#In the balance

[goodgirlofglory]

In the balance - Chapter 9: the world in the balance

Chapter 8

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 6,1k

Warnings: non-con (series), dub-con (series), descriptions of ptsd symptoms, panic attacks, descriptions and references to past psychological, sexual and physical abuse

Summary: your world is suddenly turned on it’s head when Steve leaves you in the care of his best friend to go hunt your attackers down. You just have to get through it until Steve returns, but that can prove difficult when Bucky starts to prod into you and Steve’s relationship...

Note: First of all, it’s been a year since i last updated this story and it’s been a bitch. I'm starting to see the ending approach though, which is great cuz im looking forward to write it🥰 For those of you who have been consistently commenting on how you were looking forward to the next chapter - THANK YOU! You guys kept me going<333 Hope you enjoy🦋

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You stared out of the floor to ceiling window, vertigo sloshing in the back of your head as you peered down at the gridwork of roads and flashing lights, the cars and people looking like ants from all the way up here in the clouds. You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, fighting the nausea down.

A broad hand suddenly clasped around the back of your neck and you jolted.

“Whoah there, it’s just me,” Steve said as he gave your neck an affectionate squeeze. He stepped up behind you and wrapped you in his arms, his big, warm hands sliding down to stroke lovingly over your swollen belly. It was getting heavier for each day that passed, and the kid was getting more restless along with it. You leaned your head back against his chest, closing your eyes as he swayed you from side to side.

- a flash of light in the dark, cold marble under your bare feet, a sickening crunch. So much blood -

Your eyes shot open and you heaved for breath, suddenly choking on air.

“Whoah there, it’s alright,” Steve said, turning you around and putting his hands on your shoulders while bending down to catch your eyes. “I know this is a big change, and we both would rather be back home, but it’s not safe there anymore. Remember I told you that, buttercup? Not like up here. The building is heavily secured and no helicopter could sneak in - the city has a million eyes. You’re safe here, sweetheart, there’s no need to worry that pretty, little head. I’m gonna keep you safe like I always have,” he said, repeating what he’d been telling you over the last 24 hours as you’d moved across the country.

A penthouse in the middle of Manhattan, New York City. 8,4 million people right below you, crawling underfoot while you swayed up in the clouds, 1300 feet up in the air. Your worst nightmare a couple of months ago. Now, you didn’t really know how to feel. You were so tired, and confused. Your memories of that horrible night were blurry blotches, and you fought between not wanting to remember all those atrocious images of blood splattering and bones breaking, and feeling so panicky over the black spots in your recollection it made your head all loopy.

“Besides, Bucky will be here with you, to keep you safe until I return to you,” Steve continued, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek softly.

That’s right, Steve was leaving. After everything that had happened, Steve was leaving, almost right this second. To catch the guys that were behind the attack on the mansion and see that they’re put away, all so I can get back to you and the baby before it’s born, he’d said when you’d hidden your face in his chest and sobbed uncontrollably at him breaking the news of his departure.

You supposed you understood. He wanted the bad men in jail by the time you went into labor, so he could be with you from then on without worrying for your safety. You got the logic of it, it was now or never. It still terrified you. You needed Steve, and just when everything was going so well between you, he was leaving you. All alone in this huge, fancy penthouse in a city with millions of people. Okay, you knew you were being irrational and naggy and ungrateful. Steve had gotten you the most secure, safe and luxurious residence he could after the mansion, perhaps even more secure, under the ever watchful gaze of the city, breaking in would be even more difficult. Besides, Steve had apparently been their primary target that night, not you. So if he was out there hunting them hunting him, the target was off your back, collateral or not. Plus, Steve was leaving Bucky here for you.

Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. There is no one in this world I trust more than him. He's the only one besides myself I would entrust with your safety. An old friend, the polar opposite of Steve. Scruffy where Steve was cleanly groomed, broody where Steve was charming, quiet where Steve knew the perfect things to say. You'd barely even spoken a word to Bucky, and he always seemed to have this glare directed your way, scrutinizing your every move with cold eyes under a heavy brow. Neither of you had seemed particularly pleased with the arrangement, but Steve had assured you Bucky was the sweetest, most nobel man out there, and that he would do this for you and Steve - no questions asked. Didn’t change the trickle of ice that ran down your spine at the way Bucky assessed you, the coldness in his stare, and the way it put you on edge.

So Steve was leaving, and you were to be alone in this strange, new home with a man you didn’t know. And you were seven and a half months pregnant. With Steve’s super enhanced baby. If you weren’t so sure of the baby’s strength, you’d worry about an early labor from all the duress you’d been under these last few days…

Steve pulled you into his arms, careful not to squish your belly too hard, and kissed the top of your head while stroking a soothing hand up and down your back. You needed his touch so bad, had become so addicted to his constant physical connection, you were already dreading the withdrawals when he left. You already felt lonely.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured into your hair, tilting your head back to tenderly kiss your lips. “You be a good girl for me, and treat Bucky like this is his home too,” he murmured against your lips, making you shiver. It had been days since he’d fucked you, you hadn’t had any time alone between moving residence and him planning whatever mission he was going on with his organisation. You were aching for him, body and soul, and weren’t ready for him to go. You weren’t ready…

But he left either way.

And then you were at a complete loss. What were you supposed to do in a penthouse all day without Steve? You couldn’t take walks like on the vast lawns of the mansion with the soft, perpetually green grass under your bare feet. The penthouse was huge, sure, and two stories, with several enormous bedrooms with private bathrooms and a sitting area on the second floor and big kitchen and way too big living room on the first, along with a personal spa, a private cinema, guest rooms, personal gym and more bathrooms. Nearly the whole apartment had floor to ceiling windows, making your slight vertigo a constant with how the looming, chaotic city below and endless sky above. And you, floating in the middle. Your only option was to go down all those levels and walk in the city. Could you even do that?

A knock on the door had you slowly emerging from your thoughts, sitting on the edge of your new bed in your new bedroom, the sheets unrumpled and made up exactly like a hotel. How long had it been since Steve left? Five minutes? Five hours? You turned around to see Bucky standing in the opening of the cracked open door, shoulders almost as broad as the doorway.

“I’ve prepared some food for you,” he said, leveling you a very evaluating stare you tried not to shrink under.

Food. You had no appetite, your stomach full of dark, messy feelings and a restless baby. But you always ate when Steve prepared your meals nowadays, so you should probably do it when Bucky did too. You gave a little nod, and the brunette didn’t wait around for you to walk together down to the first floor of the penthouse.

Down in the kitchen, the aroma of creamy sauce and garlic filled your nose, and you tried opting for a seat at the kitchen island before realizing you just couldn’t get up with your belly. Bucky was loading up plates by the stove, and turned in time to see you wobble on your feet as you tried hiking yourself on the high bar stool. Your cheeks were hot with mild embarrassment as you instead opted for the dining table right next to the kitchen, sighing in relief as you got the weight off your bloated feet. They were already starting to hurt like hell, and Steve hadn’t been gone even a day yet.

Bucky appeared a moment later and put a dish down next to you. Pasta with mushrooms of some kind, a cheesy cream sauce and small pieces of bacon. The aroma was mouth watering. Bucky took the seat across the table from you as you picked up the utensils and started eating. You could scarcely stop the moan escaping you as you took your first mouthful.

“This is delicious,” you said between the next bite and the one after, already shuffling the food into yourself in a rather unmannered way. It took you a while to realize Bucky had neither answered you, nor moved a muscle, his own steaming dish of pasta untouched before him. A ping of unease flared to life inside you.

You looked up to meet his gaze and nearly winced at how cold his eyes were, pinning you with a look that could only be described as scrutiny. Your muscles seized, a premonition blooming. That wasn’t the look you expected, and definitely one that you liked.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“W-what?” you answered after nearly choking on your food. You’d introduced yourself only a few days ago, had he forgotten? How did the room suddenly feel colder, Bucky’s cool, steel eyes raising goosebumps along your skin in a flair of nerves.

“Who do you work for?” he asked.

“I…I don’t have a job anymore, Steve, um… I quit,” you answered, confused, trying not to focus on how you’d gotten out of your last job at that local yarn and handicraft store in your hometown.

“There is no point in feigning innocence here, I’ll get your file any minute now,” he said, and that threw you for a loop before your unease doubled. Your breath was speeding up, getting choppy.

“You’re running background checks on m-me?” you asked. What the hell was he suspecting you of doing? You hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, couldn’t remember having done anything wrong.

Bucky didn’t answer your question, just sat there while his meal turned cold.

“If you have anything to confess, I suggest you do it now, before I get the intel,” he warned you instead.

Your heart was picking up speed, your stomach restless both from a sudden nausea and the kid squirming around. Steve had said Bucky was noble and trustworthy, but here he was being all threatening and cold, and you were locked into this apartment alone with him. The sudden feeling of danger made your head spin, and your mind wandered back to that night.

-sudden lights at the window, your body moving too slow under all its extra weight, your heart in your throat -

Bucky leaned forward in his chair somewhat.

“What are you planning on doing with the baby? What is your plan for Steve?”

Hot tears sprung from your eyes like a sudden faucet, and a violent sob burst from you.

-hot, sticky blood raining down on your face in patters, the mortified gurgling sound of a throat ripped apart -

Your chair toppled over as you jumped up, driven by a flash of adrenalin, and you groaned as your joints protested the sudden movement with pain.

“I…what…n-no, he was the one who..I tried to say no, I never wanted - I didn’t want -”

Your throat closed on another sob, your lungs burning and you just couldn’t draw enough breath into them, panic making you suddenly dizzy. Your thoughts were running too fast, a voice in your head yelling at you to not say anything bad about Steve, about how he got you to the mansion, about how he got you pregnant.

You swayed dangerously to one side, your feet numb and weak, and for a split second you registered Bucky’s expression turning from suspicious and hard to something more concerned, a crack in his confidence. He got to his feet and clasped a hand around your upper arm. On second thought you should’ve realized he was trying to keep you from falling flat on your face, but in the moment all you saw was the masked man who’d tried to pry you from the closet in the mansion and drag you away.

Your reflexes kicked in, and before you knew it, your hands met Bucky’s chest with all the strength you could muster. Bucky did not fly across the room like the masked man had flown down the stairs - Bucky merely stumbled a step back - but the pure shock on his face registered in your mind even through your panicked haze. The half-open mouth, wide eyes and pinprick pupils, the color that drained several shades from his otherwise tanned skin and rosy cheeks. You might as well have flung him to the moon.

Your mind cleared slightly from its dizziness as you realized the baby’s inherited strength had charged yours once again, but your breath was still too short, too fast, the oxygen rasping up and down your esophagus before it could even reach your lungs. You were going to die, your mind thought with a pathetic little whimper.

“Whoah, easy,” Bucky said, taking a step forward with his hands raised in surrender, worry alight on his features where suspicion had been only a minute ago. “Breathe, c’mon breathe,” he said, gently stepping up to where you stood frozen in place, doing all you could to keep conscious as your head started pounding from the pressure and lack of oxygen. You watched as he brought one hand up to cradle your elbow, and found yourself reaching out your own hand to cling to him, grabbing on to his arm with your nails first. It somehow helped, if only a fraction, the warm, real, corporal feeling of his flesh working as a lifeline to keep you rooted to the earth, to reality, to consciousness. Your feet moved on their own, staggering a step closer to grab his other arm with your hand.

Help me, please, help, you thought with desperation as your irregular breaths got fractionally deeper.

“That’s it, breathe for me,” Bucky said as he let you draw closer to him, your nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. He looked into your eyes, his own calmer now than before, gentler, staring into yours so hard it forced you to focus through your panic, noticing with increasing awareness the speckle of green in his irises, how the light caught the blue, how his pupils slowly expanded as your breaths got longer and more even.

“That’s right, good girl,” he murmured, when at last your breath evened out and you could pry your stiff fingers from where they were stabbing into his forearms.

God, you needed a hug. Your feet felt like jello, there was a stab of pain in the back of your neck. You were going to have such a gnarly headache. And you needed a hug, your nerves hanging on by a frail, frayed thread. You needed Steve, but he wasn’t here, so you needed a hug, and the burly figure in front of you seemed like he gave great, big, warm ones.

Leaning forward, you slumped against Bucky, your face smushing into his chest, not caring that he was a practical stranger and that he’d just accused you of being some secret, evil succubus spy. Bucky stiffened noticeably as you practically fell into him, but then his arms came up to wrap around you, steadying you with an air of politeness.

You’re sure the moment was exceedingly awkward, but you were suddenly so overwhelmed and tired and filled with grief you couldn’t even feel it. Bucky was warm, like a furnace, so incredibly warm.

You were halfway into exhausted slumber by the time Bucky gently pried you away from his chest, and you barely kept the disappointed mewl from slipping past your lips. You looked up into his eyes, and saw tension there, intense and concentrated, along with unmistakable curiosity, still a little tainted by suspicion. But he asked you no further questions, simply said “let’s get you upstairs so you can rest” and then tugged you gently along back to your room and into bed. You were slipping into unconsciousness when you felt the bed dip, the silk sheet being draped over you and a gentle squeeze to your shoulder.

§

You awoke to the gentle rap of knuckles on your door and the smell of chamomile tea. You were still in the same clothes, sheet draped over you, and you blinked bleary, exhausted eyes open to see Bucky standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.

You sat up and smiled a little as he made his way over to the bed, though you weren’t quite brave enough to meet his eyes. He put the tray down beside you on the bed and lingered.The tray had a mug of tea and a salad that looked delicious, with a wide variety of greens and cheese, nuts and seeds and a dressing of some kind. It looked like the perfect textbook snack Steve would’ve prepared for you. He’d probably given Bucky list upon list of things to give you and make sure you did while he was away. Steve and his imperious ways. You couldn’t help smile at that, your heart aching for him, feeling that Steve wasn’t too far away for a tiny moment.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asked.

“Better,” you said, truly feeling better in that moment, and patted the bed for him to sit and join you. You needed to get along with Bucky if he was Steve’s best friend.

You dug into the food, feeling famished. You felt Bucky watching you, and forced yourself to not lock up. You could feel the questions hanging in the air between you, but if you just pretended everything was fine, maybe he’d forget about asking them. You didn’t know how much Steve would allow you to tell about…well, anything.

“Can I ask you something?” he said after a minute of silence as you ate and sipped from your tea.

Oh crap, here we go

You dared to look up at him, meeting his baby blue eyes for a second before giving him a tiny nod and continuing to eat.

“You said something before…downstairs, when I asked what your plan for the baby and Steve was,” he started. He was speaking softly, no accusation in his tone whatsoever, but your heartbeat still sped up in your chest.

Scrambling, you tried to remember what you’d said. That whole ordeal was a blur, you couldn’t remember much outside feeling you were going to die from lack of oxygen.

Trying to keep your breathing in check, you raised a shoulder, trying for relaxed and feeling much too stiff, hoping against hope that Bucky would just let it go.

“You said that Steve was the one who…something, and that you had tried to say no. That you didn’t want…something,” Bucky said, sitting unmoving on the edge of the bed. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, afraid he’d see something in them you didn’t mean to show. Afraid you would betray Steve in some way, a sickening pulse of guilt wracking through you. “What did you mean by that?” Bucky asked after several long, silent seconds.

You tried opening your mouth to speak only to choke on your own spit, swallowing painful before opening your mouth again.

“I didn’t mean anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t say - I didn’t mean anything with it,” you stammered out, and bloody hell, you didn’t even believe yourself in that moment, all sweaty hands, flaky eyes and trembling voice.

Please don’t ask me anything more about it, you’ll ruin everything

You knew without looking that Bucky didn’t believe you, he was way too quiet for that, unmoving, assessing you, scrutinizing your crumbling appearance.

Why can’t you just let it go?, you thought desperately.

The food you’d just consumed churned in your stomach.

“Are you sure?” you heard him say, and you stared down at your hands in your lap, giving him a tiny, unconvincing nod.

Just leave it, please.

Bucky got up from the bed, the mattress aligning itself without his weight, and stood by it for a moment. You kept your gaze lowered, forcefully holding your anxiety down in order to keep what suspicions you could at bay.

“I’m going out to the city for an errand. Would you like to join me?” he asked.

You couldn’t help how your face shot up in surprise, how your eyes widened as you processed his words.

“What?”

Bucky looked you dead in the eyes, still scrutinizing, but he shifted on his feet as though a bit uncertain of himself.

“Well, Steve told me you liked to walk around the garden of his estate, and he insisted I try and keep your daily routine as unchanged as possible. If you were used to walking a lot, this apartment isn’t really big enough for that, so I thought you could join me in the city to get your steps in. We could take a turn around central park if you’d like,” Bucky said.

Walking. In the city.

You shook your head a little. No, you couldn’t do that. Were you even allowed? You doubted Steve meant for Bucky to take you into the city when he said to keep your routine unchanged. Still, an aching flare of need burst to life in your chest. Going outside. You wanted to go outside, to feel the breeze on your face, smell the rose garden, to listen to the birds. You knew you wouldn’t find much of that in New York city though.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the need to get outside the glass cage that was the apartment warring with your uncertainty of being with all those people in the streets below. Things had not gone well the last time you’d done that. All that time ago, before things had become so good between you and Steve. Before he’d made you see you weren’t cut out for being independent. That you would be so much happier with him. Under his protection.

“Oh come on, it won’t take long, we’ll go as slow as you need,” Bucky said, and though his tone was lighter now, his eyes didn’t relent in their careful assessment of you.

Would he become more suspicious if you refused? You feared it. What normal woman would suddenly refuse to go for a walk if that was what she was used to? Maybe Steve wouldn’t mind. Or maybe you just desperately wanted to be somewhere else but inside the apartment all the way up in the sky like this, perched and dizzy.

“Okay,” you finally conceded.

You tried for a smile as Bucky bid you to meet him by the private elevator on the first floor in fifteen minutes.

The tiny hope that Steve wanted you to take walks down on the NYC streets soon died as you went through your closet and realized there was no coat nor any real shoes in the wardrobe Steve had curated for you. Uncharacteristically driven to succeed at your prerogative though, you put on a double pair of socks and the flat strappy sandals from way in the back of the closet, dorned your thickest cardigan and made your wobbly way downstairs.

Bucky was waiting by the elevator, checking something on his phone. A phone. How long had it been since you’d seen a mobile phone? He put it away as you approached, smiling as he lifted his gaze to you. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he looked over your outfit.

“It’s way too cold out for that, I’ll get your coat, and you should probably put on some boots,” he said, moving to go past you. Your hand shot out and landed on his chest, halting him.

“N-no, I, uh, I haven’t got any,” you blurted. His warmth burned through the layers of his sweater, distracting as your palm absorbed the heat.

His eyes narrowed on you.

“You haven’t got a coat or shoes?” he asked, and you just knew you’d revealed the wrong thing. This looked so bad.

“No, I do,” you lied,” Steve must’ve just forgotten to pack them when we moved, it all just happened so quickly, you know,” you said, smiling a little up at him, hoping he would back off at the reference to that night. “Anyway, I prefer these sandals. Bloated feet and whatnot.”

Bucky leveled you with his narrowed stare for a few seconds longer, probably weighing your words with whatever he could read on your face.

“All right, but I’m getting you one of my jackets. It’s a chilly day and I don’t want to risk your health,” he said sternly and made a beeline for his own room.

You breathed a sigh of relief, belatedly realizing he could’ve cancelled the whole outing outright because of this. You were suddenly quite…happy he didn’t. You were excited to go out, you realized, eager almost. And nervous, so nervous the baby was getting increasingly restless within you, moving about in your belly as you waited for Bucky to return, staring at the elevator doors in front of you.

You almost didn’t hear Bucky return with the way your blood pumped in your ears, not until a leather jacket was gently draped over your shoulders, the smell of a spicy cologne and well worn leather wafting into your nose. Not unpleasant, you realized as you insinuated your arms into it and brought it around yourself.

“Sorry, this is the only thing I have that I think’ll fit around your…um, well everything,” Bucky said, hesitating as he gestured vaguely at your belly and you noticed the faintest of pink dusting his cheeks.

How thoughtful…

“Thanks,” you said, closing the zipper at the front of the jacket tightly over your belly. It was snug, but it did indeed fit. Your outfit couldn’t have been more uncoordinated if you tried, with your woolen socks and strappy sandals, an ankle length satin dress and big, black leather jacket. But you didn’t care. You were going outside.

Adrenaline started pumping in your system the second the elevator pinged and the doors opened, and you again fought to keep up appearances and you stiffly moved into the little steel chamber to be taken down to ground level.

It’s perfectly normal to go outside, it’s perfectly normal to leave the house, there’s nothing to be afraid of, you kept repeating to yourself silently, avoiding looking in the direction of your chaperone.

You did well, you thought as you stared at the display above the door counting down the floor numbers until it only displayed a capitol “L” for lobby. Ground floor. Here we go.

Only, when the elevator doors opened, and there were several people waiting to ride it up, just standing outside, minding their business, not even looking at you…you couldn’t move.

Something was wrong, this was all wrong, you shouldn’t be doing this, you knew you shouldn’t.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed Bucky watching you, waiting for you to move ahead of him, observing even more of those things you were certain Steve wouldn’t want you to show him. The baby kicked your ribs.

“Come on, little lady,” Bucky murmured, and a warm, gentle hand on your back carefully nudged you forward. Under the guise of being heavily pregnant (which you were), you slowly moved forward, out of the elevator, not brave enough to meet the eyes of the people waiting, but murmuring thanks to them as they moved out of the way for you and Bucky.

Your breathing was choppy, and Bucky moved you to the side as soon as you were out of the way of the elevators. There was so much noise in the lobby, people milling about, music from somewhere, some children somewhere screaming with laughter, and through the opening doors all the way on the other side of the vast voajer, the deafening roar of city traffic filtered in.

Steve’s voice was suddenly loud in your head. You can’t make it out there, you’re too weak, too frail, they’ll swallow you whole, the voice whispered with finality, growing in volume, warping into a static roar. The laughter of the children turned to screams, the crowds noise became a deafening tsunami of sound, the blaring horns from cars hurting your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut and -

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise like a knife, bringing you back to your body with a pair of strong, warm hands on your shoulders, like anchors on your mind. “You’re okay,” he said, bowing his head to capture your gaze with his own.

You stared into his eyes, realizing you were about to spiral into your second panic attack that day, and that he’d calmed you down for the second time as well.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice low and comforting, not drawing any attention to the two of you from the other people in the lobby.

“I’m, -” you rasped, realizing you were on the verge of hyperventilating, “I’m too weak,” you whimpered.

“Too weak for what? You look pale, is it the baby? Do you need to sit down?” Bucky asked, looking you over while keeping you from wobbling.

No, it wasn’t the baby, it was never the baby. It was you, you were too weak.

“No, the baby is fine, the baby is strong. It’s me, I’m too weak to make it out there on my own,” you nearly whined, eyeing the doors to the outside warily.

“What do you mean? You’re not alone. I’m here with you. And besides, you are strong, I felt it earlier,” Bucky said. You could tell he was sort of confused as to why he needed to give you a pep talk just to leave the lobby, but here he was. He put a hand on your belly, and the warmth of his palm could be felt through the layers of clothing, even through the leather of his jacket. The touch grounded you even more, sharpening your focus. You looked into his deep, earnest blue eyes. “You’re protecting the little one, right? You are his or her momma bear, and he or she gives you the strength and courage to do it, right?”

You stilled at those words, felt them absorb into you, felt them settle neatly somewhere deep inside you.

That’s…right. That’s it. Your baby gave you strength, unnatural amounts of strength, and you needed to protect your baby. Only you could protect your baby, you could feel it, deep down in the marrow of your bones, a deep-rooted unwavering certainty that could only be some instinctual thing inherited from all the mothers that came before you. How had you not noticed that before? How did Bucky manage to find the words that somehow unlocked that knowledge? Or maybe it’d been there the whole time…

Like a fog, the panic and anxiety lifted slightly from your hazy mind, and you laughed. Suddenly, a bit shakily, and incredibly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping at a few tears that escaped your eyes. You hadn’t even realized you were on the verge of tears.

Bucky smiled warmly.

“No need. I can’t imagine what all those hormones are putting you through, but if looks rough, I gotta tell you that. Now, how about we get on with the mission, if you’re still up for it?” he said, taking his hand off your belly and squeezing your shoulders reassuringly once before retreating them both from your form.

You nodded.

Your baby gives you strength, you protect your baby, you repeated in your head again and again as you followed Bucky to the doors. Though not a miracle cure, you found yourself steadily moving out the doors, into the streets, down the sidewalk, across to the next street and then on.

It was like watching yourself from outside your body. Here you were, just six weeks shy of your due date, walking the streets of New York city like a normal person. You kept expecting the world to explode, but it didn’t. You kept expecting the people meeting you on the street to brandish clubs or knives or needles to hurt you with, but they all pretty much ignored you.

Suddenly, Bucky had finished his errand and you found yourself waddling around Central Park with Bucky, breathing in the fresh air, listening intently for the bird song. You kept on the lookout for rose bushes to smell, but found the worm leather of your jacket made a surprisingly nice replacement. A child gave you a grin that lacked a front tooth and excitedly pointed at your belly before her mother pulled her away, scolding her for being rude. You couldn’t help waving at her and smiling as she was dragged away, looking back to find Bucky watching you, his eyes gentle, but guarded. He’d kept a close eye on you ever since leaving the apartment building, but strangely, you found yourself pushing the worries for what he might be thinking far away.

You hadn’t felt this calm in days. The breeze was gentle and cooling on the exposed skin of your face, your leg muscles thrummed pleasantly from how long you’d walked and the open sky above you made you feel like you could finally breathe properly again. You suspected Bucky might be part of why you felt so safe to just enjoy these sensations right now, but his words from earlier hadn’t stopped shining like a lighthouse in the back of your mind.

The baby gave you strength, and you would use that strength to protect your baby…and yourself. You had come to realize you’d already done that in the past. When that man had grabbed you from the closet in the mansion, you hadn’t freezed and cowered and yielded to whatever violence he’d dish out. You had defended yourself. You’d used the strength the baby gave you and protected you both. How had you not seen that as a reason for confidence before now?

Who knew how long those words could keep your anxiety at bay. For now, you made the most of this uncommon calm and said virtually nothing to Bucky for the rest of the walk before he took you back to the apartment complex.

The minute the elevator doors closed and locked behind you, and you reluctantly gave Bucky his leather jacket back, the threatening gloom of fear began to sink over you. You raised your chin, repeated your new found mantra to yourself and reflected on a new found experience you hadn’t believed possible. You had just been out almost all day in New York city, one of the busiest and most dangerous cities on the planet, and nothing had gone wrong. Fretful hope bloomed inside you. Maybe, just maybe things could work out for you. Maybe you didn’t have to be so scared shitless all the time. Hadn’t you lived and managed on your own before? In another life, all that time ago? Hadn’t that been you on your own for years before Steve entered your life?

You wobbled over to the couch, sighing deeply as you finally got your weight off your feet. Amazing as it was to feel the ache in your legs from muscles well spent walking, you could already feel all the aches in your body that Steve usually kept at bay with his massages, start to grow - beginning in your feet and lower back.

Steve…

Just the thought of him had you aching in an entirely different way. God, you missed his hands on your skin, how he fired up this all-consuming need in you, made you desperate for him. You were wound embarrassingly tight already, backed up in a way that was hard to ignore.

Before you could fall further into that line of thought, Bucky entered the living room. One look at him had your pleasant mood shifting.

“We need to talk,” he said.

[karoiseka]

O twin gods bless this land, to us treasure bestow City of desert sands, water and gold below

Lifeblood and rubies red, precious coins cast aglow Four hands our fortunes mend, that want we may not know

And when we reach our ends, to scales we gladly go Our fates are yours to bend, to hells and heavens flow

Karo danced, as she always did, playing her viola for the twins during their yearly pilgrimage to the alters in Thanalan.  Feophaux and Seirlait’s eyes shown with pride at how their girl had grown, spinning to the chorus around her.

[musicwebsiteblog]

Vitesse X (@vitesse-x) "In The Balance" released 1/18/2023 via Music Website (@musicwebsiteblog)

“This was my first time dropping a vocal-less single, so I wasn’t exactly sure how well it would resonate w everyone, but you’ve been giving it so much love this past week 🥹 Really makes me feel like I can continue to express myself in the most authentic way possible. So thank u! ♥︎”

-Vitesse X

Written & Recorded by Vitesse X Produced by Vitesse X Mixed by Abe Seiferth Mastered by Joe Laporta Artwork by Michael Askew

[knightofleo]

Vitesse X | In The Balance

[zytes]

this manatee looks like it’s in a skyrim loading screen

[zegalba]

Hadi Rahnaward: 'Fragile Balance' (2023) rug sculpture created with matches

[dailydivergent]

There’s no such thing as work-life balance for neurodivergent & chronically ill people.

This is because everything in my life requires work:

maintaining friendships

keeping up with my hygiene

managing bills

making money

remembering my basic needs

sleeping regularly

outputting creatively

All requires some aspect of work for me.

And when everything in your life requires work, your balance goes out the window.

If you're neurodivergent and overwhelmed — I see you.

If you're chronically ill and overwhelmed — I see you.

You're not dysfunctional.

You're not incapable.

You're doing your best.

[spookberry]

🌲 Oregon Miku 🌲

[mahgyu]

DIVINE TRINITY

[goodgirlofglory]

In the balance - Chapter 8: Ragged depths

Chapter 7

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 5,2k

Warnings: non-con (series), dub-con (series), explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood, graphic descriptions of violence and death, like gnarly stuff (at least as gnarly as I've ever written), smut, oral (f recieving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, daddy kink.

Summary: Lost in an endless, repetitive dream of luxury and pleasure in Steve's arms, finally accepting of your fate and the pregnancy you can no longer hope to terminate, you think all is safe and well - until strangers appear in the middle of the night. Though these strangers ignite fear in you, witnessing the way Steve deposes of them might be what ignites true fear in you...

Note: WOOOO CHILD, finally got around to finishing this chapter. Sorry for the wait and thank you for the patience from those of you still following this series and asking for updates. Love you🫶

A special thanks to this ask that inspired this chapter. Really, I just took dear anons idead and ran with it😘😘

This shit it DARK! Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the content of the warnings upset you!

Minors DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!🚫

Reblogs, likes, replies and asks are amazing🦋

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock just like that,” Steve groaned as he pounded into you from behind. You could barely manage a gasping intake of breath as his cock hit that spot inside you dead-on and you arched your back on instinct, trying to get him deeper. Steve groaned approvingly, gripping your hips tighter as he speared you harder. 

It was the third time that day, this time bent over the kitchen table. It had only taken a look and the grazing of your fingers as Steve handed you your tea. Next thing you knew, your panties were down around your ankles, your dress hiked up over your head and you were being fucked within an inch of your life, completely naked, bent over the table. The cool air from the open patio door sent goosebumps over your exposed skin, and the obscene slick between your legs squelched in between Steve’s grunts and your gasping moans. Steve had his pants down around his ankles, and he was bent over you, mouthing aggressively at your neck. 

You whined as another pounding wave of pleasure rippled through you, threatening to take your knees out. Steve’s hands wound around to your rounded belly, stroking over the bump and groaning against the nape of your neck, pushing his face into your hair and taking in greedy gulps of your air, and you flushed at the aggressive way he was smelling you, your hormones no doubt driving his frenzy higher.

“You’re so gorgeous like this, all round and heavy with my baby” he growled, and the ownership in his voice made you keen. “Walking around like this, letting me see just how much you’ve grown from my seed inside you,” Steve said, nibbling on your ear and the skin below it in a proprietary way. You flushed hot from the top of your head down to your toes, trying to hide your rapidly heating face, the way his praise washed over you like silk, making you thrust your hips back to meet his pelvis. 

“Mmm, did you like the sound of that, baby?” Steve teased, smiling against the clammy skin of your neck, hands coming up to cup your bouncing breasts, teasing the puffy nipples and you wailed, completely beyond words. “Did you?” Steve asked again, slowing his hips down just a tad despite your sound of protest. “Answer me, sugar,” he said sternly, pinching your nipples between thumb and forefinger and your pussy throbbed, a sign you were spiraling towards the edge despite Steve slowing his thrusts. His words whirled around in your mind along with the hormonal arousal constantly begging for release and the way his warm skin felt on yours, the primal position of your fucking, the guttural sounds he made as his hands ran over your pregnant belly while his cock, hard as a rod, pounded into your yielding, wet flesh.His cock was so hard, and you knew you were dripping to the floor. 

Flushing even more profusely, you could only manage a nod, your mouth opening to desperately pull in air. Steve kissed your cheek with an open mouth, messily, moaning approvingly, but he didn’t speed up his thrusts again, and you were about to go insane, your body tense and shivering. 

“I need your words, honey, do you have a few words for daddy?” he asked, sickly sweet as one of his hands moved down to lightly graze your swollen and pulsing clit. You nearly lost your footing again, knees shaking as he teased your clit with his fingertips, hips moving steadily, jolting you forward before you moved back to meet his thrusts, mindlessly seeking more friction to bring you over the edge. Your head was completely empty of coherent thought and he knew it. 

He fucking loved when you got like this, it reminded him of those first times in your apartment, when you’d gone from a shy, terrified little bunny to a drooling, wet, empty-headed, cum-hungry whore just from his cock and words alone. 

He grazed your clit with his fingertips again and you shouted, head hanging low in your embarrassment. “Yes! I l-liked it,” you practically wailed to the floor. Steve cooed appreciatively, voice laced with the tiniest amount of degradation, but didn’t speed up his thrusts and you wanted to throw something.

“Yes what, baby?” he asked pointedly, the hand not teasing your clit to insanity coming up to turn your head up and back to catch his eyes. 

You moaned, feeling the weight of your belly shift with his thrusts, his fingers holding your pleasure so neatly just beyond your reach as they ghosted over your nub, his eyes demanding you lay your soul bare for him, give yourself completely over to his will. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, tears springing to your eyes at the way rolling shivers of pleasure rippled through you at saying those words, at being made to say those words, to him, while he held your gaze with his stare. 

He growled, eyes holding yours in a tight grip as his hips finally picked up speed, rapidly increasing to the pounding he did before, slamming against that spot inside you you could never reach yourself. 

“Good girl,” he growled, his fingers pressing to your clit, rubbing fast circles and you whined in almost alarm at the pace of which your orgasm welled up inside you. Your whole body tensed up, pussy squeezing Steve’s cock to the point of pain and he gasped. Your orgasm exploded inside you, pulling Steve right over the edge with you. 

“Fuck, just like that. Here it comes, baby,” he gritted out and then you felt the hot flush of his cum shooting inside you, his cock pulsing unevenly as he fucked himself through it, never slowing down. You knew what he was aiming at. 

Completely unable to stop him or yourself, your belly and the weight of both yourself and him pushing down and the way his cock kept ramming you in your post-orgasm sensitivity had you wailing as another string snapped. You squirted, a huge gush that exploded from you and coated both your thighs and Steve’s before splattering to the floor. 

Your body convulsed, only held up by Steve’s strong arms as your mind short-circuited from the pleasure, eyes glued to the sight of your juices wetting the floor below you. 

Something had changed in Steve since that first time he fed from you and fucked you at the same time, a tether snapping. He no longer even tried to control his desire, his demand for your body, your mind, your entire being. He was, in a word, unhinged. His hands practically never left you, always stroking, groping, gripping, rubbing, smacking your ass lightly and pinching your seemingly perpetually peaked and sensitive nipples playfully, smirking like a cat at the way you shivered. The touches would range from light, reverend grazes, like he just needed to reassure himself you were there, and possessive, tight squeezes, like he couldn’t handle not being inside you a moment longer. He usually didn’t wait long before pushing your dress up, tugging your panties off or just to the side and sheathing himself inside you with a brutish grunt. You, in turn, were so swollen and aching and needy - you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to. You needed him, needed his cock, needed him to push you against the nearest surface, keep you there while he took the edge off for the both of you - until your hormones sent the both of you into a frenzy again. 

Later in the evening, Steve had you riding him on the couch. It had started as a lower back massage, but they rarely stayed that way nowadays. Steve was as insatiable as you, and along those first times, your enthusiasm had loosened his tongue. Now he couldn’t seem to keep his praise in, making you flush hot or preen or go all shy from the filth that spewed from him. 

“Yes, that’s it baby, ride that cock, take what’s yours. You want my cum, baby? Want to milk my cock while I milk you?” he asked on a gasp as you bounced on him as good as you could with your belly rounded, still shiny from the oil he’d rubbbed into it earlier. He bent forward and took one of your leaking nipples into his mouth, his cock throbbing inside you as he fed from you while looking up into your eyes through his thick, long lashes. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he groaned, the vibrations going through your tender flesh, and sweat covered your brow as you spasmed on his cock, pussy helplessly clamping down. Steve gasped away from your breast, your milk leaking out and soaking his beard as he bent up to kiss you with a mouthful of milk. He seemed to like feeding it back to you, making out while the sweet taste of it lingered between you, completely obliterating any line of decency, sending you head first into heady depravity in that same possessive way he’d always done.

“Here it comes, baby, make sure to keep it all in for daddy,” Steve murmured against your lips before he came, and you were helpless against the lewdness of the new nickname he’d given himself, and how much you secretly liked it. You came with a cry along with him, his thumbs slowly teasing your sensitive nipples, just lingering there, covered in white milk. 

You were floating on the heady cloud of pleasure Steve kept around you at all times. Really, you had nothing else to do all day but wait for your pregnancy to advance, and you both seemed content to just fuck all day, every day. You wondered if Steve missed his job, missed the outside world. You didn’t, had stopped longing for it once Steve had made you see that the only safe thing to do was to be with him. You had everything you needed with him, anything you could want for. Steve loved and took care of you, the mansion provided every piece of food, clothing and entertainment you could wish for. Honestly, if there was anything you were desperate for, it was not to go back to those early days where all you’d been was obsessive, desperate and miserable. Once you saw the only path away from that was with Steve, you’d accepted it, and then the fog of pleasure he’d thrust upon you had wiped out any resistance. 

Steve fucked you everywhere. Under the trees in the garden, mouthing his way down your chest, taking each nipple into his mouth and laving them in generous licks before kissing his way down your rounded belly, stroking it tenderly while kissing it over and over like he just couldn’t believe it was there. It was heady and intense, this obsession with your bump, and you almost felt overwhelmed by it, by the magnitude of his devotion, by how proud and primal it made him. Steve feasted on you. He groaned against your flesh, alternating between sucks and small, teasing licks until you came on his tongue before slipping his cock inside while you were still spasming, a possessive hand on your belly as he rutted deep inside you. 

He fucked you in the shower, joining you in the morning and teasing you to delirium, tweaking your nipples until they were tender and erect, rutting his cock against your lower back until you bucked back against him, slipped a finger down to tease your ass as he thrust into your weeping cunt, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you while whispering filthy nothings into your sensitive ear and made you call him daddy.

You’d catch him watching you with darkened eyes as you waddled along, a hand on your aching lower back, and you’d be all too aware of his keen eyes as you carefully lowered yourself into a chair or the sofa with a groan. Seeing your body changing to adapt to your growing belly seemed to ignite this primal hunger in him, and his hungry stare would in turn ignite shivers on your skin, your own arousal awakening to meet his. He’d ambush you in the hall and go down on you while you leaned against the wall, your moans echoing into the grand staircase. 

“So wet for me, doll. Are you this wet for me?” he’d ask, hot breath gusting over your clit, and all you could do was nod, tugging on his hair to bring his face back to your puffy pussy. 

You welcomed it all. Craved it all. Spent less and less time in clothing, spent more time initiating touches with him. A hand on his chest as you passed him in the kitchen, a brush of fingers over his as you passed him your empty teacup, a deliberate press of your toes against his bulge as he massaged your feet. Anything to incite the desire that welled inside him like a feral tidal wave. Giggling when he gave you that downright hungry gaze before pouncing on you, pressing you into the cushions as much as was comfortable for your bump before peppering your neck with kisses, groaning what a tempting little siren you were.

You didn’t know how much time passed like that - in this pleasure limbo with Steve, where all you did was fuck, eat, sleep and occasionally monitor your pregnancy symptoms. You had one more appointment with Dr. Banner in the clinical office set up in the basement, where he declared you healthy and stable like before. Steve preened and squeezed your hand, all proud and pleased, his other hand stroking lovingly on your bump. Your bloodwork came back with interesting results too, but you understood none of it. Steve reassured you all you needed to know was that everything looked fine - better than fine. You were in tip-top shape and the baby was strong and healthy. 

You’d grown to like stroking your bump yourself now, your hand going there of its own accord. It was hard not to get fond of it with the way Steve doted on it, the way he loved you for it, so sweet and reverent, nothing like the harsh and dominating way he’d sometimes been in the past. There hadn’t been any movement in your belly yet, but you trusted it would come soon, a part of you hoping Steve would be there when you first felt that kick. A part of you started to wonder just what life would be like once the child was born. 

Life in the mansion mellowed out to a hazy, pleasure-filled dream, the days melting together even as you passed your seven months milestone of the pregnancy. It hit you that even if you gave birth now, the child would probably survive. When you’d told Steve he’d kissed you soundly, grinning from ear to ear while telling you it’d probably survived a lot earlier than this, considering it was his baby. You found yourself swatting his arm reproachfully for his cockiness, but couldn’t contain your smile as he laughed and insinuated his face into the crook of your neck to kiss your skin, pulling you closer to him so your bump was firmly pressed against his chiseled torso, warm and snug. 

Though Steve was adamant you get enough sleep, you would sometimes find yourself awakening in the middle of the night to him kissing down your body, hungry and heady. You never complained, you were so fucking horny all the time it didn’t take long before you were keening needily for him, writhing on the sheets as he licked and sucked at your pussy. Tonight was one of those nights, and the moonlight cast a silvery blue light on the calm bedroom as Steve kissed over your bump, broad hands lifting it, helping you turn to lay on your back so he could get in between your thighs. You sighed, arousal welling up like a wave inside you, slow and sluggish and pulsing languidly as he pressed his face to your mound and started licking your clit teasingly. 

Breathy sounds escaped you as you lay there, half-asleep still, riding the pleasant sensations coursing along in your veins. Time slipped away from you in these dreamlike hours, and you were getting into it, moving your hips as much as you could to help create friction on your needy parts when Steve’s head unexpectedly and abruptly disappeared from your wet cunt. Thinking he was teasing you, you lifted your hips in search of his mouth when his hand on your hips stilled you, hard and urgent.

A ping of alarm set off in the back of your mind, and you opened your eyes to peer down. Steve was on his knees in the bed, head turned towards the open doors to the bedroom, so still it was almost like he was a statue. Something was off.

“Ste-” you started to ask, but was cut off by him turning his head and lifting a finger to press to his lips, eye stark and wide in the silence of the night. You could hear nothing but your own breathing. 

Steve crawled up the bed to speak close to your ear, and you were astonished by the fact that he made no sound whatsoever, his limbs in the sheets didn’t even seem to make any noise. Distant questions of Steve’s profession whispered in the far expanses of your mind, questions you hadn’t pondered in months. 

“Stay here, don’t make a sound, I’ll be right back,” he whispered in your ear. You nodded, a kernel of fear catching on fire in your chest. It wasn’t like you could run very well in this condition. You remembered that first night he’d appeared in your apartment, the wound on his shoulder, how he said he’d gotten it from some man with a sword. 

Steve got out of the bed, only clad in a pair of gray boxer shorts and padded on soundless, bare feet to the door, peered subtly out into the hallway and then disappeared. 

Your heart was a rapidly growing thump in your chest and you lay as frozen as you could, listening and listening, straining to hear even a single thing in the dead silent night. 

Then the sound of an explosion sounded from the far side of the mansion, and all at once, the sound of shouts, gunshots, wood breaking and glass shattering filled the air. The blood in your veins turned to ice as sudden, unexpected fear spread in your body. It was happening on the lower floor, but you still felt the sudden panic of danger like a clammy film on your skin, constricting the air around you til you couldn’t breathe properly. Steve told you to wait here, to keep quiet, but as more explosions and larger sounds of shouting sounded, you found yourself propelled out of the bed, movements slow and halting as you moved with your heavily pregnant body. You were completely naked, and as you padded over to grab your robe from the hook near the bathroom door and slung it on, a booming sound of helicopter blades whipping the air appeared quicker than should’ve been possible. 

Then the room was flooded with harsh light, and you whirled around to see several bright spots of light outside the window across the room, whipping to the bed before moving around the room. You knew instantly you needed to move, to not let those searching lights find you, and instinct had you bolting through the bathroom and into the hallway through the separate door. Just as you entered the hallway, the sound of splintering and exploding glass sounded from you and Steve’s bedroom and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to not scream in terror. 

You needed to hide, or find Steve, but from the sounds of commotion still coming from the first floor, it sounded like he was occupied fighting several people at once. You ran up the corridor and slipped into the closet at the end, right by the staircase, cramming inside with an array of coats and suit jackets. Your breathing was out of control, heaving, wet, raspy sounds as you fought back tears, your heartbeat in your ears. 

Who were these people? Why were they doing this? 

You heard footsteps pounding down the hall along with shouting voices. You couldn’t hear them clearly, but caught someone telling another that there was “someone here with the target”. You tried to remember if their searching lights had hit you before you ran into the bathroom, but no, they’d had to have seen your clothes or something. Had they come for Steve, then? Why?   

Footsteps descended the staircase and you took in a shaky breath, mind fighting the way you threatened to freeze up in terror. You were safe here, they hadn’t seen you. You just needed to wait it out until Steve took them out. There were so many of them, though, and your legs almost fell out from under you at the thought of Steve not making it. How could you possibly make it on your own then? Terrorizing thoughts filled your mind, of ending up alone after all you’ve been through, alone on the streets, or worse, kidnapped and used for experimentation for the child in your womb - your child. 

Suddenly the door to the closet was wrenched open, and you came face to face with a figure clad in stealth gear, face entirely masked but for his eyes, dark and glaring, massive gun in his hands. He made to grab at you before his eyes shifted down and widened. He staggered back a tiny step as he beheld your pregnant belly, and your hands came up instinctively to cradle it, as if you could protect it that way. 

“G forty eight,” the figure said, still staring down at your body, “found another subject. Woman. P-pregnant, sir,” he said, and there was a tiny tremor in his voice that you didn’t like, like he was pleading for something. 

You stood there frozen staring at him as he listened for whatever answer would come in what you assumed was an earpiece of some kind. But as he made to grab you, grip so tight it hurt around your plump, upper arm, your fight reflex kicked in and you shoved at his chest with everything you had, a small shout of “no” escaping your lips. 

To your utter astonishment, the figure flew back from the force of your shove, clean off his feet and then right down the grand staircase. Your eyes widened to the point of pain as you stood, stunned, and watched his limp form sprawled lifeless at the foot of the stairs. 

Had you done that?

You had no more time to ponder what had just happened. Movement in your peripheral vision had your head whipping to see another masked figure clad in stealth gear appear from your bedroom, running towards you. You had nowhere to run but down the stairs, and on slow, naked feet, you started the descent, for you knew whatever you did, you could not let them get their hands on you. Maybe if you got to the garden you could hide in the abundant shrubberies and hidden pathways. You knew them by heart, and could easily navigate even in the dark of night. 

But as you got to the foot of the stairs and started across the floor towards the living room, you were stopped dead in your tracks by the sight of Steve, still only clad in boxers, fighting two masked strangers at once. He landed a brutal punch to the jaw of one, and you could hear the crunch of bone from where you stood several meters away. Steve turned and kicked the other man in the knee, and your head spun as you saw the knee crack back at an unnatural angle, the man wailing in pain. Steve turned to the other one and grabbed his arm, twisting it clean around without even seeming to try and then threw the man into the nearest wall. The wall had a dent in it as the man slid lifeless to the ground. Steve’s face didn’t even flinch as he dealt all this carnage, his face a smooth mask of calm concentration, and you could feel your stomach churning to a knot as you watched, eyes glued to your man, your sweet, loving, doting man, completely obliterating these strangers, dealing injuries they would probably live with for the rest of their lives. Your blood started roaring in your ears, the room spinning slightly from the onslaught of what you witnessed. 

As Steve went to grab the man with the broken knee, a hand clasped around your arm, breaking you out of your frozen state of observation, and you were pushed down. You slid to your knees, the marble hard under your kneecaps as you cried out more in fear than pain. The man pulled a gun from the belt at his waist and pointed it at you and your life flashed before your eyes, your lungs completely deflating, unable to pull in even an ounce of breath in a sensation of petrified fright you’d never felt before. A sound somewhere between a wail and a whimper left you. 

“Stop or else she gets it,” the man shouted. 

You blinked your eyes, trying to get them to focus, and found Steve, splattered in blood, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the man above you with a sort of menace that had cold shivers running down your sides, sending your instincts into a frenzy. There was death in those eyes. Stone cold, calculated, immovable death. 

The man with the broken knee staggered behind Steve, pulling out a sharp knife that glinted in the dim moonlight pouring in from the windows above the main doors behind you. Your eyes followed the movement, but then struggled to keep up as Steve turned, grabbed the man’s hand and turned it upwards to jab the knife into his own throat. You jolted at the impact, the gurgled gasp the man gave through the mask. Then, Steve moved quicker than humanly possible, and when you next registered his position, he had the man above you by the throat. 

The gun pointed at your head skidded across the floor away from you, and when you looked up, you were first met with the gnarled angles of the fingers on the hand the man had held the gun with. Then, as you raised your eyes, heart in your throat, you saw Steve wrench the knife out of the throat of the man. 

Hot blood jetted out of him and you felt it rain across your face and body in warm, soft splatters. Petrified, mind glossing over in terror, you couldn’t move an inch as Steve, eyes wide with a sort of feral, inhuman fury you’d never seen before, punched his hand into the open gash in the man’s throat, and with a roar, tore his head clean his shoulders with his bare hands. A shrill shriek tore itself from your throat.

A wave of blood spouted from where the man’s head had been and drenched over you, covering your hair, your face and running down between the open flaps of your robe to cover your naked form. You barely managed to close your eyes in time, but your mouth and nose were filled with the unmistakable, overwhelming taste and aroma of warm iron. 

Your mind stopped working then, shutting down completely in order not to take in more of the slaughter around you. Time slowed to the sluggish beats of your heart, and Steve’s voice was a far away thing as he called your name. He picked you up and carried you somewhere, but your mind couldn’t decipher where, your body numb and far away from you. Darkness closed around you. Your hands were cold. 

You didn’t realize Steve had locked you in the cupboard under the stairs before he wrenched it open some indiscernible time later and carefully picked you up and carried you up the stairs. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I needed to check if there were any more of them,” he murmured into your head as he carried you into the bathroom and sat you down on the edge of the bathtub before starting the water. 

“You hid me in the cupboard?” you heard yourself asking, though you couldn’t remember telling your mouth to move. 

“Yes.” 

“I tried hiding in the coat closet earlier,” you said, and your voice was a hoarse, timid thing, barely perceptible to yourself. 

Steve appeared before you, eyes gentle as he cupped your face in a hand. 

“You did? Well done, that was a clever thing to do, even though I told you to stay put,” he said. 

“They came in through the window,” you said. 

“I saw. We’ll put you in your own room tonight. But first we need to clean you. Can you stand for me?” he asked, so gentle compared to the brutal, animalistic way he’d dealt with the strangers, how he’d pulled…pulled the head…

You couldn’t finish that thought, only nodded as Steve helped you onto unsteady feet, peeled your soiled robe off you and guided the both of you into the shower. The blood washed off you, coloring the water a faint rusty hue before it whirled down the drain. 

After, Steve lowered you into the bathtub, gently scrubbing your shoulders with a loofa. He didn’t get into it himself and you realized first later that he was probably on alert in case anyone else showed up. No one did, the night was eerily quiet again. 

When Steve had you dressed in a silky nightgown and put you to bed in your old bedroom, the sheets cool and soothing on your skin, you found your voice again. 

“The baby is okay,” you whispered, cradling your belly in your hands again. 

Steve stroked your hair and smiled gently at you. 

“I know. You told me earlier.”

“I did?” You couldn’t remember having said anything about the baby, though your belly felt completely normal, settled and calm, a sturdy weight on your front compared to the way the rest of your body seemed like frayed fringes of nerves and flesh flapping on an invisible wind. 

“Yes, right after. You probably don’t remember since you’re in shock right now,” he said, before sitting down on the floor next to the bed and grasping your hand in his. “I promise I will never let anybody come that close to hurting you again. I’m gonna hunt down anybody that even tries, and gut them. No one will hurt you. Ever. Not as long as I’m around,” he vowed, and the way his eyes shone with a feral intent, so intense you nearly broke away from the eye contact, told you he wasn’t kidding.

Dark unconsciousness took you without contemplation, sucking down your frail mind and numb body to sleep. When you awoke, Steve was sitting on the bed, fully clad. The bright light of the sun in the room told you it was day, and when your mind came to completely, you heard the milling of voices all throughout the house. You jolted instinctively, but Steve’s hand on your shoulder halted you from bolting from the bed. 

“No, sweets, it’s okay. They’re friends, colleagues, here to investigate,” Steve said calmly, and your hand came up to cling to him as you tried to steady your rapidly beating heart. “We’re moving. To a safer place,” Steve explained further, and then movement by the door caught your eye. 

A man, as tall as Steve and as bulky if not more so, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a faint stubble on his chin, stepped into the room. He smiled politely at you and inclined his head at Steve. His eyes were blue, soft and kind as they looked back at you. 

“Y/N, this is my friend Bucky,” Steve said gently, “he’s gonna be helping us out.”

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

so important for every character to be an idiot, but each in their own unique beautiful way

[hinamie]

inflict