angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Fear // Steve Rogers

"Ever heard of Jigsaw?"

You don't look up from the floor, where you have trained your eyes to convince yourself this person talking is just a figment. But then there is firm wood beneath your chin and you are forced to look up.

"Have you ever heard of Jigsaw?"

The person repeats, bluish lips too wide on every vowel. They generally have the appearance of someone malnourished, cold... scary. There's nothing to pin it on but they are so sinister. You nod your head slowly.

"Well, I like to think of my little here business venture as a classy Jigsaw. The thinking part is what might kill our contestants."

When they say contestants, there's something in your stomach that flips. The word is drawn out to savour, rolling it over their tongue and relishing in the seeming sweetness like it's a toffee.

"And we needed someone intelligent to do the practical thinking, so we thought you."

Your mouth won't open but you stare at their eyes in the hopes they'll understand: why you? How do they know who you are?

"Well, a little someone on the cleaning crew mentioned you from years past. A friend in a class who remarked upon your intellect with both a fondness and a jealousy."

That makes no bells ring and answers no questions. You had had infinite classes before now; how did they expect you to remember so easily from something so vague?

"But the logistics of how we found out about you and how we got you here... they aren't important."

They swing the wooden stick onto their shoulder while they pace. Their feet are bare, and they are also mottled blue.

"What is important is that you are here, and you can help us."

You open and close your mouth like a fish for a moment before you manage to speak. Your voice is thin and aged, somehow.

"Help with what?"

They kneel down beside you and, without thinking, you scramble away, yelping when they whip your head with that stick. When you realise what has happened, your brain tripping over itself to process everything happening, you reach up and touch your forehead. Your fingertips come away stained with blood.

"I have a vision,"

they say, narrowing their eyes at you. It isn't maliciously; they're excited,

"Of people trying to figure out impossible things."

You rub blood from your eyes, wincing.

"If they're impossible, how are they supposed to work them out?"

They grin.

"That's the fun of it; they won't be impossible, they'll just feel impossible. I want to watch them panic, I want to feel them fear me."

You breathe heavier.

"And what do you do if they can't work it out?"

They stand again and hold out their hands for you to take, to help you up. You hesitate for a second too long and they grab your hands, yanking you up. You stumble, then pad slowly behind them while they stroll to the other side of the room. A square of black glass lightens until you can see through it, at what looks like an elevator shaft. It's dingy, greenish and there's a platform sitting just above your head. You crane your neck to look up, then glance down.

There is a mess of blood and body parts abandoned in the biggest blender you have ever seen. You flinch back and bump into them. Your leg receives a slap with the stick, then they tug you to a set of stairs. At the top, another window lightens.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

You question quietly, taking a quick look at them. They smile with perverse glee, then point at the window. You look back right as a pair of people fall with a thick thud on the platform. You scream, trying to step backwards, but they hold you in place. An automated voice rings through the shaft, droning a question you can't make out. The people panic for what feels like an eternity, yelling, then the automated voice says something else. The people glance at one another before they plummet. Blood sprays and you scream again.

"That is my vision, my darling. Help me with my vision."

~

When you wake, you scream, a guttural shriek shaking your body and forcing you onto the floor. You can feel the fear wrack your body and it takes you a moment to compose yourself, blood ringing in your ears and blacking your vision.

"Breathe, okay, just breathe." Steve says, and his voice is more demanding than delicate. You heave and wretch, and Steve puts his hands on your shoulders.

"Y/n, breathe."

"I can't." You choke, gripping his arms. Your nails pierce his skin but he doesn't flinch, just shuffles closer to you and rests his forehead on yours.

"You can. With me, in for seven, hold for four, out for eight. In," he breathes with you, inhaling exaggeratedly. You follow his example, "Hold... Out."

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

Steve pecks your nose while you keep breathing, heart rate coming down to normal and mind calming down. Steve soothes you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms while you weaken against him.

"Okay, we're okay, we're okay, we're okay." He murmurs, holding your head to his chest and stroking your hair. You clutch his shirt and sigh.

"We're okay."

~~~~~

i'm writing this at four in the morning

because the part about the trapdoors and falling and working things out and stuff was a nightmare i had

like literally five minutes ago

i can't think about anything else but if i keep thinking about it i'm gonna cry or combust or something

so i'm making steve comfort me

(even though there's basically no steve in this chapter i'm sorry)

all love,

viv x

p.s. kat and nate did have a baby ! she's called annabelle and she is fucking annoying