#this post brought to you by holy shit it snowed yesterday and my PTSD didn’t flare at all!

[voiceshearingyouloud]

EMDR is witchcraft for real. What do you mean listening to binaural badminton volleys makes my brain process trauma?

[abreathofthewild]

And They Were Roommates, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After the events of Endgame, the Avengers try to regain a semblance of normalcy.  Steve Rogers decides to move to a small town, get a regular job and a regular room mate...

Word Count: 1832

Warnings: mentions of death.  some language.  some hanky panky (MILD exhibitionism?!??!).  Like neck kissing, hip straddling.  But not between Steve and reader...  yet.  Eventual warnings for possible PTSD and traumatic flashbacks.  Smut.  Oh boy I can’t believe I just wrote that this is going to be a wonderful journal.

Notes: Holy cow I’m actually posting this.  This is my first time posting a fic so please be kind?  I’m also open to constructive criticism though so yeah.  How I’m posting a Steve Rogers fic before a Thor fic is beyond me but I guess ya gotta follow the spark?  This literally is based off a dream so it should be interesting?!  If I can actually finish it?!  I have not seen Endgame (I’m not mentally prepared) but I have a general idea of how it goes and I’m writing things differently.  For reasons.  I hope you all enjoy!​ EDIT: I’m so mad at Tumblr I tried to add a tag through mobile and it DELETED THE WHOLE DANG POST FORMATTING AND ALL so here it is again.

Links: Chapter 2

You groaned as you rolled over and blearily felt around for your phone on the nightstand; the display lit up so bright it made your eyes squint in pain.  As they finally adjusted to the screen and you saw the numbers 2:43, you felt a familiar anger boil up inside you.  That anger spiked when you heard a few thumps and more giggling from the living room.  This was the third time this week Steve had brought some random drunk girl home from the bar where he worked.  He was a popular guy because he was great at what he did, good-looking too you had to admit.  And he was Captain America.  He knew he had these qualities though and he flaunted them.  For most people, his cockiness was a turn on; for you, it was the exact opposite and made most of the time rooming with him a miserable thing.  You rolled over and squeezed your eyes shut, desperately willing sleep to come.  Your mind trailed off to when you first met Steve.  After the defeat of Thanos and the death of so many, Tony in particular, the Avengers had dispersed; they remained in touch but they all had decided to lead normal lives.  As normal as possible anyway.  

Steve Rogers?  Captain America?  He decided to get a regular job at a regular bar in some regular town and move into some regular house.  You knew he hurt.  Who didn’t?  Everyone had lost someone.  You…  You had lost your sister.  She was the one who roomed with you before Steve.  Some of her pictures were still on the mantle along with one of the Avengers together.  You always smiled when you saw those pictures.  The one with your sister was her in the snow, her skin flushed a bright red from the cold, her nose and eyes scrunched up as she laughed.  That memory was so sweet, still fresh as if you had taken the picture yesterday.  She had tripped and fallen face first in the snow.  It was deep so it hadn’t hurt her.  Instead she had flooded the air with her laughter.  The two of you had ended up gasping for breath from hysterics.  The one of the Avengers was similar although the focus of their laughter seemed to be Tony Stark’s frown.  It wasn’t really a frown though, more as if he was trying to keep a smile off his face.  Steve had never told you the story (he never really told you much about that time) but you guessed they were ribbing him for something.  The love for each other was evident though.  Steve seemed to be the most enthusiastic; his head was thrown back, eyes closed.  He was holding his stomach and his golden hair was falling loosely in a wave.  It made you smile every time you looked at those.

“Steeeevveee…”  A whine came from the living room.  Your efforts to go back to sleep were a no-go.  All those girls he brought home were so…  Not Steve.  It made your blood run hot.

“That’s it,” you whispered angrily to no one in particular as you leapt from your bed and stalked down the hall.  The was a furry rug running down the length of the floor; you weren’t exactly trying to move quietly.  Still, you doubted Steve wouldn’t hear you, either way.  At the last minute, something stopped you from rounding the corner.  Really, what right did you have to tell him not to bring girls home?  This was half his house.  You had to be at work in three hours now though, a thought that made you somewhat desperate.  You took a deep breath and slowly padded out into the living area.  

There was Steve, sitting on the couch (the couch you sat on too sometimes for Christ’s sake).  The girl was straddling his lap, her blonde curls loose around her shoulders.  Her mini skirt was hiked up to her hips.  His arms were at her back and he was kissing her neck; her hands were in his hair and she let out a small moan.  You stood frozen in place.

They were completely absorbed in each other, completely oblivious to you standing there gawking.  It was an impressive sight to see Steve in action if you were being completely honest with yourself.  Then he opened his eyes.  You’d looked him in the face before, knew he had pretty blues but this…  This was different.  They were stunning, intense.  And focused on you as the girl he was holding let her head fall back on a sigh.  He didn’t stop, just watched you watching him.  It made the muscles in your stomach clench.  What the hell?  You stood straight, shook your head in an attempt to make the haziness leave your brain and cleared your throat.  She jumped in his arms but didn’t make any move to get off his lap.  She did a half turn to see who was there; you crossed your arms and tapped your foot.

“Look, I don’t wanna be rude and I don’t know if Steve told you but he doesn’t live alone.  And I gotta get up for work in the morning.  I mean, can you guys just be a little quieter, Steve?”  You directed your gaze to him.  He watched you lazily but…  Your cheeks flushed hot when he kept watching you.  Shit…  “That’s all I need…”  You trailed off awkwardly, frustrated with yourself.  He finally looked away and back at her face.

“Gosh, doll, looks like our fun’s over.  Maybe some other time?”  He smirked, squeezing her hips.  He continued smirking as she stared at him in disbelief.

“Look,” she finally said, mirroring your statement with sarcasm, “I don’t wanna be rude but I don’t  know who this bitch thinks she is—”  Your eyes widened when Steve didn’t even let her finish her sentence as he stood up abruptly, letting her fall indignantly to the cushion next to him.

“That bitch,” he said quietly, “pays half the rent.  She’s my roommate.  And I won’t have anyone disrespecting her.”   Now it was her turn to widen her eyes; her mouth gaped open.  Steve stood, imposing, one hand in the pocket of his blue jeans, the other arm extended to the door.  The girl stood quickly and grabbed her bag from the coffee table.  The door slammed as she left.  You crossed your arms and tried to look everywhere but at Steve who still faced away from you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.  I just…  I have to be there at, like, six—”

“It’s fine.”  His shoulders and back flexed; you gulped when he turned around and studied your face.  “She shouldn’t have said that.”  God those blue eyes.  He took a step forward and another when you didn’t back away.  Finally, he grinned.  “I think you made her jealous.  I mean, who wouldn’t be jealous of you?  You get to see America’s ass in person every day.”  You rolled your eyes.  Steve having access to the internet was all at once the worst and best thing.  He was fascinated by memes and when it came to memes of himself… well, he could make you sit for hours showing you memes.  “Play hooky with me tomorrow, let me make up for how she treated you.”  You crossed your arms again and pursed your lips, shook your head.

“No-can-do, Steve.  I’m one of the openers.  I wouldn’t do that on such short notice.”

“I figured as much.  I’ve never seen you call out.  I mean, except that one time you were puking your guts out.”  Steve smirked, you shuddered.

“Ugh, that was awful.  I was so sick!  Thank god you didn’t bring anyone here those nights.”  You returned his smirk as Steve gave you an expression of mock surprise, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I don’t bring that many girls home, okay?  Besides, I have to drown out the bad memories somewhere.”  There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.  

“Steve—"

“Plus, you were so miserable.  I didn’t want to bother you.  I tried to stay scarce those days.”  He’d crossed his arms again, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his face instead of how good he looked in that worn white t-shirt of his.  His words jarred a memory in you though from the last time you remembered being that sick.

You were fifteen.  Your mom had to work the night shift at the hospital.  She wasn’t particularly caring anyway.  Y/Sister’s name was the one who found you in the bathroom in the middle of the night, laying on the cold tile floor holding your stomach.  She had rubbed your back and held your hair back from your face and made sure you drank little bits of water to wash away the gross aftertaste.  

“Ssshh,” she had whispered.  “It’s all right, you’re okay.”  She had helped you back to bed, tucked you in with a bucket on the floor.  She had stayed there all night, waiting it out with you.  It was the best feeling just knowing someone was there.  She was always there for you, even when no one else was…

Tears sprang unbidden to your eyes and you bit your lip.  Shit.  Shit shit shit.  

“I, uh, I gotta go to bed, okay?  Um, sorry about tonight.  Didn’t mean for it to go that way,” you said again.  That quick he closed the space between you; he was so close you could smell the subtle aroma of his cologne, see the way his eyes searched yours.  He reached up and brushed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed falling.

“Please don’t apologize.  Can I take you out after you get off?”  You looked up at him (you definitely had to look up) and studied his face.  He looked so tired.  His eyes looked sad.  How had you never noticed before?  Maybe it was time you paid attention.  A small nod.

“Yeah,” you whispered, even though you didn’t even know why you had to whisper.  “I get off at 1.  Should I meet you?”  Steve smiled then.  Golden boy.  Apollo.  The sun.

“Nah, I got this.  I’ll pick you up.”  Was he always a gentleman like this?  A quick hitch of your breath as he leaned forward and spoke close to your ear “Good night, Y/N.”  He stood up and slowly brushed passed you heading to the room at the other side of the hall where he saluted you with a grin as he went in and closed his door.  He knew.  He knew the effect he suddenly was having on you and he was loving it.  If you were being honest, you didn’t mind that you were finally acknowledging it.

And now, somehow, you were going to hang out with Steve Rogers tomorrow.  You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your disbelieving giggle.  It felt good.