#pre endgame

[hamsterdads]

what do you want?

[softdefault]

saw this alignment chart. possessed to make this for obvious reasons. my apologies.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Steve (and friends) + text posts pt. 8/?

[arovalentines]

but my heart is like a claw machine

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party. 

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish. 

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child. 

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held. 

But never once had you felt comfortable. 

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are. 

But they weren’t. 

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain. 

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years. 

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape. 

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink. 

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story. 

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that. 

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster. 

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it. 

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door. 

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him. 

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none. 

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it. 

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little. 

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows. 

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you. 

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored. 

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas. 

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it. 

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?” 

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document. 

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes. 

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was. 

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.” 

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.” 

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening. 

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years. 

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same. 

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words. 

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back. 

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner. 

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home. 

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days. 

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them. 

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table. 

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath. 

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos. 

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone. 

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen. 

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with. 

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer. 

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one. 

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean. 

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky. 

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded. 

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology. 

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve. 

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero. 

A comic book hero that existed in real life. 

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room. 

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others. 

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside. 

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets. 

A kid, no older than six. 

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby. 

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up. 

And Sophie called out. 

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes. 

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened. 

Then a knock came to your door. 

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers. 

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look. 

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?” 

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. 

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else. 

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it. 

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters. 

And you wrote them back. 

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch. 

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky. 

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve. 

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled. 

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made. 

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him. 

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him. 

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through. 

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team. 

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve. 

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others. 

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first. 

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded. 

And that was just the start of it. 

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun. 

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it. 

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt. 

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all. 

But not on you. 

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too. 

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you. 

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did. 

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar. 

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game. 

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you. 

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them. 

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice. 

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided. 

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes. 

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory. 

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud. 

“Still think I’m cheating?” 

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you. 

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party. 

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver. 

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders. 

It smelt of him. 

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.” 

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was. 

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor. 

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap. 

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so. 

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck. 

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer. 

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it. 

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor. 

He looked panic stricken. 

But Steve stood back and held his hands up. 

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve. 

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha. 

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious. 

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years. 

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago. 

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room. 

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting. 

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone. 

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you. 

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass. 

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield. 

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you. 

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each. 

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room. 

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered. 

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later. 

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties. 

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love. 

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him. 

Even if it never happened. 

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you. 

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him. 

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.” 

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point. 

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news. 

Bucky had been spotted. 

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies. 

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love. 

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him. 

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead. 

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time. 

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again. 

And now he had to say goodbye, again. 

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

 A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him. 

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church. 

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos. 

But then the time came to leave. 

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit. 

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates. 

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway. 

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you. 

He kissed you. 

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain. 

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away. 

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time. 

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart. 

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye. 

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that. 

A bench. 

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures. 

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together. 

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters. 

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been. 

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice. 

Then the headlines started to roll in. 

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility. 

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions. 

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s. 

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date. 

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner. 

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve. 

None of them could beat Steve. 

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening. 

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live. 

Someplace…simple. 

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up. 

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life. 

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive. 

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance. 

They were tall, broad and had a beard. 

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. 

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve. 

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses. 

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again. 

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist. 

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying. 

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing. 

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together. 

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg. 

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others. 

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window. 

You’d never left his thoughts. 

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions. 

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you. 

So he left. 

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you. 

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there. 

You weren’t with him. 

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him. 

And he had no way of talking to you. 

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill. 

“What are you doing?” You smiled. 

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance. 

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded. 

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing. 

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep. 

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you. 

For years, he’d dreamed of it. 

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning. 

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle. 

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed. 

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile. 

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm. 

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you. 

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer. 

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking. 

From above, there was deep rumbling. 

“You better go,” you told Steve. 

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye. 

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door. 

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him. 

But he couldn’t stay any longer. 

People needed him. 

The world needed him. 

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared. 

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call. 

Only, you never answered. 

“Go.” Natasha told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time. 

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door. 

It was unlocked. 

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck. 

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours. 

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute. 

You weren’t here. 

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain. 

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell. 

But it was too late. 

You were gone. 

Just like half of the world, you were gone. 

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself. 

You were gone. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. 

His entire body stilled. 

Slowly turning around he found…

No one. 

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. 

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together. 

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself. 

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off. 

Then someone started to hum. 

You started to hum. 

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him. 

Then you turned around. 

He scared the shit out of you. 

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain. 

Just as it did, you recognised him. 

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground. 

“You’re alive,” you breathed. 

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.” 

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten. 

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left. 

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug. 

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him. 

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door. 

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone. 

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together. 

Properly. 

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone. 

What you were left with was…acceptance. 

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen. 

You both had a chance at a life together. 

So you both took it. 

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal. 

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour. 

And eventually things…settled. 

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix. 

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself. 

And Natasha was your first call. 

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom. 

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-”

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so. 

And then some more. 

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was. 

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back. 

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show. 

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child. 

Natasha looked at her phone. 

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test. 

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three. 

After one, you turned it over. 

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started. 

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you. 

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps. 

However, halfway around the building, you stopped. 

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp. 

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles. 

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall. 

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way. 

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered. 

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed. 

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you. 

And for almost four years, it was blissful. 

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years. 

Then one night, everything changed. 

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake. 

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her. 

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter. 

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past. 

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes. 

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.” 

She was awe-struck. 

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed. 

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change. 

Time Travel. 

There was a chance everyone could be brought back. 

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do. 

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it. 

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on. 

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was. 

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone. 

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back. 

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you. 

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did. 

People needed their families back. 

And that’s what they got. 

At the cost of Tony’s life. 

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor. 

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness. 

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter. 

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home. 

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes. 

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her. 

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind. 

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear. 

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned. 

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you. 

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side. 

Aurora gasped and bolted forward. 

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.  

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam. 

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek. 

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled. 

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it. 

[imposterogers]

one thing endgame did accomplish is ending a lot of our relationships with the mcu so like. true to its name at least

[shamefulzombie]

Just now showing my v rising dears

[wheneverfeasible]

wc: 2.3k || rating: T || cw: none || summary: Jim Hopper and Will Byers have a bonding moment post-S4. pre-Byler || now on ao3

Jim wouldn’t say that it wasn’t an adjustment. Of course it was.

It had been easier with Eleven because, though it had been years, he’d once been a dad to a little girl before too. Not that El was anything like Sarah had been, and Jim had made absolute fucking certain El knew that she was not in any way a replacement for Sarah, but she was still a little girl. Or had been, at least.

Still was in a lot of ways, but she was growing up. Still needed her dad though, that much had become certain from the moment they reunited. He was just happy that Joyce had been there for her, had all but already been her mom even before he and Joyce finally became a thing.

And they did become a Thing. It took some doing with having to come back from the dead, with the Byers moving back to Hawkins, and with figuring themselves all out as they settled into this new normal. El had become a part of the Byers family, and sure Jim had his and El’s cabin, but it wasn’t really fit for so many people. So, with a little assistance from the US Government who owed them for an entire lifetime of pain and terror, they bought a new house.

Jim remembered when he used to live in a trailer by the lake, and here he was now living in a sprawling goddamn near-mansion in Loch Nora, not too far down from the Harrington residence actually. It was a gorgeous two-story, five bedroom, three and a half bathroom house with its own pool, and plenty of space for all the kids when they inevitably came to visit. It was…a lot, sometimes. More than Jim was used to, but he never regretted what it meant to be with Joyce.

Even if it was an adjustment.

Jim had, quite quickly, gone from being a single parent with one daughter to a stepfather of sorts to two boys, one of them already grown. He could tell that it was an adjustment to the boys as well, whose last experience with a male figure was Bob Newby who hadn’t been more than just their mom’s boyfriend.

And sure, it wasn’t like he and Joyce were married or anything. They were still getting used to the idea of simply being together themselves, but there was years of history between them, even before all this shit with the Upside Down. What’s more, Jim couldn’t take El away from the family she made with the Byers, so it only made sense to move in together. Make up for lost time.

He could tell it was awkward for the boys as much as it was for him, though Jonathan and him had reached some kind of understanding and bonding due to the boy’s age and the fact that they’d sneak off away from Joyce to smoke pot together occasionally. It was different with Will, however.

Jim could tell he was…maybe wary wasn’t quite the right word, but it was close enough. Jim knew he wasn’t the kind of softness that Bob had been, knew that Russia had changed him further, sharpening bits of himself and hardening others. He was learning to move past that though, surprisingly enough with Steve Harrington of all people and that Robin Buckley girl. They’d talked about it, finally having someone else who understood, and it…it helped.

Living so close to the Harringtons, Steve started coming around a lot more often, helping Joyce out with the kids, or shooting the shit with Hopper. Sometimes Robin joined him, sometimes not. He made certain the girl knew she was always welcome, however, with or without Steve, after she had confessed that she felt like she didn’t deserve to be part of the discussion because the Russians never hit her. He made damn certain she knew that there was more than just one type of torture.

So yeah, Jim was doing better, settling back into his normal (or as normal as it got) life, taking up work as a private investigator, though Cal had offered him his job as chief back. Jim didn’t want it anymore, however, and with the tidy sum of money the government gave to the Hopper-Byers family, he wasn’t in desperate need of money as he worked out his new occupation. He had agreed to help out, unofficially, when needed, however.

It left him time to get used to his new family dynamic, however. To be there for El, Joyce, and the boys, though Jonathan seemed to finally start relaxing again now that the Vecna creep was well and truly gone.

But still Will was hesitant with him, not quite timid but watchful. Especially when Mike was over. Jim always had to suppress a sigh at that. He had thought that he was in the clear once El and the twerp broke up, but no such luck apparently.

And Jim knew. He recalled Joyce’s words, knew what that asshole Lonnie had called the boy, and before it might have been explained away from the kid just being a gentle soul when he was younger, but there was no denying the way that Will looked at Mike. Worse, the way Mike looked at Will. He wanted to grumble, put off by the disrespect shown towards El even though she had been the one to break things off, but El had assured him that she was fine.

Jim knew how he looked. He was large, and while he was no longer portly, he was solid. He kept up with his exercise, even took to jogging in the morning with Steve and Lucas, and made good use of his new pool when it was warm enough to do so. Sometimes even when it wasn’t. He knew he was intimidating. He knew that to a young gay kid whose own father had spouted hate, it had to be scary.

He also didn’t want to out the poor kid, however. Right now it was technically only conjecture. Just an idea. He wasn’t trying to be the kid’s dad. He knew he couldn’t force himself into that position. The kid was grown enough to not need him to, after all.

But…he wanted Jonathan and Will both to know that he was there for them, whenever and whatever they needed. Jim had no problem with alternative lifestyles. As long as his kids were safe and happy, that was all that mattered.

So Jim tried to soften himself some, joked and teased Will like he did with El, made it obvious that he was in it until the end, that whether or not he and Joyce ever got married, they were his in whatever capacity they let him have them. And slowly, ever so slowly, Will began opening up to him.

It started with his artwork. He’d painted a portrait of the family, all five of them, as a Mother’s Day present for Joyce. He showed Jim first, asking his opinion and obviously nervous about it, but Jim could only praise the work with genuine compliments. He even joking said he might just have to pay Will to do a portrait for his office like those fancy muckity mucks.

Will then surprised him, on Father’s Day, with a portrait of his own. Jim was not ashamed to say that it brought tears to his eyes, and he promptly hung it up in a place of honor.

From then on, things got a little more comfortable, and Will even joined him and the others on their morning jogs sometimes, or some of the other exercises Jim partook in. Slowly Will even started filling out, and he could tell it helped the boy’s confidence some, though he also noticed it made Mike stare more too.

Jim wasn’t stupid. Though there had been a period of time where he didn’t give a shit, where he drank his life away through heartbreak and barely existed, he had still been a cop. And a damn good one once he got a scent. He could piece together clues and figure things out and see what others didn’t want you to see.

It was why, one summer afternoon while Will was sprawled on chair beside him by the pool, watching fucking Mike bellyflop after a failed jump that may or may not have been caused by El, with the puppiest of lovesick eyes that Jim had finally had enough. He sighed heavily, causing Will to glance at him, and he shook his head at the lost cause.

“Really, kid? Wheeler?” he lightly complained. He didn’t look at Will, but he could see him freeze in his peripheral vision, could feel the fear wafting off of him. Jim didn’t react to it, just took a sip of his beer before letting out another sigh. “I guess I am destined to have Wheeler as a fu—freaking in-law. But truly, kid,” he said, and finally looked at Will and ignored his wide eyes to lightly clap a hand on his knee. “You could do so much better.”

Will flinched, ever so slightly, at Jim’s hand moving towards him, and he seemed to be holding his breath, but Jim didn’t let it hurt him. Too much. It was understandable why he’d think someone like Jim, a former cop, might have some hidden prejudices. So he just squeezed Will’s knee before releasing it and settling back into his chair.

But Will just continued staring at him, blinking slowly, before his face slowly went from deathly pale to flushed pink. “I—” he started to squeak out, before clearing his throat and beginning to fidget with his own can of pop. He looked down, hunching his shoulders, before glancing back over at Jim. “I’m…he doesn’t…it’s not…”

“Will,” Jim said, fixing the boy with a look that caused him to snap his jaw shut. “What part of our family is normal?” His raised his brows and spread out a hand to indicate the pool and yard full of their massive found family, something even Jim hadn’t thought possible. “Your sister can literally kill people with her mind,” he dryly pointed out.

That caused Will to snort, a hesitant smile curling his lips. “That’s…fair,” he allowed carefully.

“Your paramour’s sister is probably a better shot than I am,” Jim continued without any ill will towards that. It was mostly the truth. “I’m somewhat friends with a Russian former prison guard. And there’s…” His eyes closed as though it was painful to admit. “Murray.”

Will let out a real laugh at that, before he looked away with an embarrassed look. “He’s not my…paramour,” he said, rolling his eyes at the last word.

“But you want him to be.” It wasn’t a question. Will looked up at Jim again, and though there was still that sense of wariness, Jim could see a small spark of hope in his eyes.

“That doesn’t…gross you out?”

“Oh it definitely grosses me out,” Jim said easily, but continued on before Will could become upset. “But just because it’s Mike. It grossed me out when El liked him too.” Will covered his mouth when a startled laugh left him, causing Jim to grin.

He glanced over at Joyce when he felt her eyes on him, and he gave her a small wink and nod. Her eyes moved towards Will, seeing his shocked and cautiously happy expression, and understanding dawned on her own face. She smiled at him, and even from here he could see her eyes shine with unshed tears before she turned back to her conversation with Robin and Steve.

Turning back to Will, Jim tried to offer an easy, open smile. By the way Will’s shoulders untensed, he thought he had to have succeeded at least a little bit. “You know more than just about anyone how short and precarious life can be. Why waste it judging someone for who they love, the way they were born? Just as pointless as judging them for the color of their skin.”

Jim indicated across the way with his beer can where Erica was sassing Lucas and Dustin about something. “You don’t judge the Sinclairs, do you?”

“Of course not,” Will rushed to say with a small frown. “They’re some of my best friends.”

“And you’re my…” Jim hesitated. He didn’t want to overstep, but…there was no denying he loved Joyce. For him, she was it, and that meant her kids were too. Just as his was hers. Whether or not he and Joyce ever got married, these were his kids now.

Jim looked at Will, who was looking back at him with that wary hopefulness again. He forced himself to expose some vulnerability, letting out a soft sigh as he moved to ruffle the boy’s hair who was probably a little too old to have his hair ruffled.

“And you’re my kid,” he finished, his voice a little gruff, though he’d deny it was from emotion. Or that said emotion bubbled up inside him again at the wide smile Will gave him. He cleared his throat, turning his gaze towards Mike and swallowing down another grimace. Christ.

“You like who you like. Anyone who causes you grief about that can come talk to me.” He let his gaze sweep over the party, taking in Joyce, Jonathan, Steve, El, even Mike, and all the others too. “And trust me. There’s gonna be a whole line behind me.”

Will flushed a little, chewing his bottom lip as he followed Jim’s line of sight. He hesitated, seemed to be bracing himself, and drew in a deep breath. “I’m gay,” he softly said, and the words sounded heavy on his tongue for how light he suddenly seemed after staring those two words that were anything but small or simple in a town like Hawkins.

“I know, son,” Jim murmured, and he leaned back in his chair as Will did the same, a relieved smile lighting the young man’s face as he relaxed fully and completely next to Jim for the first time. “I know.”

-

tagged: @derythcorvinus

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game: A Damian who never got the sex talk or a consent talk from Bruce (both bc he assumed that Dick, son-wife extraordinaire, would take care of that and bc he thought that Damian would be ace or celibate or something) and so in his teens after only learning about sex from the internet he just becomes like, wildly inappropriate about his crushes, including unfortunately his older siblings, especially Dick, Tim and Cass

This includes not just the bat-typical stalking online and irl, but also making comments on their bodies, flirting excessively, and one notable time, masturbating in the living room of Dick’s apartment

Everyone is torn on how to address it, if they should be saying anything at all, I mean, he’s just going through puberty, it’s just a phase right?

for the ask game!

i LOVE it when Damian has like. zero concept of how relationships work and no one thinks to talk to him about it, leading to wildly inappropriate behavior. it's my fave flavor for any Damian ship.

obviously, his first crush is Dick. and because Damian has had such little interaction with healthy romantic relationships, he doesn't even *realize* that's what he's feeling. in concept, he understands sex. but he has a very clinical definition of it, viewing it as coupling to produce an heir. (100% influenced by Ra's) so sex as a pleasurable thing, as something driven by romantic interest, that's foreign to him. he refuses to show weakness and he needs to be hyper-independent, so he falls down a google rabbit hole. i love the idea of Damian accidentally stumbling into like, forums and subreddits based on what he googles that are for people with incestual fantasies and it ends up giving him the WILDLY wrong idea about what's normal. he makes his own account and becomes mildly chronically online about it. at first, it's just a safe outlet for him to vent about his feelings. bc deep down Damian *does* know this is a little wrong and weird, he knows Dick doesn't exactly reciprocate and he understands there's a difference between familial and romantic love. but the more Damian is reading other stories online, the bolder he gets. and he starts getting more open about his attraction.

not only does he get more open about it, but his attraction spreads to Cass and Tim. for Cass, it makes sense. they grew up similarly, if anyone understands the guilt of being raised to be an assassin and now trying to atone for it, it's her. Damian respects her raw ability and naturally it turns into a crush. for Tim, it's harder to explain. he hates Tim with his whole being, doesn't see Tim as his brother. it starts as sexual attraction first, with Tim. for Dick and Cass it was romantic first, but not Tim. watching Tim train shirtless, Damian almost hits himself in the face with the workout equipment he's using. since he's never considered Tim a brother, he's never considered Tim seriously when he's thinking about incestual feelings. it startles him to be attracted to Tim too. honestly? fun concept that Damian gets so in his head with an incest kink that he finally accepts Tim as a brother to him because he's attracted to Tim, therefore this must mean that some part of Damian views him as a brother because Damian has just. entangled those feelings internally.

it's when Damian is attracted to them as well, that they all start to notice. Cass notices first, and she asks Tim about it, since she can tell Damian's feelings are toward Tim and Dick as well. they have a conversation about it and ultimately decide they can't change Damian's feelings, and they don't want to embarrass him about it because he's young and going through puberty. Tim had his own childhood crush on Dick, it happens, he really gets it. they loop Dick in, who is absolutely thrown by the concept. for a while Dick doesn't believe them. he's convinced they're reading into things. until Damian starts getting more bold. going from openly staring that could be interpreted a lot fo ways to excess compliments and flirting. Dick's used to comments about his body, they slide off easily. but when Damian very loudly makes a comment about Tim or Cass' body, Dick balks. he tries to. carefully tell Damian that there are boundaries to certain relationships and he needs to be more respectful. Damian doesn't take it seriously because Dick won't address it head-on and is dancing around the topic. Damian either doesn't think Dick is serious, or he thinks Dick doesn't understand the depth of his emotion outside of sexual desire. so he starts trying to be more romantic. flirting, gifts and gestures. it's very sweet and almost childlike, how hard Damian is trying. Cass thinks it's cute and doesn't mind it. Dick is trying carefully to let Damian down gently. and Tim is just baffled, not really sure what to do with the *very* nice new bo staff Damian got him that's reinforced and admittedly, very well balanced.

Damian gets bolder. his touch lingers, his comments get more sexual. and of course, the breaking point: he jerks off in Dick's living room. he does it when Dick is busy in another room, taking a shower. Dick comes in just as Damian reaches completion, gripping one of the throw pillows on Dick's couch. Dick leaves the room, pretends he didn't see anything and gives Damian the chance to clean himself up. but when he comes in the room, they both know that Dick knows. Dick decides he has to be more firm with his boundaries. he sits down and tells Damian it's okay to have a crush, but this is not okay. Dick repeatedly calls it "puberty" and a "phase", and Damian gets more caught up on Dick denying the realness of his feelings than the rejection. he doubles down, because he perceives the issue as Dick just not understanding how real Damian's feelings are. this isn't some silly teenage phase to Damian, he knows his feelings. obviously, the issue must be that Dick, Tim, and Cass don't understand that. so he does his best to act more like an adult. he's far more reasonable on patrol, he doesn't pick fights, he's independent. all the issues Dick has been having with training Damian suddenly vanish and well. Dick knows why, but he has to admit, it is far easier to work with Damian like this. at this point, Tim just finds the whole thing funny. Cass doesn't enjoy the sexualized comments about her body, she's always been hyperaware of how others will oversexualize her, but she still sees Damian as a young kid and doesn't lash out at him over it. she's dealt with far worse, and she doesn't want to make him feel bad about a crush.

if i were writing this, i think it'd be fun if Damian's feels do eventually fade. he stops going online so much and he gets other things to focus on trying to be a good vigilante and soon his efforts aren't about his feelings, he's just genuinely focused on himself. he grows back and Dick, Tim, and Cass breathe a sigh of relief about it really just being some phase. that is, of course, until someone new joins the Batfam and the cycle starts again. maybe it's Duke, maybe it's someone else like Terry. but at the end of the day, Damian's incest kink wins out and maybe this time, he actually succeeds. he gets his new person of affection to reciprocate with all of the attention he gives them and Dick just has to watch from the background, facepalming. bc at the end of the day, Damian will always get what he wants, sooner or later.

[angelsdean]

it’s as if ppl have forgotten others will lie for money and attention lol like sorry but I don’t believe a word some random tour guide says (even if it’s confirming my ship!) esp when it’s literally just reiterating what we already have heard misha say about the pre-covid heaven reunion but with random added embellishments to act like there’s “new” info on top of what we already know. also idk why anyone is celebrating that ending, it’s still so shitty like dean only able to “accept” his sexuality once he’s DEAD in heaven ??? When he’s been bisexual on our screens openly flirting with men and doing dudes since the 90s??? Get out of here with that bullshit lmao

[heartsgettingwiser62]

10 y/o miwi starting to crush on each other + Lucas and Dustin. That must've been SO funny like-

Will absent-mindedly doodling Mike all over his notebook during class; Mike with the biggest, brightest heart eyes talking about the last drawing Will gave him like it was a Da Vinci; Will randomly zoning out of conversations bc he got distracted staring at Mike; Mike tripping on air while walking bc he was too busy focusing on telling Will a joke; Will always separating and saving Mike's favorite candy so he could give it to him; Mike whispering god-knows-what into Will's ear and Will trying to stifle his giggles for the next 10 minutes...

All of this while Lucas and Dustin look at each other like '??????'

[meg-noel-art]

Okay I have to get a single vent off my chest and then I promise I'll be quiet.

I need ya'll to please realize now (before backlash at Guerrilla gets hurled in three years) DLC characters/content do not become mainstay installments in the way you imagine.

DLC characters do not become main characters.

DLC plots can be removed from the main story and recited as exposition in a main entry.

It HAS to be removable, because not every consumer buys DLC. Whether for lack of resources, access, or principal.

I just really don't wanna see people griping that Guerrilla "dropped"... ahem, anything... in three years from now. Or that some kind of endgame was promised and then taken away.

We been knew, or we SHOULD know bc this is how DLCs have worked always forever.

Not to mention BS was even MORE exclusive by proxy of being literally exclusive to a console people STILL don't have easy access to.

Please everyone just be reasonable when the time comes, that's all I'm worried about.

[storfulsten]

Whitty And Bf Personality Swap? Lovely Art By The Way, Truly Inspiring. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

hm I guess k, not feeling the most creative but here lol

idk lol

mostly based on this bc idk thought the vibes looked fitting in theory lmao:

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Steve (and friends) + text posts pt. 12/?

[nerdylovetastemaker]

oat milk

"What all these people are doing is not  aggressive;  they are inventing new possibilities of pleasure  with strange parts of their body - through  the eroticization of the body."  

Steve was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Tommy working. The younger boy swirled the spoon around in the over-large bowl before tapping it against the rim and laying it on the counter. "You know it'll cool down a little once I get it in the bag, but is that good?" Tommy bent over next to the tub so Steve could slowly dip two fingers into the bowl, nodding once.

"It's fine."

Tommy nodded again, reaching out to stroke Steve's hair before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The hook was already hanging from the shower curtain so Tommy could hang the bag as soon as it was full. "Go ahead and take the plug out, baby." His voice was soft, gentle. "And start with your fingers."

It was the gentlest of their "darker" interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it's own, was degrading enough on it's own, Tommy didn't need to add anything to that.

Tommy felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other boy had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the boy set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Steve picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.

"You're so fucking hot like that, baby," Tommy purred, from the sink where the bag was nearly half full. "Now, go ahead."

Steve flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his waist, hipbone, the curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn't even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click from Tommy hanging the bag. "Already?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," the boy chided softly. "You can keep your fingers in for a second." He almost added a soft 'slut', but stopped himself. Tommy leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Steve for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the boy's neck. "Just think about everything I'll do after," he whispered before straightening back up and slicking lube across the tip of the nozzle and his own fingers. "Okay."

Steve whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn't empty for longer than a few seconds, Tommy's fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the nozzle. "Breathe," he murmured, fingers running down the boy's spine. "I'm going to now, okay?"

"Wait," Steve choked out.

"I'm going to now," Tommy repeated, voice a little harder this time. "You're fine." He kept his fingers running along the boy's spine as he loosened the clamp.

Steve bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm oat milk sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Tommy's fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Tommy's fingers would still be the same.

When they started, one of Steve's hands flew up to his stomach and Tommy stopped the flow without a word, letting the other boy massage his abdomen to ease the pain. "Just tell me."

"Okay," Steve whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Tommy loosed the clamp again and Steve felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of liquid he'd taken. "Stop," he choked out again. He wasn't supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He'd felt like he'd taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the bag. "Bren?" he asked, voice close to cracking. "I-I . . . Tommy." His voice was weak.

"You're doing great, baby." The boy leaned down, letting soft kisses feather along Steve's lower back. "So good."

The tears were starting to build up. Steve could feel them in his chest, waiting there, another ache in his body. "I don't . . . I . . ." He let his head fall forward, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus on Tommy's fingers instead of the liquid inside him. "Okay," he whispered,voice cracking as the first tears slid down his cheeks.

The flow continued and Tommy slowed the flow without a say so after five minutes or so. "You're taking it so well, Stevie," he cooed. "You've got half." He usually didn't tell Steve how much he'd taken, but it had been awhile since they'd done this and he didn't want the boy to break before he managed to get both quarts in.

"Half?" Steve asked, voice timid, as if he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disconcerted.

"Mhmmm." Tommy leaned forward, letting his lips kiss the back of Steve's neck, then between the boy's shoulder blades. "Are you ready for more?" When Steve hesitated, Tommy squeezed his hip. "You can take it, baby. You've done this before."

Steve's head nodded a fraction of an inch, his breathing already labored. He gave a small squeak as the oat milk started slipping into his body again. "Please, please, I can't." He shook his head, the tears coming out for real now. Tommy clamped the nozzle again. "I can't, Bren, please. I . . . I need to . . . please."

The younger boy reached his hand down to Steve's stomach, the curve of a belly that wasn't there usually. "I know you can take this," he said, voice low but not angry or disappointed. "I know you can, Stevie." He let their fingertips brush. "But I won't make you," he added. "It's up to you."

Steve hated that. It would have been so much easier to go along with it if Tommy hadn't give him the choice. Now it was up to him to decide if he wanted to be selfish and disappoint his boyfriend and not get rewarded or just go along with it and deal with the pain. "I'll try," he mumbled weakly, squeezing his eyes shit and biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt the flow again.

Tommy slipped his hand down Steve's stomach to wrap around his cock, gently stroking, trying to turn the whimpers that the older boy was now making into moans. "So good, baby," he kept whispering over and over. "You're taking it so good."

"H-Hurts," Steve choked out. "Break?"

Tommy locked the clamp again, letting Steve rub at his stomach and try to catch his breath. "It's almost all in," he said gently, still stroking the other boy's erection. "Just a little bit more. I know you can take it, Stevie."

"How much?"

The question hung heavy in the air for a moment. Steve wasn't supposed to ask and he knew it, but he also knew Tommy never spanked him or punished him during an enema, so the worst possibility was simply that the other boy wouldn't tell him.

"Probably four ounces," Tommy answered finally. "I'm going to start it again, okay? You can take this all in one go."

Steve nodded, gritting his teeth and counting silently in his head, hoping it wouldn't take longer than a minute to finish. He was only a few seconds over when the flow stop and Tommy planted a kiss to the small of Steve's back. "I'm going to switch it out for the plug, okay? Keep it in."

Steve tightened his muscles, his toes curling as he did so. It hurt, tensing up along with the dull ache in his abdomen. Even with all his tightening, a little bit of the oat milk/water mixture escaped, sliding down the inside of his thigh. Then the plug was in and he could relax his muscles, but only somewhat. Tommy picked up a washcloth and wiped at the liquid that had slid down Steve's skin.

It wouldn't be too long, Steve knew, but it always seemed an eternity. Five minutes or ten minutes could feel like hours. Tommy's fingers slid up Steve's back until they were twisted, gently, in his hair. "I can't wait to get you on the bed," he said thickly, voice low and gravely. "Gonna shove my tongue in you so deep, baby."

Steve moaned outright, despite the dull pain in his muscles and stomach. It was a low moan, soft, but a moan nonetheless, and Tommy smiled at the sound. "Is that what you want?" the younger boy continued in the same tone. "You want my tongue in you, want me fucking your ass with my mouth? You're going to taste so fucking good, baby." His fingers tightened slightly in Steve's hair. Not enough to cause any pain, just enough to make the boy gasp, then moan again. "Then I'll fuck you. So hard, baby, so God damn hard. So deep inside you. And then you'll take my come in your pretty mouth."

Steve was whimpering, his hips moving ever so slightly, squirming. "P-Please?" he choked out. "Please?" He was begging for release. He knew it hadn't been long enough, but if Tommy kept it up, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in.

"I think you can hold it for another couple of minutes." But Tommy let go of Steve's hair and sat back slightly, just letting his hands run slowly up the boy's sides. The older boy was quiet, just a few whimpers leaving his mouth, but still squirming. Tommy let his hands slip lower until he was firmly squeezing Steve's ass in both hands. "Almost, baby. Almost."

There was another minute or so, Tommy's fingers skimming over the curve of Steve's cheeks and the older boy trying not to lose anything, trying to keep his muscles tensed just enough. "Okay." Tommy stood up, slowly, kissing Steve on the back of the neck before stepping out of the tub. "Slowly," he warned the boy. "Don't lose anything, okay?" He held his hands out, letting Steve take them as he stood and gingerly climbed out of the tub.

Tommy lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and helped Steve to sit. This was always when Steve started to cry again. He hated it, hated how Tommy was there for the release. So humiliating, worse than threats of letting Spencer watch or having Pete fuck him that one time while Tommy took Polaroids. "Please, just . . . I can," Steve said. "I'm fine. I can."

Tommy looked stern, frowning, shaking his head slightly. "Stop."

Steve cried harder, bringing his hands up to push at Tommy when the boy moved closer, but too submissive to actually to do it as the boy reached between his legs, fingers closing around the end of the plug. "Please," Steve whispered again. "Please, Bren."

The boy ignored him. "Don't let it go until I tell you to." He let Steve's face fall into his shoulder. The boy was shaking from his choked sobs as Tommy slowly pulled the plug out. He set it on the counter next to the bowl he had mixed the oat milk and water in. One arm came up around Steve. Despite his tears, the boy was still clenching, tighter than probably necessary. "Okay, go ahead."

Steve shook his head. "No." He cried harder when Tommy pressed his lips against the boy's temple. "Please."

"Steve. Now."

The boy was still crying, clinging desperately to Tommy as the first drops of the mixture began to slip out. And then, like always, he realized he really had no choice and just let go, sobbing harder as he heard the liquid falling into the toilet. For Tommy's part, he just held the boy, fingers running down his back, cooing soft sentiments to him. "Good boy, good job, Stevie."

Finally the noises slowed and Tommy took a step back, letting Steve wipe and flush the toilet. They both washed their hands in the sink and Steve blew his nose. "I'm sorry," he whispered, refusing to look at Tommy. "I . . . I didn't mean to . . . I know you won't hurt me."

Tommy's cool fingers, still slightly wet from the water, slid under Steve's chin, tilting the boy's face up to meet his eyes. "Thank you," he returned, leaning in and kissing him, soft at first, then harder, tongue slipping in. "Bed now," he added, unable to contain his smile as he felt Steve's lips curve upward against his.

They walked out to the hotel bedroom area and Tommy nodded silently, indicating Steve should assume the position on the bed. "Back or . . . or knees?"

"Knees if they're not too sore."

Steve would take a lot more than sore knees for a rimjob, as he'd clearly demonstrated, so Tommy nodded his approval as the boy got on all fours on the bed. Steve kept his head facing forward, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder and watch Tommy. The younger boy loved that, how he didn't have to order the boy do it. Steve obeyed the unspoken command of his own accord.

The bed sunk down as Tommy knelt behind Steve, hands squeezing the boy's hips. Tommy leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's entrance, smiling when he heard the moan. His mouth opened, tongue slipping out, licking in broad, even strokes, knowing it would do nothing but tease Steve, torturing him. And, truthfully, it was all Steve could do to keep from pressing his ass back on Tommy's face while begging 'more more more'.

Tommy sat up and leaned forward, pressing two fingers to Steve's lips. The boy sucked them into his mouth without a word, his tongue sliding around the digits, trying not to get overeager, trying not to just beg Tommy to fuck him and start grinding his hips into the bed. When Tommy pulled his fingers from the boy's mouth, he leaned in for the kiss, smiling as he swallowed the moan from the intrusion of his fingers entering Steve's hole while they were still kissing.

Then his mouth was gone and Steve's fingers twisted in the bed sheets knowing what was coming, the muscles in his body tensing in anticipation. Tommy's fingers pulled slowly, evenly, opening Steve up just enough to slip his tongue in, licking around the edge of Steve's entrance. He licked over his own fingers as he slowly added another digit from each hand, pulling Steve more open, exposing him more. His tongue slipped in deeper and Steve tried so hard not to push his ass back on Tommy's face.

The younger boy's tongue started dipping in and out, slow and first, then quicker. Steve was moaning, head thrown back, hips barely rocking. Tommy pulled his tongue out and his fingers, letting his lips press against the hole that was still open to the air. He began to suck and Steve let out a stream of expletives that Tommy had never heard before. He let up on the pressure, his tongue slipping back inside once more, teasing, pulling out to trace around the inside.

"Fuck me?" Steve asked, voice high-pitched and uncertain.

Tommy pulled off almost immediately, but didn't straighten up yet, pressing two fingers into Steve abruptly, smirking at the boy's gasp. He slowly twisted them. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked as if he hadn't heard, voice casual.

"Please, Tommy," the older boy returned desperately, pressing back against the fingers, his head falling into the pillows as he collapsed on his arms, support following to his elbows.

The fingers slipped out and Tommy helped turned Steve to his back, kissing him softly on the mouth, enjoying Steve's tongue probing his mouth curiously, searching for the taste. He pulled away after a moment and the older boy gave an airy sort of sigh. Then he was between Steve's legs, bending them at the knee and separating them, settling between the thighs before he pushed in, no lubricant and no warning.

Steve made a low noise in the back of his throat at the burn, the stretch. He'd been waiting for this. Tommy hadn't fucked him for a week, not properly. Toys and fingers and a fist, but not this. So simple, just them. Nothing artificial. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck, leaning up to kiss his neck. They looked like any other couple just then, he mused. No one would have been able to look at this scene and guess that Steve had just been given a two quart enema or that the other day he'd been made to stand in the corner for an hour after Tommy had spanked him fifty times with a hairbrush.

Tommy could tell Steve was thinking and he angled his hips, shoving in roughly. When Steve's eyes popped open even wider and he let out the tiny squeak, he knew he'd found the spot. All semblance of thought seemed to evaporate from Steve's features as he just gave in and starting rocking against Tommy's hips, moaning. He reached for his boyfriend's hand, pressing the palm against his throat. "Please," he whispered.

Tommy didn't need to be told twice, squeezing down on Steve's neck, releasing after a moment to let him gasp for breath. Then his hand tightened again and they repeated the pattern until his boyfriend started shaking his head, not wanting to use the safe word, but wanting Tommy to know he'd had enough. His hand fisted in Steve's hair then, squeezing tight enough to hurt, but not hard enough to pull the hair out. "Touch yourself," Tommy breathed.

Steve obeyed immediately, one of his hands falling from Tommy's neck to slip between them, wrapping around the base of his cock, stroking in a slow rhythm that contrasted with the thrusts. He didn't want to come yet, but he knew he didn't have a choice anyway. He'd come when Tommy told him. That was the rule.

"Faster," Tommy growled, shifting his weight so he could press in deeper. "I want you close, Stevie. Tell me when you're close."

The boy nodded, quickening the speed of wrist obediently, letting his eyes shut for a moment before he opened them back up. Tommy liked to watch him, said he could see Steve melt through his eyes when they were in bed. He felt the hand tighten in his hair slightly and he stopped moving. "Close," he choked out.

Tommy smiled, letting Steve wonder if he was going to have to hold it, have to wait, have to worry if he could. But it was late and they had to be up in six hours. "When you feel me come, you can," he said, nipping Steve's bottom lip between his teeth. The thrusts got impossibly harder after that, but only for a moment.

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he felt himself explode and then Steve's wrist was flying as he moaned, low and whorish. Tommy could feel Steve's come hit his stomach as the older boy started swearing, his ass clenching down on Tommy's cock as his orgasm tore through him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air.

Steve collapsed prematurely, still feeling his orgasm rocking through him, but unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then he felt Tommy pull out, leaving him empty and loose. He whimpered at the loss, turning and pressing his face into the boy's chest as he laid down beside Steve in the bed.

Tommy's arms came up, feeling Steve's body trembling. "Baby, baby," he murmured. "Shhh. It's all right." He kissed the boy's temple, fingertips gently massaging feeling back into Steve's muscles. "We're going to sleep now, okay? Early morning."

Steve whimpered, nodding, wondering if he'd be able to walk properly the next day. "Brenny?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ry." Tommy waited until he'd stopped shaking before he got up to turn out the lights and set the alarm on his phone. Then he crawled back into bed and held Stuntil he fall asleep before he got up to clean the bathroom and put the equipment back in their suitcase. He was only going to be running on two hours of sleep the next day, but it had been worth it.

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[stelstellakidd]

HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE ⇄ DAY FIVE. SOCIAL MEDIA

—» in which tj barton has one account for his daily teenage activities and another for his ranger persona that his dad should definitely never see.