited and scrambled to my feet as fast as possible, ready to start screaming if anything came near-- the three times this had happened outdoors, the massive feeling of being so exposed so suddenly, with no walls and no ceiling, had hit like a ton of bricks and this was absolutely no different. At least there weren’t any pigeons around this time, I guess.

To my left was the wrought-iron fence and the side of one of the bushes that decorated it. The folding menu-sign with the specials chalked up on it was just slightly further, and was also likely to get too many eyes. I darted, running sloppily toward the fence and the bush instead, my hand diving into the pocket with my stones in it and hauling them out.

I could barely keep myself upright; between the nausea and the panic, I was barely breathing around my heart feeling like it was literally sitting at the back of my god damn tongue. I was swearing, that was the only way I could think to get air out of me between terrified gulps of air. Between my shaking hands, I was able to finally grab the stone that had the minor-invisibility charm and after stammering twice, activated it. That helped, a little. It would at least keep the birds from finding me if there were any bumming around the restaurant tables looking for scraps.

The charm was basically one of those that kept eyes from landing on you if someone wasn’t specifically looking for you, or you weren’t drawing specific attention to yourself. I never had to use it much between never leaving the house and always winding up in a pocket or a purse when I did and zonked, but that just made me happier knowing that it had a lot of charge.

My mind was racing as I slipped it back into my pocket and moved to the next stone. I had nothing with me, nothing but the stones which were always in my pockets out of habit, my phone, and my wallet which was useless at this size. My bag was at home, but even if I had it all of the chargers were out and plugged in, the only thing in it now was a chocolate bar, spare pajamas and earplugs. I was going to need to tell someone that I had left the house, that I was basically somewhere downtown, try and send the geolocation and just… hunker down and hope nothing ate me until they got here. It was going to have to be Cal. Their shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, they might not have left yet… they might not be awake but they’d be my safest bet with the least amount of yelling, at least immediately.

Next charm I wanted to use was the protection stone, it helped with bumps and falls, and even helped-- at least a little-- with the crew grabbing me if they were a little more rough about swinging me around. It was like magic padding. I was going to need it if I was going to be trying to climb things out in the wild and hiding under stuff, waiting for Cal to come get me. Massive feet were stomping past on the sidewalk between the little fenced-off garden eating area and the actual wall of businesses that seemed like they were towering skyscrapers blocks away from this height, and I wanted to puke all over again at how heavy they felt even on the concrete. My stomach churned and I couldn’t bring myself to get the spell-word out while I was gagging over the thought that maybe I’d need to find someone, a stranger, to try and talk to to keep me safe until I could get rescued by one of the gang.

I had just gotten the shield spell activated, shoving it back into my pocket with the unactivated speaking-stone as I was determined to not talk to anyone, to not draw any attention to myself whatsoever while I was like this, waiting for my blood to heat up and un-curdle again, when suddenly everything around my chest went tight.

Bone-crushingly tight.

My eyes dropped down from the roofs of the buildings instantly to see fingers across my front as my feet were yanked into the air, kicking and flailing as my lower half was completely free-- dangling with a thumb pressing painfully into my back.

I screamed.

I screamed, and whatever was behind me let out a squealing screech of delight so loud I went temporarily deaf in both ears.

I was being flung around, up and down in wide arcs as the squealing noise continued, barely fading back in as my hearing came back and was blasted away again by another insane bout of noise. The grip tightened again and the fingers shifted up against my neck as I almost slipped in another wild shake. My vision was nothing but colors and stars, the stone keeping my bones from breaking but everything still hurt.

My only reaction was to throw my face forward and bite, and bite hard.

The reaction was instant. The fucker screamed so loud every bone in my body vibrated to the point I was worried my joints would just fall apart, and my eyes shook-- not that they were any good to me in the moment before that-- but my body hit the ground from what felt like falling off the roof of a house, and I had no time to actually care about how badly I might be hurt. Feet and hands pushed me off of the ground and I scrambled as fast I could manage, practically on all fours for the first half of it, running toward the safety of the bush.

My eyes glanced behind as my hearing started to come back through the most intense ringing I’d ever had, my whole head throbbing-- my whole body throbbing-- and saw the frankly massive child clutching it’s finger while it wailed, tears streaking down it’s face as its mother swept in like a moving building to see what had happened. I turned back to the bush and dove into the leaves and branches, the bluntly-cut ends of wood jabbing into my body as I tried desperately to scratch my way inside to almost no effect.

I tasted blood. I had no idea if it was mine, or if I had managed to actually hurt the kid.

How the fuck could this happen?! I had the stone activated, the kid shouldn’t have fucking seen me, shouldn’t have even noticed me after it was on. God, unless the kid had heard my phone going off and was already watching when it all happened… fuck.

There was a searing pain against my leg that I finally clued into as air was finally going back in and out of my lungs, my stupid battered body trying to wriggle around this bush to get completely out of the child’s view, but from the stupid babbling it was making I was terrified-- I knew it was going to try and come back and look for me. The searing pain was literally that-- searing. The protection stone was so hot I almost thought it might be burning me, it must not be meant to work that hard, that fast.

It was cooling, at least, but still-- now I was terrified of how much of it’s charge that stupid kid had used trying to fling me around like garbage. My chest was heaving, and all my brain kept telling me to do was run, and run as far as I could. A gap finally opened in the overly-manicured branches, a tight tunnel of sharp and poking twigs twisted around that looked like they came out the other side near the bottom of one of the street-side trash cans. I might be able to fit under that, if I could get there fast enough.

The thumping and rumbling of footsteps all around me-- someone was dragging their steel chair across the bricks just alongside the stupid topiary-divider I was trying to scramble my way through like a rat and it cut through the other ringing in my ears like something was jamming dentistry tools inside my skull-- was enough to make me want to vomit again. I was doing a good job at holding that back until I finally broke free of the bush and moved to make a dart for the cover of the trashcan, my sleeve snagged on one of the jagged-cut branches I had pushed past.

“Come on just let me go!” I screamed, turning to yank at it before a rush of air caused me to yell again, ducking and pressing myself back into the greenery while another insane amount of noise rocked my world so hard it knocked the wind out of me.

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t aim for shit,” a booming voice laughed mockingly as another voice so deep I felt my ribcage vibrate swore back at him. I had almost been crushed by an empty glass bottle, and my thoughts that I was ‘soooooo lucky’ it hadn’t shattered evaporated into my panicked grunting and yelling as I tried to claw my way back into the bush, legs and feet suddenly stepping around the corner and a colossal hand practically slammed down on top of the bottle to grab it.

The leaves and whole bush shifted as the towering body crashed into it sideways, and I shut my eyes, forcing my body as much as I physically could back against the blunt and jabbing ends of the branches that were refusing me entry back into the cover and safety of the stupid plant. The two gigantic idiots were getting into a shoving-match and I was maybe seconds away from getting stepped on, my teeth gritting through the ringing, the pounding, the throbbing of every single part of my head and a significant amount of my body.

“Fuck off ya moron,” one of them shouted and as quickly as they had been there they were gone, their footsteps thudding further and further away as they kept bantering in their rumbling voices. My eyes opened again and I gasped for air.

I hate this. Why did I fucking do this? It wasn’t worth it.

The thought of that massive, unknown hand grabbing me instead of that bottle pushed me over the edge, and I hurled up what little was left in my guts into the bushes again. That fancy coffee probably wasn’t a huge help to my nerves right now, but I was still sad to feel like it had all gone to waste, especially with the thought that I was never going to be able to get one again.

Someone was getting up from a seat in the restaurant area-- god how huge was this place?! It felt like I had been running for miles, for fuck’s sake! As their chair scraped across the ground again I saw them gathering up their trash and turning in my direction, my body scrambling on some primal urge to get out of any potential line of sight. I had no trust now that the stupid invisibility stone was working, or had ever worked. My eyes closed again out of some childish fucking instinct to believe that if I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me, and I just had to tremble and try not pathetically cry as their steps got closer and closer and I heard the ridiculous amount of noise of them tossing their garbage away.

Their movements had stopped. Nothing was happening. I had to have been spotted, I must’ve been-- I could hardly hear anything over the sounds of my own breathing now turning into panicked whimpers as I could practically feel them crouching low, staring at me, reaching a hand toward my body to grab me and haul me into the air. I bit my lip so hard I was sure I was bleeding as I imagined that child again, thrashing me around and throwing me through the air.

Then, with a massive wave of relief, they were thumping and stomping away, their voice rumbling into me as they spoke something into their phone, a buzzing conversation coming through the earpiece somewhere high, high above me.

I untangled myself from the bush and lined up alongside it, crouching low. I was so dizzy… would the stone protect me from a concussion? I really should’ve gotten more details about the charms, but I was so nervous about being in there and-- fuck, there’s no time to think about this.

The store directly across from me-- was it the restaurant? Was it another store entirely? How far had I been thrown or flung or whatever had happened? How far had I run? It didn’t matter-- it had a slight outcropping of its brick face, where the main window was, and it left a little protected overhang above the street at least twice my height by the looks of it. There was some garbage that had been blown underneath and seemed pretty well protected from sight and everything else. I get there, I duck and cover and hide.

I was finally hauling my phone out of my pocket to send a geo-lock to Cal, when the massive bush behind me started to shake, the voice of the child and its mom having gotten closer. Was the kid still looking for me? Was the mom looking for whatever rat or bug just bit their kid? I bolted, it was the only move I could really make. They wouldn’t see me over there, they wouldn’t be able to catch me.

I was so preoccupied with them, that I was blasting my way across the gargantuanly-wide sidewalk before I realized that I didn’t account for traffic. A foot slammed down to my left about 20 feet away--to me--, not close enough to worry about but heavy enough to shake me and cause me to yell as I kept running, weaving uselessly… No one lifts their feet enough to miss me, everybody is always nearly scuffing their shoes. I’m constantly at risk of getting bodied by hovering cars and I never noticed before now.

I couldn’t bring my eyes to move anywhere but my goal, even though I knew I was basically running across a 12-lane highway or something stupid. They were all moving so fast, all I had to do was get across this stupid sidewalk, under that ledge, and I’d be fine. Nothing would be able to hit me there, nothing could fall on me… that was it, that’s where I had to go.

I felt a foot land so close behind me I almost stumbled, my hands falling forward to push myself off the pavement and try to fling me forwards, my phone bonking off of the pavement in its case and I didn’t even care as I just held it tighter and kept running. I was so fucking close.

There was a rush of air and, on its own, my head turned to see a foot slam down with such force I felt almost like I was sent hovering from the shock it sent through the pavement. The motion of what it was attached to was so much faster, the shape so different-- I never thought of what someone would even look like while they were running from down here, when they were damn-near 60 feet tall or something.

There was nothing I could do.

My own stride had me lined up directly in the path.

The top of their shoe, the rubber-cased toe, the laces… it smashed into me and knocked every ounce of breath I may have ever taken out of my lungs, and I was pressed into it so hard I thought I’d become a part of it.

Until, suddenly…

…I wasn’t.

My arms uselessly tried to grip it, beyond the last second, noticing too late what was happening as the shoe started to lower out from under me but I was still going, arcing through the air. The stone in my pocket really, honestly felt like it was burning this time, and as I sailed through some kind of railing, the ground dropped out from under me. Now, instead of being maybe 10-15 feet in the air, I was probably 40 or more over the concrete stairwell I had flown into, rapidly descending.

I’m sure I was screaming. I must’ve been, because some kind of noise in me stopped as my back slammed into stone and I felt the hot rock in my pocket shatter against me like it had exploded, the only thing keeping it from flying out like shrapnel being the lining and my jeans.

It was like a stupid movie, everything in slow motion as I was plastered against that wall, gravity slowly pulling my limp body forward. As my eyes landed hazily on the ground below, bare concrete surrounded by trash bags and garbage, my phone fell out of my hand.

The last thing I thought before everything went black was:

Will my body stay this small once I’m dead? Will they ever find it?

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Next Chapter: Click Here

#Daphne's Curse #The Faerie Spell #whump #Listen #LISTEN #I do legitimately feel terrible for what this poor girl is going through #It's been rough time after rough time and every time she thinks things are looking up... well #Worried I should be tagging this story as whump but hhhhhhh #Not sure how I feel on that but I'll do it anyway so:#Things are going to get better for her in the future #I know it to be true #But we're going about that a little differently than we have been so there'll maybe be a bit of a hiatus #It's also the Christmas rush and my job is insane (as many are this time of year)#g/t #giant/tiny #gt #giant tiny #g/t writing #g/t story #giant/tiny writing #giant/tiny story #g/t author #gtauthor #God if Daphne ever gets her hands on that faerie it's gonna be a bad time for the bastard #I promise you all that Daphne will be getting the comfort she deserves and has deserved and needed this entire time #It is coming #Love you all #thank you so much for reading #Sorry about the 100000 tags I don't even know if folks read these if they ain't on reblogs but #here we are

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