#traumatic flashback

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

Come to Me

My Masterlist

This ask combined with the addition both from the lovely @chrisevansdaughter

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x ADHD!Reader, Platonic!Clint Barton x Reader (sibling like relationship)

Warnings: Traumatic mission, reader has a hard time communicating, mentions of a panic attack, this is probably terribly self-indulgent bc i’m terrible with my feelings and probably have undiagnosed adhd, reader is terrified of heights, reader probably has PTSD (or maybe PTS?? idk what they’re really calling it)

Word Count: 2091

Summary: 3 months after the mission that changed your life again, you finally let Steve in to help.

**

It had been 3 months. 3 months since the mission that had seemingly changed your life. You couldn’t get the images of what happened out of your head. You hadn’t told anyone about how much it was affecting you, and honestly you weren’t even quite sure of how to word what you were feeling. You weren’t diagnosed with ADHD as a kid like many people you knew, you weren’t diagnosed until about 5 years ago, but now as an adult, you understand that it can be the reason you have issues voicing your feelings. The words just don’t come out of your head the way that you want them to, and it’s hard to get your point across without rambling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the mission, you, Steve, and Clint were walking through a jungle towards a HYDRA base, when all of a sudden you guys came across a gigantic ravine. “Oh fuck no.” You said, looking at the rickety bridge 20 feet away from the three of you and instantly seeing flashbacks. 

You had met Clint years ago in the circus and he had practically adopted you as his younger sister instantly. You were a tightrope walker, and as the years passed, you didn’t want to do more daring stunts, but your ringmaster pushed you to. 

One day, you went to perform your act live, only to find that a thinner rope was placed 10 feet higher than your usual act was done at and there was no safety net below you. You had never practiced more than 3 feet higher than your usual act, and never without a safety net, so you were very scared climbing the ladder. But it wasn’t until halfway through your act that it happened, you slipped. If it weren’t for Clint sprinting out to catch you, you most likely would’ve died from the fall. 

Clint had given your ringmaster hell later for doing that to you, and swore to never move you higher or give you a different rope again without you practicing first. But you were so scared to even climb the ladder that you never went back to tightrope walking, and the two of you went to work for SHIELD not long after, so you for the remaining time in the circus, you did harder tricks on a balance beam, something you’d be less likely to fall off of and you almost definitely wouldn’t get hurt doing so.

But either way, this mission had a very rickety old bridge that the three of you were going to have to cross to get to the HYDRA base. And then you were going to have to cross it again to get back to the jet.

“How about I stay here and take out just about anyone that comes by and you guys go into the base?” You asked as they walked towards the bridge.

Clint turned and softened his gaze when he saw how scared you were. “N/N, I know. I know what’s going on right now, but we need you in there with us. We will keep you safe, I promise.” Based on the very confused look that your boyfriend was giving your brother, Clint was able to figure out that you hadn’t told Steve about your crippling fear of heights due to what happened.

“Fine, Clint. But you go first. I’ll be in the middle so either of you can catch me when something bad inevitably happens.”

“And after this, you tell Steve.” He said, glaring at you disapprovingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Sure, sure, Clint.”

After the three of you had crossed the bridge, the rest of the mission went really smoothly. You had gotten the files on a USB, wiped the computer, and did some property damage to both the computer and the building. But unfortunately, the three of you had to cross that bridge again.

“Aw, Clint, do I have to?” You asked, whining slightly

“If you want to sleep in your own bed ever again, yes. And think, nothing happened the first time.” You shook your head at this, but gestured again for him to go first and you would follow. Clint started slowly making his way across the bridge, while Steve listened for creaks telling that one of the boards was going to snap. But it didn’t happen while Clint was standing on the board, it happened with you on it. You screamed as you fell, flailing your arms to grab on to anything you possibly could. You hadn’t fallen far when you grabbed something though, the bottom of the board you were standing on was dangling from the rope holding the bridge up, but it was quickly unraveling itself from this end too.

“Sweetheart, grab my hand.” Steve called, reaching down to you.

You reached up for him, but felt the board slip more. “I can’t, the board will break! You guys have to get out of here before the whole bridge breaks!”

“Are you serious, Y/N? Leave you here to die?” Clint asked. “Never. I’m holding the knot in place. Reach up to Steve, he has you, okay?” 

And it was when you nodded up at Clint that you made your fatal mistake. You looked down. “I can’t do this. I’m gonna die.”

“Hey, hey, look at me, N/N. Look at me. You’re not gonna die. We’re right here and we will never let that happen. Just reach for Steve, okay?” He asked.

“Okay,” You said, panicking. “I dunno if I can.”

“You can do it, sweetheart, I’m right here, just give me your hand.” You reached up to Steve, feeling the board creak under you as you shifted your weight, but you knew Clint was holding the knot in place so the board wouldn’t fall until after Steve had pulled you back to safety.

Steve grabbed onto your hand and pulled, bringing you back up to level with the boys, and back to safety as you practically ran across the bridge to solid ground, and then to the jet so you could go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could barely sleep, everytime you laid down and closed your eyes you felt like you were falling again. It wasn’t unless you were sleeping practically underneath Steve that you actually felt safe. You tried your best to not let Steve know what a hard time you’d been having since that mission, but you were sure he knew. He could always read you like a book.

Sliding down the inside of your bedroom door, you knew you were having a panic attack, but there was no way that you were going to let Steve find out. You’d already burdened him with so much that you didn’t want this dumb mission from 3 months ago to add on to that.

“Honey?” Steve called, “Where are you?” You tried to hide your heavy breathing, you could get through this panic attack by yourself, you didn’t need to rely on Steve. “I can hear you breathing in the bedroom, are you okay?” Damn his super-soldier hearing.

“I- I’m fine, Stevie. It’s okay.” You said shakily.

You could practically hear Steve rolling his eyes. “No you aren’t, open the door, doll.” You moved away from the door and Steve walked in, noticing your panicked state. “Hey, woah, sweetheart, you’re not okay. Why would you try to hide this?” He shook his head softly. “Never mind, let’s get you calmed down before we have a serious conversation.”

You nodded slowly, knowing you were going to have to figure out a way to word your feelings, but that thought only made you panic more.

“Okay, doll, can I touch you?” You nodded. Steve wrapped you in a hug, pulling you into his chest so you could rest your head on his shoulder and nuzzle into his neck like you liked to do. “Can you tell me 5 things you can see?”

“You, the bed, dresser, stuffies, water bottle.” You said as your breathing started to show.

“4 things you can hear.”

“Your voice, your heart, the fridge, and the fan.”

“3 things you can smell.”

“Mm, you. The fabric softener and my shampoo.”

Steve took a slow breath, happy you were calming down. “Good job, honey. Now 2 things you can feel.”

“You and the floor.”

“Great job honey. 1 thing you can taste?”

“You.” You told him, taking another deep breath.

Steve rubbed your back slowly, helping to ground you even more. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You did fantastic.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You mumbled, hiding your face in his neck.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about, doll?” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his torso. “You’re gonna have to tell me eventually. We both know that you’ll feel so guilty for not telling me that you’ll have another panic attack later. Can we just skip that this time, honey?”

You thought about it for a minute before nodding slowly, not really wanting to have to deal with another panic attack today because Steve was right. You really would feel so guilty about not telling him that you would just have another panic attack. “I don’t know how to say it,” You whispered, knowing his super soldier hearing would pick it up.

“That’s okay, darling. Can you try? It’s okay if you ramble, I’ll always understand you.”

You nodded again, starting to tell him the story of when you met Clint and how you would’ve died that night in the circus if it weren’t for him. You told Steve everything in words you hadn’t been able to before, including how you couldn’t sleep unless he was practically on top of you, saving your anxiety from itself in the middle of the night.

And Steve listened. He rubbed your back, never saying whether or not he was uncomfortable after sitting on the floor for all this time. He listened attentively and gave you reassuring words when you couldn’t figure out the word you wanted. You really were starting to think that he should’ve been a therapist in another life.

“Thank you for telling me, sweetheart.” Steve said, at least an hour later. “I’m really proud of you for being able to voice your feelings for me. Why don’t we get changed and watch some TV before we go to bed. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep now, but we’ll definitely talk to Dr. Raynor in the morning, okay?”

Your shoulders slumped, you really didn’t want to have to go to a therapist about this, now that it was off your chest, you were fine. Steve gave you a look. “No, you’re not fine, don’t try to pull this on me. Yes, it may be off your chest now, but that doesn’t make you all better. Look at all she’s done for Bucky.”

You nodded, “Yeah, she’s helped him a lot. But this isn’t the same, Bucky was brainwashed. I just had an accident before joining the Avengers.”

“Sweetheart, you had a near-death experience. Twice, and the second one was in the same fashion as the first. It’s not that you’re just scared like you were before the first fall, you’re carrying something up here-” he tapped your temple gently, “-that you need to deal with. It’s not a bad thing, but you’ve now suffered two near-death experiences from the same issue. You’re bound to have a little bit of PTSD from that. You can just have a little chat with Dr. Raynor, I don’t have to be there if you don’t want me to be, and she’s gonna help you work through this.”

“Okay.” You said softly. “But I’d really like to sleep first.”

Steve picked you up and put you on the bed. “Of course, doll. You need your rest.”

“Thank you, Stevie. I really don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do, honey. You deserve the world.” He said, pulling one of his shirts out of a drawer and passing it to you to change into. “Now let’s get some good rest and make sure that you take your meds in the morning. They’ll help.”

“Okay, Stevie. Can I have a kiss before we go to bed?”

Steve smiled softly at you sitting quietly on the bed. “You know you never have to ask me that, sweetie.” He said, kissing you softly. You crawled under the covers, holding them open for Steve who quickly jumped in between your arms. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too, Steve.” You said, drifting off quickly for the first time in 3 months.

Hey everybody! Look at this! I got a fic out! The beginning of this was rewritten about 3 times before I decided on a situation that wasn’t so gruesome I almost couldn’t sleep due to what my brain came up with, but also was something that people would probably read bc I had an idea for an sa story but figured that would trigger too many people. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this!

Taglist: @chrisevansdaughter, @nana1000night, @sarahrogersevans, @buckybarnesandmarvel

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

[mtg-player1]

me: *finished with tasks, about to go to sleep*

me: "I need to think about what I'll say about that debilitating flashback in my next therapy session"

me: *thinks about the trigger and flashback*

the flashback: *harms me further*

I have some very poorly thought out ideas sometimes. Imma be real. That was not pleasant.

[tsukiyostarr]

if you’re having a panic attack, try naming 5 different things of your 5 senses (ex. list 5 things you see, 5 things you hear, ect ect)

it really does help and this is the one strategy my therapist has given me time and time again for when i’m having a panic attack or traumatic flashback

ALSO deep breathing like it sounds really corny but in all seriousness try to take some deep breaths, list things in your senses, and then take some more deep breaths

obviously everyone is different and these strategies might be shit but try them :)

[yaldabaothadeez]

Indeterminate sexual preference / Something retro on my necklace.

[jaime-in-chaos]

Not great things happened.

[johannepetereric]

THIS IS WHY BIKING GLOVES AND PADS ARE A THING, GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!

[imdeadtiredtm]

Gunpowder and the Scalpel

May Day 4: Science

 Danny’s parents call themselves scientists. They make weapons, wearing bright red googles as crimson sparks fly and the metal curls and binds like old paint in the summer heat. They study martial arts and they study and read on strategies, leaving the lab in a thick puff of chalk like morning fog and the board with traces of formulas and planes and blueprints, even the layout of Amity.

Wanting nothing more, with the very goal to cut open ghosts and see how they tick. How would they work, inside and out, with no heart? With no lungs? How, then, would a moving thing be still classified as dead?

“How is it that they havent dissected any ghosts yet?” Jazz asked him one night, she came into his room as their parents try to hunt for his ghost. “They do this so often, and yet-”

“Yeah,” Danny tells her, “I let them go. Set it up, make it look like their stuff failed.”

“Oh.” She pauses as she looks at his ceiling with its star-like stickers as Danny jams and clicks the mouse as DOOM plays, never looking away from the soft glow of the screen.

“This is going to sound terrible,” she told him. “And I’m not actually suggesting it, but…” She took a breath. “But if they… got to cut open a ghost, wouldent they know better on how they work? And then we could read their papers and listen to them talk about what they found, so we could have a better understanding on how you might work?”

Danny shook his head and frowned as Sam’s character sliced through him and Tucker. Damn. “Yeah, but then they would also know how ghosts work, and right now my saving grace is that Mom and Dad don’t actually get ghosts. Most of it is theory without practice and that means they can’t do things like, you know, biotic weapons. That, lets say, sends a scentless gas through the Amity and shrivels up every ghost in proximity that they can study and store even more remains.”

Tuckers character throws out a bomb that chips Sam’s armor. nice. “And that’s still putting all moral implications aside; letting what is somewhat-technically my species being cut up while conscious in the basement.”

“Oh god, what about the GIW-“

“Vlad sabotages them too,” Danny said. “Between me catching the ghosts before everyone else and Vlad, DALV, whatever. Being the GIW main cash cow, therefore getting the say in where the money goes and even some policies. Still super evil, by the way, Vlad. But at the very least, we both agree that biological weaponry, to any degree of possibility, is the last thing anyone needs.”

“Jesus.” Jazz slumps in the seat next to Danny, and he can’t honestly recall when she sat down next to him. Oh well. Sam is still winning, even with Tucker and his team-up. As per usual.

“But for the original question, for the whole, I-need-to-know-my-own-biology-before-I-keel-over-to-ghost-whatever thing, Frostbite has me covered, turns out their tribe is pretty advanced with medicine.”

“It takes you, full speed, 200 miles per hour, a day to get there.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

It’s better than before, when everything was a shot in the dark. Danny still doesn’t know how to tell Sam or Tucker or even Jazz about how before the deep cuts heal he would poke around, sometimes keeping it open until his parents left for bed and Danny would cut deeper with nothing but sheer will for the pain, fingers crossed that the adrenaline would last, and take notes and studying chucks of his own flesh before stitching it up and disposing the samples.

It started late into the night. With the streetlights and the full yellow moon as his light.

It started with a deep, deep cut across the arm. He saw the stings of muscle and tendons. Of ligaments and the layers of skin. He even saw some of the bone. He saw how it all stretched and relaxed when he opened and closed his fist. A fine distraction to the growing horror that grew in the pit of his stomach.

“-Danny.” Jazz says his name, the sharpness of the syllables and the shape of its sound, as if she had said it multiple times. “Your screen went blank.”

Danny numbly stares into the black and blinks. “Oh.” He stares longer still. Thoughts unable to string together. “Ok,” He says slowly. “I’m going to bed.”

“But-“

“Please, Jazz.” Danny gives a smile that doesn’t match his eyes, “Not tonight.”

She’ll have more questions, no doubt. They all do. Everyone has their questions. But Jazz closes her mouth and hesitates before walking out and Danny’s shoulders slump.