#to me. that reads more like steve just having to live with the ptsd he already suffers from in the actual main tl

[very-d1pper]

inspired by a post from @jamandjazz

How Johnny Cade, Dallas Winston, and Steve Randle are affected by their parent issues.

ok so keep in mind i havent read the book since december (i dont have my own copy) so this might be a bit wrong. im using info from my mind, the movie, the musical, tiktok, and here.

Johnny Cade

so its canon that johnny wouldve ran away if it werent for the gang (starting off strong with dally-johnny parallels OUCH)

the abuse from his parents definitely gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to feel loved

which is why johnny gets along with dally so well, i'll get into that more in dally's part

he 100% thinks that the entire world hates him except for the gang

someone said that he is so sweet its sick, not true. the abuse definitely toughened him up enough that he will be mean to strangers

he canonically is somewhat responsible (going out to the store to buy supplies and giving ponyboy a note)

im saying that because im pretty sure pony says something like twobit and someone else in the gang would forget to buy something johnny remembered

johnny learned that from having to live out on the street sometimes when his parents fought or kicked him out for multiple days

he is the living definition of forgive but never forget

he just wants a home

i personally hc that the abuse started as johnny grew older, maybe when he was 6-8 years old

which is why johnny (especially in the musical) still cares about his parents

because he remembers that they WERE good people

and he hopes to bring them back eventually

Dallas Winston

oh this man...

ran away from his problems. thats canon

his mom died when she gave birth and thats why his dad is the alcoholic deadbeat abuser he is

the abuse from his parents gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to love

which is why he can talk to johnny so well because johnny is used to the type of love dally gives

he 100% hates the world except for the gang

the abuse toughened up both johnny and dally, the thing is dally grew up with it, johnny was raised with love at first

also dally's environment in ny, that place is rough in many areas

tulsa doesnt have that, at least not on the level of ny

he's rough with everyone because thats what he learned

Steve Randle

UGH THIS MAN BRO

screw u se hinton for giving us NOTHING abt him

anyways!!

the neglect sooo fucked him up

then his dad giving physical money for forgiveness?

hell nahhh

steve definitely felt like he cannot be loved without paying someone

like with real money

which made him feel unlovable because he's like broke as fuck

soda was the first person to show him what love actually is

his mom uhh eloped to wherever after steve's birth ig idfk

steve thinks everything in the world comes with a price, even an ounce of love

i literally cant think of shit for this man rn

All Three

accidentally trauma bonding

johnny mentioned something then both steve and dally said "same"

genuinely concerning from an outsider standpoint but really funny to them

if it was modern au darry or soda wouldve sent them to therapy

one time johnny got kicked out and went to the curtis house and found steve in the kitchen

j: "kicked out?"

s: "...yeah"

j: "same."

then dally walks in

d: "bottles got thrown at me in buck's place"

j: "ptsd?"

d: "no-" *remembers he's with two people who had it happen to them* "...yeah"

j and s- "its good."

johnny convinces them to do a cuddle blob thing (the gang's done them before)

darry wakes up and see them, doesnt comment but remembers for blackmail

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 12

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, and Bucky has to talk to Steve.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD/panic attack, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of drug abuse, soft!Bucky, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, mentions of street life, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

A/N: this part does dive into Shy's past with her father, and we learn about Dove's sister. It can be a bit dark. Read ALL warnings, and if you feel it's too much for you, I don't apologize. This story was always going to be dark.

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*Bucky edits by @nixakimbo

There’s a comfort with living here with Bucky and Alpine. You’re able to relax, not fully, but you are getting there. Alpine definitely helps. Bucky. You want to let him in as easy as he let you in, but you just can’t. You could sit and listen to him talk, but don’t want to talk about your life just yet.

You want to, and then you don’t. You need to, but you just can’t. He is giving you so much of himself, including a place to live. Refusing to even take money from you. You weren’t poor, in fact you had done well with your books. That ugly piece of shit house had insurance, so yay for that.

But Bucky. He’s a mystery to you like all men. You know you shouldn’t, but you compare them all to your father. It’s why you wrote; you want to make stories of men that were good, honest, and didn’t have crippling and poor coping mechanisms. Bucky didn’t seem like that. In fact he gave you just enough distance, and you craved him more.

Was crave even the right word? You dream of him. Wished he would close the gap a bit more so you could count the colors of blue in his eyes. Had a desire to snoop in his room just so you knew what cologne he wore or if that scent was purely Bucky.

Why did he haunt your thoughts? Your newest male character was Bucky. Down to the cleft in his chin. The very dimple you longed to poke a finger in, hoping to bring a smile big enough to make the faint dimples appear on his cheeks. You liked when you could get that to happen.

Why couldn’t you be more comfortable with him? Why couldn’t you just speak more than a few words? Every evening he even asked if he was talking too much, and you’d respond by shaking your head no. You’d never been given much of a voice in your home, yet another reason you wrote. Your writing gave you that voice. Those moments to say what you wanted, even if it was fiction. There is always a bit of truth in the midst of fantasy.

If you could have made the perfect man, it would be Bucky. He is handsome without question, but his patience astounded you. He never once raised his voice. He saw you look in the fridge at the beer for too long, and the next day the beer was gone. You still haven’t found remnants of even beer garbage. He watched you curiously as you traced your finger along the walls, asking what you were doing. “They’re spotless.”

There aren't burns, dents, or ripped out wiring in his home. It is fascinating that there was a man that could no doubt live in a world of turmoil and danger, and yet his home is a safe haven for him, you, and even the cute little kitty that snuggled up to you every night.

Alpine is a godsend to you. She followed you around like a lost puppy, well cat. When Bucky came home, she would stand between the two of you, making sure there was a safe distance, but that you could hear her purring. You liked her purring. When she greeted her dad, Bucky would look at you but you kept your eyes trained on Alpine. Only random looks would move up to him. You were a puzzle that he couldn’t quite put together, but he knew once he did that you would be beautiful, even if there were missing pieces.

You kiss the top of Alpine’s head as you allow yourself to drift off to sleep. Sleep still scared you, and you found yourself panting and in a puddle of sweat almost every night, so far you’d been able to keep it within the four walls of your bedroom. “Goodnight, sweet girl. Keep us all safe.”

Sleep was always fraught with dreams that transformed into nightmares. Dreams of how you wished your life with your father was, but morphing into nightmares of how you viewed things with the eyes of you as a little girl. Parties that would get too loud, and your father would start cussing and pushing everyone around before they’d leave.

Parties where he would pass out early, and you’d have to hide in the closet as people would have sex in your bed. You’d sit in the corner of your closet with your fingers in your ears and tears running down your face as you try to block out the noises just a few feet away. You got smarter as you got older, but their gazes would follow you if you wanted food or to go to the bathroom.

Those slobs begged for the days that your father would pass out and they would beat on your door. They never made it in there with you, but their lingering eyes and words to each other was enough for you to swallow bile on more than one occasion.

Your nightmares held the fights that you had with your dad. When he’d drunkenly throw whatever he could get his hands on at you, or punch walls. Even ripping the phone off the wall because the sound of it annoyed him. How many fires had you put out because his disgusting self fell asleep with a cigarette.

This dream is your worst. His ghost is chasing you around the fire that you started on purpose. Letting you know that you would never get rid of him. His voice would be in your ear for the rest of your life, and would even haunt your children. You would never know peace because you were the reason his wife was dead. It’s what you deserved.

His voice repeats ‘It’s what you deserved’ over and over again. Marking itself in your very soul, until you believed that no good could come into your life because you didn’t deserve it. You deserved to live a miserable and loveless life like he did because it was your fault, and you deserved every bit of suffering that ever came in your life.

“No! Nonononono!”

“Hey,” Bucky whispers into your ear, giving your body a light shake. “Hey, come back to me.”

“You’re a liar!” You shoot up in the bed, and see his face trying to touch you. “Stop touching me! Don’t touch me. You’re wrong! You’re always wrong!” Your arms swing at him a few times and he starts to step back with his arms up in surrender, “I don’t want you to touch me!”

“It’s me, Bucky,” your body freezes, but your eyes blink a few times as he comes into clear view. Bucky isn’t your father, and your father isn’t Bucky. “I can leave.”

“No!” You should have let him. Why did you stop him? What is it that you want? “I don’t want to be alone. I’m always alone because he isolated me. I’ve never had a friend, and I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to blame everyone for my problems. I don’t want to be without…touch.”

You extend a shaky hand out to Bucky. Who are you? You didn’t want touch, you wanted to be left alone. Bucky’s head twists to the side as he looks at your trembling hand. His eyes move down to Alpine who is on your lap, and ready to pounce. She never took a defensive approach towards Bucky, “Can I hold your hand?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully for the first time. You wanted him to touch your hand, and you wanted him to go away. Conflicting emotions were complicated.

“How about I hold my hand here?” He holds his hand straight out to yours barely an inch between you, and you close the space and press yours against his. Your fingers look so small compared to his. You bet he could play the piano beautifully. He has long lithe fingers that you wanted to weave yours into his.

His rings are cold against your skin. They were menacing to so many people, but to you they just looked like Bucky. You look up at him and start laughing. Laughing so hard that tears spring to your eyes. This is what crazy is, you just know it. He was going to walk away from you, and you’d never see him again.

Your hand just looked so tiny against his. Holding up your other hand, Bucky meets it with his metal hand, and you can’t stop yourself from weaving all ten of your fingers with his, continuing to laugh. He doesn’t retreat, his mouth just turns up into a crooked grin before he laughs with you.

“Are you okay?”

“I gotta break the cycle,” you laugh even harder, and aren’t sure why. Was this the mental break you assumed would eventually find you? If this was a mental break, you’d take it. You had no desire for alcohol. Didn’t want to turn to drugs. The only thing you wanted was to know that Bucky is smiling, and you wanted to keep learning all about him.

“You are. You’re breaking the cycle,” he answers with so much certainty that it cuts the air off from your lungs. Your laughing stops as soon as it had started, and he smiles as he sits down beside you. “You got yourself a little guard cat. Alpine, I don’t want to hurt her. Are you okay with me here?”

“Actually, yes. I hate men,” his mouth tightens as he watches you. “They’re thoughts of defiling a woman are so evidently clear in the way that they ogle you, and…the things they say.”

“Has anyone ever…”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not just saying that to avoid a trauma talk. It wasn’t without trying, but no. Not like that. Not sexually,” Bucky takes the abrupt finish as you wanting to move on past this talk. And yet you’re still looking at him, and opening up.

“Your father?”

“He was a mean drunk, and can we leave it at that?” Bucky gives you a head nod in response. He wouldn’t dig, he never did. “Thank you. I just…I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not in my life, and not in here,” you point at your head as you study his eyes. How were there so many shades of blue? “I’ve never really lived before. Had friends, but as soon as we got close, I’d push them away, and they’d give up on me. Bucky, if I push…don’t give up on me?”

“I’ve devoted a lot of time to you. I don’t want to give up. I always see things through.”

“Thank you,” two words have never held so much power for you before. You could never thank Bucky enough for the things he’s done, but mostly for the things he just said. Everyone with their good intentions always gave up on you. You couldn’t blame them. There’s only so many times that you push someone away that they give up on trying.

You bump your hip into Bucky’s as you look up at him with a genuine smile. Dates. You have been on six of them now, and he is still as much of a gentleman as he was the night he brought you home with him. The man slept in the bed with you, and still wouldn’t initiate anything. And heaven forbid if the two of you kissed at home. It’s like he had a timer that went off, and he would pull back.

“Bucky!”

“What is it?” His silvery blue eyes look down at you. His lips pull up with a smirk. He knew. He knew exactly what you wanted, and you were trying to get his attention.

“You know!”

“Just tell me then. Use your words, and tell me explicitly what you want,” it sounded like a bigger invitation than what you were wanting at this moment. What you wanted when you got home was entirely different. “Shy?”

Your fingers tickle along his as you will him to grab ahold of your hand. “My sweet little Shy Violet, all you have to do is use those words that I know you have.”

“Well…aren’t you my,” you stop your words. Could you call him that? You lived together. You saw him everyday, and talked to him throughout the day, there was no other woman. But could you say boyfriend?

“I think we’ve earned the right to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend,” Bucky would say those words over and over again just to see your sweet smile, hear the little giggle that rose up your throat, and even feel the warmth that was circled your body. “Shy, you’re my girlfriend.”

“I want my boyfriend to hold my hand then,” you blurt out. Bucky chuckles, but he does entangle his fingers with yours, pulling you as close to him as he possibly can as you walk back home. Your steps match each other, and you’ve never felt safer than you do right now.

“Shy, what are you feeling right now?”

“Right now?” You look up at him with your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Explain your feelings towards me and us like you would in one of your books.”

“Oh…well,” Bucky winces as he looks at you, fearful that he overstepped his bounds, and pushed you too far, too fast. The two of you had been making great progress with this new step in your relationship, and he doesn’t want to offset it or have you regress.

”Never mind. Forget I asked.”

”No,” you strain out a giggle. Grabbing his arm with your free hand. “It’s not that simple, bubba. It…words don’t always flow, they just get caught in my throat, and don’t want to come out. And I usually close my eyes before I start writing, and imagine the scene. What are you doing?”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, removing your hands off him before he steps in front of you. Squatting down a bit as he peeks over his shoulder, “Hop on, and close your eyes. You can whisper it in my ear.”

Exhaling loudly, you jump onto Bucky’s back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you close your eyes. Letting your body feel everything that you feel about Bucky. “It’s new.”

“But good?” He asks. You give a quick peck to his neck. “I take that as a yes.”

“It’s so good,” you hum, wanting to express everything that you’re feeling at this moment. “It’s like this warmth deep inside my soul. It rushes out into every part of me, and wants me to always be with you because I don’t want to miss any breath that you take, or any blink of your eyes. I want to hear every groan of pain that you have because I want to be the one to make you feel better. It’s this rumbling fluttering feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like I’m in knots. It scares me and excites me all at the same time.”

Giving him a few nips to his neck, you move to right your head. Placing your mouth right behind the shell of his ear as you continue to whisper all the things that Bucky makes you feel. “Every time you touch me I get goose pimples, and this flood of…heat throughout every part of me. All the way to my soul, and to places I’ve never felt before. And I want you to explore those parts of me. And it’s like I’m home.”

“Hmm?” His voice is a whispered groan. You can feel his body tense under you, and you know why. He’d been starving his body of sexual gratification just to make sure that you were comfortable. He could also feel just how heated you are, right at your core. You meant more to him than a good lay, but each part of the past few minutes has his body on edge. Hyper alert of how your body is craving him as much as he craves you.

Your heated core presses into his back, making his aching cock twitch with a fervent need for your warmth. He is just about in a state of not seeing things clearly because of your pulse. The pulse that is in sync with his, and he felt it in your entire body. Throbbing harder than even he is. He’s tried to deny his animalistic needs because he felt like it was what you needed. But maybe you needed him in the same ways he needed you.

“Because my home is wherever you and our daughter are. Bucky, you can start calling me her mommy if you want to.”

“Please,” he strains out. Not even realizing himself how much he wanted Alpine to belong to both of you. Hearing you call him her daddy just felt so right, and he wanted you to feel the same way he did. That…yeah, the warmth.

“James, I love you,” he stops his walking right before you get to the complex. His body freezes as his eyes well up with tears. “I love you,” you whisper right behind his ear, and softly press a kiss before you wiggle out of his grasp.

Going to stand in front of him, your arms wrap around his waist. And you rest your chin on his chest as you stare up at him. “And I’m never going to get tired of saying that. I love you, James Buchannan Barnes.”

“I love you,” two broken people that had created a weird codependent relationship had no business falling in love. He needed you. Needed you every day and in every way. You are his best friend. The best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to learn you all the more because of it. “I LOVE HER!”

Bucky throws his head back, yelling up at the sky before he looks back down at your scrunched up nose, and your eyes shining with the tears you weren’t allowing to spill over your lash line. “I love you.”

“And I want you to have all of me,” you slide out of his embrace, and pull him towards the door. “Tonight. I want us to rush into the apartment, and struggle to get each other's clothes off. But once we are completely bare in front of each other, I want our hands and lips to discover our bodies. Trace each line and curve with our fingertips. Intertwining every limb with the other until we’re too close to avoid your cock going into my cunt, and…”

His mouth crashes into yours as the two of you stumble into the building. A mad dash of hands roughly roaming over each other. Undoing buttons in the elevator until the two of you hit the door of the apartment and it’s a struggle to get in with the way you’re pulling off jackets and pulling apart shirts.

Crossing the threshold and the clothes fly at an alarming rate. Some in pieces others being tugged off at awkward angles because you need your mouth back on his. Thirsty for the taste of his mouth and you revel in it every time you get that tiny sip.

And just like you promised when you’re both naked, and pressed up against each other in a heated embrace the kissing stops, and his eyes peer so desperately into yours. He gulps, squeaking as he tries to talk. You can feel his pulse through his heavy cock that is pressing up against your stomach, “We can…we can stop whenever you want.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper as you start kissing down his chest. His hands caress your back as he watches you discover the hills and valleys on his chest. Dipping lower to kiss over every hard line that makes up his abs. Gazing up at him through your lashes. He isn’t sure if you knew how crazy you are making him feel, but he hopes you did.

No woman has ever shown him the care that you are. Making sure you kiss every scar with the most tender press of your lips. All this time he was spending hoping you were okay, he didn’t realize he wanted someone to do the same. And you had been. Not with words, but with how you took care of him. How you would jump up and run to the door with a smile just to greet him. Jumping into his arms, you would rub on his shoulders asking how his day was.

You felt real because you were. You didn’t want the amazing sex he could give you; you wanted him. His heart, body, and soul, and you had it. You had every part of him wrapped tightly around your little pinky finger, and he didn’t want it to ever unravel. He craved you like an addict to their next hit. He wanted to experience every part of life with you, including growing old.

Bucky never thought he was going to have a long life, and now he didn’t want to die before he was five hundred years old, and that still wouldn’t be enough time with you. Eternity was just the start of enough time with you.

His hands grip the underside of your ass before he picks you up. Letting your legs wrap around him as he takes the two of you to the bedroom. You are drenched and ready for him now, but you were right, he wanted his fingers and mouth to discover you first. He didn’t want this moment to end.

Sitting you on the edge of the bed, he yanks you back down the mattress when you try to scoot up the bed. Sinking to his knees, he starts at your toes, and kisses all the way up your leg. Stopping at the top of your thigh, he steals a glance at your glistening folds, kissing across your thigh before he makes his decent back down.

Moving to your right leg, he does the same motion. Finishing at your feet before he sits up a bit more. His eyes bore into yours before he leans forward, kissing over your mound. Right above the split, and you tremble. He is everywhere but where your body needs him. But you needed him more than your body.

His lips trail all over your soft pliable skin, and your fingers ghost over his arms and shoulders at the same speed. The tips of your fingers paint every inch of his flesh before he hovers over your body, and you take a haggard breath, giving your head a nod, “I can’t stand it anymore.”

”Good,” his legs move between your own, and he pushes you further apart. His digits slide down your arms, before he weaves his hands within yours, and pulls them above your head. “I can’t wait either,” slipping one hand free, he lines himself up with your entrance, “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he grunts.

”Okay,” your voice croaks out before he slowly descends inside of you. Moving at such an achingly slow pace, and making sure that your body memorizes the vein that runs over his cock. He makes sure that your velvety skin feels every inch of his head as it spears through your walls.

Biting on your lip, you are overcome with so much…just so much, but he shakes his head, “Do not withhold any sound from me, Shy. I need every part of this. If you wince, I want to know that it’s because of the stretch you feel as your body adjusts to me.”

“Okay,” he couldn’t fault you for becoming breathless, and unable to form words. He knew you’d been out of commission for a few years, and he could tell. Just like the proverbial walls around your heart, he would break, well stretch, these walls, too. He’d make sure that you learned how to take every inch of him. “Why did you stop?”

“Baby, I’m too deep.”

”No,” you want to cry. He wasn’t close enough, “I need to feel you on me. I belong to you, Bucky. Because you belong to me. I just,” Bucky slides completely home, and your words stop. Balls deep, and his weight is on every part of you. He is the most perfect feeling on you. Covered in Bucky. It’s what you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

Letting out the sweetest whimper when Bucky starts to slowly and steadily rut into you. Your body sounds vulgar with how wet you are, but your voice is the most angelic noise. Mewling, and calling out his name because nothing else mattered in the world. Only Bucky and you. The two of you had created a bubble of safety and care, and you had no desire to leave. Just wanted him. Always him.

“You’re my home,” you whisper as the constant fluttering knot in your stomach tightens. This is happening way too fast. No way is this going to last all night. You didn’t want to stop this feeling ever. “It’s…”

“It was always you,” Bucky pants out as his thrusts quicken. Normally he could last longer, but not this time. This time is overwhelming and feels too good. Nothing was better than this, and he was going to spend the rest of the weekend inside of you. Learning all the secrets to your body.

Even though you are struggling to hold on, he could feel your walls fluttering around him. Keeping your intense gaze just on him just like he asked you. “Thank you, Shy,” he coos, changing his angle he starts to drive into your warmth, and you gasp. The build up of the most beautiful high is becoming unbearable, but you weren’t finished just yet.

“Shy, let go for me, and we’ll do it again. And again. And again.”

“Promise?” your voice is hoarse as you choke down the need to come again.

“I’m never going to stop making love to you,” you let go as euphoria surges through every inch of your body. Racing through your blood, and making you all dizzy in the brain. Not even getting a chance to come back down when your walls grip around Bucky’s length so hungrily that his balls tighten and he shoots sticky warmth into the depths of your body, and you release again at the feeling of him in your belly.

”I love you,” you whimper, trying to ground yourself so you don’t lose sight of the face Bucky makes as he releases in a woman for the first time. Letting your body milk every drop of his thick cum as it blooms in your tummy like the best warmth.

“I love you, forever, Shy.”

”Forever.”

“Shy,” Bucky gives you a lingering kiss on your cheek as his left hand presses on the swell of your belly. He claims he could feel the baby better that way. His left hand is much more sensitive, and he wanted to feel the two of you growing and ‘swimming’. “Sweetheart, why don’t you ladies go whip up some lunch?”

“Of course, come on,” you grab Dove’s hand, pulling her into the kitchen. That was code for Bucky and Steve needed alone time. But his spoiled brat didn’t even want to leave him. She turns her head to look back at Steve giving you a clear view of her mark. She is completely stuck on him. Guess he finally sealed the deal.

You clear your throat, looking at her with your eyes wide, “They need a moment.”

“But…”

Ugh. You snap your fingers, and point into the kitchen, but she still looks back at Steve, “Dovey, follow Shy into the kitchen, and make me something real tasty, and we can share, okay?”

“Okay,” her body swishes back and forth, and she stands up a bit straighter, dropping your hand, and following you willingly. He tamed the brat. You were sure she still would stub up on him, and become a bit too childish for your liking, but even Bucky is watching Steve in an odd way.

“So how was it?” You ask with a smirk, as you pull out a few things from the fridge. The least you could do was talk to the girl. Maybe she wasn’t that bad.

“How was what?”

“Weren’t you a virgin?” Bashfully she looks down at the counter, finding her a seat in one of the stools. You’d have to hand her some things to chop, and hope she knew how to handle a knife. Her eyes never move back up to meet you, and you worry you made her shut down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I just don’t even know how to begin to explain it,” you smile, sliding over a cutting board, knife and veggies. Without hesitation she starts slicing things up, and thinks? “It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t even begin to describe it. He loves me.”

“Steve told you that?” She shakes her head no, but her smile never fades. It’s the one thing Bucky said Steve claimed he’d never do again. Love. Of course he wouldn’t tell her, but sometimes a woman just knows.

“He pretty much told me without saying the words. We’re going to get married, and have babies like you,” sweet summer child. You and Bucky have built a relationship for years. Strangers to saviors to friends to lovers. She wouldn't understand your dynamic. “Every love story is different, but I do love mine and Steve’s.”

“Because he stalked you?”

“No,” she giggles, clearly forgetting the way that they met. “Because he had a goal, and he achieved it,” by breaking her down. “I’m not the person I was before. I feel like I have power, and a voice, and I’m desirable. I’d never felt like that before. My parents somewhat sheltered me. I don’t talk about Steve to them. They both want different things for me, and I just have spent so much time being the perfect girl for both of them. Dad wanted me to teach at a university, mom wanted me to be a pediatric nurse, so I went into early childhood education.”

“Do you have anyone you do talk to about Steve?”

She shrugs her shoulders as she bites into a carrot stick. “Just my sister. They don’t even know I talk to her. She’s my mom’s daughter, not my dad’s. She stopped trying to be perfect a long time ago,” there’s a sadness laced in her eyes as she stares at the cut veggies. “I don’t think they’d much approve.”

“Fuck ‘em,” she looks up at you with her brows furrowed, and a smile tingling to spread on her lips. You could see why Steve melted in her presence. You didn’t like seeing her sad because her smile is radiant. “How do you feel about Steve?”

“I love him,” no hesitation and with so much conviction.

“If they can’t see that you love him then why have them in your life? So what is it that your sister does?”

“Currently? Uh…changing her phone number again,” there is more to that story, and you’re not sure what.

“Their job — you’re around the business a lot. Are you using?” Her head shakes rapidly, taking a moment to look back where Steve and Bucky were, and her body goes frigid. “They’re just in the study with the door closed.”

“Steve doesn’t allow me to. He only lets me shotgun with him, or drink if he’s around. I’m a cheap drunk. And I get too flirty,” her giggle is awkward, and she avoids your eyes.

“IsYyur sister a junkie?”

“Not that bad. Steve says he doesn’t sell to her. I showed him her picture, and he told everyone while I was there not to sell to her. Told her that he would pay for her to go to rehab, and pay her phone bill so we knew where she was, and she disappeared for a while. She…she’s going to be okay. Steve will help.”

Walking over to her side of the counter, you open your arms wide. You understood addiction in people you love better than most. “Or you can just hold the baby?” With a sweet smile, she meets your hug, pulling back only to feel around your belly.

Steve shuffles in his seat as he stares at the monitors. Bucky doesn’t say anything as he watches his friend. “Shy and I like knowing where each other are in the house. She works here a lot and it’s a way for her to just see where I am.”

“I wasn’t questioning your need for cameras in your house. I’m just observing Dovey.”

“You’re looking awfully hard,” Steve straightens up only when you step away from Dove. Turning to look at his friend, but his eyes still wander over to the monitors. “So, why did you want to come here?”

“I want to apologize for what I did, but also the things I said about Shy.”

“Why?” Bucky cocks up an eyebrow at him. He’d love to have Steve graveling on his knees for the things he said about you.

“What do you mean why? I’m just apologizing and there’s no other fucking reason.”

“Don’t smoke in here,” he points a finger at his friend who started to touch his pocket. “We can walk outside, but this is a smoke free house. I’m asking why you’re apologizing because if it’s to ask me back, I’m not ready for that.”

“Why not?” Steve’s question shocks Bucky as he’s the one that turns to the monitor, pointing one of his fingers at the screens where you are. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you fully do, but you’re getting there.”

“So you’re just going to sit around and be a house husband for the rest of your life?”

“I could,” Bucky smiles, leaning back in his chair. “I could do that. Shy has had another successful book, and I made good investments. Just like you. My priority is my family now, Steve. And I can’t jeopardize her or our…you haven’t even asked me what we’re having.”

“This is a new thing for me,” he sighs. He’d been a horrible friend. Dove had told him as such. The more he talked to her, the more he realized how he had good people in his corner that wanted what was best for him. “What are you having?”

“He’s a boy. He’s all boy. Ember. Shy is insisting that Buchanan Barnes stays as well. She’s a bit of a romantic like that. I wanted a girl, but I hope he’s as in love with his mom as I am. She deserves another good man in her life. Speaking of family; I haven’t heard anything about Dove’s sister, Larkin. I still have our underground crew that stake out the trap houses,” he shakes his head, knowing it's the one thing that Steve couldn’t protect Dove from. That ugly world.

“Two weeks, Buck. That’s a long time out on the streets.”

“Look at me right now, and promise me that you haven’t done anything or sold to her,” Steve’s eyes roll up to look at Bucky. His face is somber and full of anger at the audacity in the question. “You love her,” Steve shakes his head no, confusion laced in every one of his features. The dramatic tonal shift in the conversation gives him whiplash. “I didn’t ask, you do.”

“I can’t love anymore.”

“Oh, bullshit, Steve. You can walk around acting like your heart is impenetrable because fucking Peggy left you for Rumlow, but you can’t fool me. You love her, and you need to tell her. Sam the other day was saying how different you are, and how you were already making preparations on a wedding, and future children, and where the fuck does that come from if it isn’t love?”

“Loyalty,” Bucky rolls his eyes as he looks at Steve. “It’s close enough to love, and it’s all that she’s going to get.”

“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that? You have got Dove sitting on your cock asleep while people who can switch on you any minute see it. Yeah, information gets out, and it’s not just fucking Sam telling me this shit, Steve. You’re in love and you’ve gotten goddamn sloppy because of it. You show her the same fucking love that you gave Peggy, or you let her go. This life already consumed her sister, is that how you want to see Dove? Strung out? Selling her body for a hit, and too ashamed to seek help somewhere? You give her the same life you would have given Peggy. You tell her what she means to you, and you keep her away from that fucking life. Since when did you get so stupid?”

Steve sits in silence, letting his friend berate him. The only person besides Dove that can talk to Steve like this, and get away with it. “You got stupid when you let that little brat into your heart. You smile now. You’re looking for her fucking sister on the regular so Dove knows she’s okay. You have her lips burned into your skin just like she’s burned herself into your heart. Eventually if you don’t let the fire die down Steve, it burns away.”

“And only ashes and embers remain,” he smiles at his friend, almost laughing at the name Bucky and you chose for your son. Ember. The last remnants of a fire. The tiniest bit of spark that burns bright amongst the ashes. The light in the darknes.

“Do you want to lose Dove?”

“No,” his voice is ragged as his eyes move back to the monitor. Watching as her hands slide over your belly. Dove on her knees, whispering something to your son that Steve couldn’t hear, but he is addicted to seeing her so soft. Longing for the day where she was you.

“Steve, you’re going to. Whether it’s because you’re too fucking stubborn, or because of your stupidity. Do right by her when she’s with you, or let her go. She deserves someone who can give her this. When is enough, enough? Why are you still in this game? We’re getting too old, this is a young man’s game. You have more money than you could have ever possibly need.”

When was enough, enough?

“Steve, I love you, brother,” Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky knows there’s still a human still left in his cold soul. “You see how easy that is? And I love you enough to tell you, I can’t go back into that life. I won’t leave my wife and son behind because of jail or death. Let’s go eat.”

When is enough, enough?

Next

Masterlist

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[tartarusknight]

any recommendations for angsty steve centric fics?

We love some Steve angst!

Boys Keep Swinging by Carbocat is an extremely devastating story. It's not a romance story there isn't any steddie, it's main focus is on Steve and how he struggles with PTSD from everything.

Chokechain by GhostHost is another great fic. The Summary of that one is: Rumors of Steve's pending engagement threaten to splinter the post-Vecna bliss with a harsh dose of reality.

cyclical by cuips_not_cute is a time loop fic. Which is pretty self explanatory. Steve is struggling to save his friends and end the loops.

Gave me something to lose by sierra_writes_things is a shorter story but it's so good. It's not resolved at the end so if that isn't your cup of tea...

how long is forever by boredorphan. Summary is "it felt like they could breathe air again, without the constant fear of having to answer a code red in the middle of the night because of a newly discovered creature. Because what returns to them is not something about the upside down, no. Simply it's a consequence. The result of poorly made decisions, neglected care. It's the loss. Stolen memories."

I know I've kissed you before (Can I try again) by ChristinMKay is so good for an AU. It's a no "supernatural" fic and it's has Steve adopting Dustin in it, which was perfect. This is a steddie fic and it switches back and forth from the past and the present to show you the whole story.

I'd Ask You To Be True by chandy... This fic was the hardest thing I've ever read. It's not a romance story instead it focuses on Steve's relationship with the party. It's based after season two I believe, and its heartbreaking. Through this story we see Steve battling cancer and the party's support during it. However, I will say that it's a heartbreaking ending but it's a beautiful ending at the same time. Read the tags and be warned this one legitimately made me sob to the point I stopped reading it for a little while so I could breathe.

It Takes Two to Survive by Orange_Sunsets is more of a stobin angst fic. It's where Steve and Robin not saved from the Russians instead they end up in the hands of Martin Brenner.

Long Live The Kings by me_4eva is very angsty. It is based in the middle of season 3 and after. It is a Harringrove fic which isn't my cup of tea but it was done so well that I still enjoyed it, maybe just because romance isn't the point of the fic. It's a survival fic through and through. I really recommend this one, it's angsty all around.

Passing of the Torch by mummifiedgoose is a short one that has a sad ending but it touches on the similarities of Lucas and Steve.

Remind Me That I Am A Fool by The_Bees_Want_Arson is a fic about self harm and suicide but it doesn't have a sad ending so that's a plus.

Remember What You're Looking At Is Me by Kwills91 is another good one. It's a steddie fic but it really touches on how Steve is struggling.

Okay so like I have more but I'll let you look at these first. If you want I write a lot of Steve-centric angst. Which is linked on my page :)

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter eleven

Courage

Series masterlist

Previous Part: The Snap Next Part: Homecoming

Word Count: 5,845

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Steve was enraged.

Even after Thanos dusted away half of all living things, blipping away half of all of his loved ones he still didn't feel quite this angry.

He was pretty sure that if he was an animated character, his skin would be firetruck red with puffs of dark grey smoke blowing out of his ears. There would be squiggly black marks around his feet as they quickly stomped across the compound showing how the force of his steps rattled the ground with every stride, effectively and dramatically carrying him to exactly where he needed to be.

The second Steve opened his mouth, the words in the white speech bubble above his head would be replaced by numbers, punctuation marks and octothorps. He had nothing nice to say, and his voice would only come out at one volume until he got exactly what he wanted. Loud.

This anger all started the second his phone dedicated to you rang and he was met with chaos and clinking gun metal on the other line. He heard the familiar clicks of handcuffs, he heard your cries and the questions you were asking out of fear.

He heard the way you weren't read your Miranda Rights, he could tell they had wrongly used force and pulled weapons on you. He didn't even know who they were at first.

So he enlisted the help of Natasha, one of the only other people living at the compound with him at the moment that was available to help him track you down. It took a few days, and every passing moment made him feel sick to his stomach knowing every minute he didn't know how to help you was a minute you were in the custody of some branch of government that was obviously in some sort of power trip.

On the morning of day three of the search, Nat peeled herself away from the laptop for a little while to take a shower and properly get ready for the day right after Steve did, then she came rushing back into the private sector office area with a spring in her step.

"Rogers, you're never going to believe who I just found." She declared with urgency. Steve's head popped up, eyes wide and hopeful. "Just passed by intake, they were booking her."

"Like... HERE?!" Steve questioned, jumping out of his seat faster than she could even answer the question.

"Yeah, literally downstairs." She followed his fast steps down the corridors.

"You're telling me shield agents were the ones who did that to her?" He asked again, smoke building up in his head.

"Go easy on em' Cap, you know they're just following orders." Nat tried to ease his anger. "You know they had to respond to a report."

"They didn't have to respond with a bigger crime than the one she committed in the first place." He puffed, stomps growing louder, fists wound tightly.

By the time he made it to intake, he slammed the door open with enough force to make everyone in the lobby jump out of their own skin. Natasha was surprised it managed to stay on the hinges.

His voice projected loudly, bouncing off each starkly white wall, booming enough to break the florescent lightbulbs above head.

Nat approached the front desk and tapped her nails against the wood, letting her head rest in her hand while she waited for Steve to be done yelling at everyone around him so she could talk some actual legal sense into these imbeciles.

To her surprise, Steve was actually making really good points, using really big words, and his knowledge on the legal side of what was actually here lined up. Which made her job easier in turn, but she was ready to bargain for you nonetheless.

Fourty five minutes.

That's how long it took for Steve to chew out everyone directly involved in the whole ordeal. Every detail he got out of the circumstance in which you were detained made him progressively more and more angry.

Natasha did eventually take over after those forty five minutes and used every detail she just learned, every broken rule in the sun and threw it right back in their faces. Jobs we're lost, livelihoods we're threatened, and a chain reaction was sure to ensue the moment they got their hands on some help from Rhodey.

He vowed to help start an investigation on the corrupt agents that did that to you.

Once Steve ensured you were free to go with a complete scrubbed criminal record including that one speeding ticket you got for going 35 in a 25 zone, he calmed down to a more reasonable state of being.

The smoke from his ears was now nothing but red in his cheeks with little white diagonal lines emphasizing the crease in his angry brow.

Steve and Nat sat heavy in seats like stone while they continued on further. The government needed to make up for what they did to you, and quite honestly, they owe you one for keeping one of its greatest protectors safe for so long in the first place.

At the hour and a half mark, a deal came into agreement, and Steve was squirming in his seat to go and rescue you from the holding room he knew you were locked up in.

It was so hard for him to know you were just down the hall and not be able to go sweep you off your feet and try to put a bandage over the damage he had inadvertently caused you.

This was his fault. And his own mind made sure to remind him of that over and over and over again.

If it weren't for his lack of control around you, you would've been innocent and happy baking cookies and living a life in which none of this was ever even a possibility for you. The least he could've done was be an advocate for your innocence, and get you home.

What he didn't stop to consider was that you were absolutely terrified. Actually, terrified could only describe the surface level of emotions you were feeling.

It had been three days since any of your needs were met all the while being manipulated by people much more powerful than you, and triggered by the behaviors of the men who had you in custody.

You didn't even know where you were, not the building, not the city, not the state. You hadn't eaten anything the entire time you were in custody, and anytime you even tried to sip on water, you couldn't hold back your sobs long enough to choke it down.

There was a lot of time to process your arrest. It was the first time in your life you had even seen a gun in person, let alone have 6 fully automatic weapons pointed directly at you all at once. Harsh hand prints were bruised onto your shoulders, waist, and all over your arms. Your knees were bruised and scraped, your entire face hurt from crying for so long, your back was thrown out, and you were just exhausted.

Along side not eating or drinking, you also weren't sleeping much. It was taking a physical toll on your body.

You also had time to ponder if your time with Steve was worth all of this, because when it all started you thought you were facing county jail and a fine. Not being abducted by the government and starved. You determined that he was worth every star in the sky, and you'd put up with this for as long as your body would allow it to.

But you couldn't deny that the time and distance apart from him was making you feel as though you were so tiny and insignificant in the world he lived in. And if he was out there somewhere, you doubted that you even took up space in his mind anymore. So much of your life had changed since he left, and every day you feel further and further from that girl he loved once upon a time, and all things considered, you were just you.

He wasn't just him. He was a superhero, a role model, a life saver, a war fighter. If your life had significantly changed for you as an every day civilian, you could only imagine he also felt like a whole different person than the man you loved too. He was on the front line, and you were in the very back line.

It wasn't his fault that you felt so far away from him, honestly, it was probably yours. Pushing yourself further and further away from the truth that losing him in your daily life had led you towards so much pain.

You were quite literally at your lowest, hungry and crying on the floor of a temporary cell you were pretty sure was just supposed to be an interrogation room.

There was a table and a chair in there, but you didn't feel safe enough to even sit in the stainless steel trap. You stayed curled up in the corner, desperately trying to stay awake. Jumping at every sound, flinching at every passing footstep, uncontrollably crying at every agent who came in to talk to you.

Every once in a while there would be hours in between anyone coming to check on your state of being, and you'd convince yourself it was better that way. Anything was better than being transported and man handled again.

No matter how scared you were, at some point your body completely shut down and forced your mind to sleep, only to be woken up hours later by a slam so loud it shook the ground and yelling you could hear loud and clear through the door.

The anger and volume in which the shouting happened caused your whole body to tremble like a chihuahua in one of those sad shelter commercials.

Convincing yourself to just breathe through the fear, you were able to pick up a few phrases that made you stop thinking about everything but those words entirely.

"My criminal record was fully scrubbed, there's no reason for her to be punished for anything she did. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You guys are treating her like she killed people, all she did was treat me kindly"

"Lay your hands on her one more time and I swear on everything that I'll bust her out of there and never come back."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, and you didn't want to believe what your gut was telling you. And if it was who you thought it was, you never imagined you'd hear him shouting like that.

Not wanting to believe either of those possibilities were true, not wanting to get your hopes up or become even more hurt, you covered your ears with your cuffed hands and hid your face in your injured knees.

When the time came and an agent placed the key to your cuffs into Steve's palm, he started walking towards your holding room faster that he's ever walked before. Natasha stayed behind and decided to wait in the lobby to give the two of you space.

Getting Steve to talk about you was like pulling teeth, and that's exactly how Nat knew the extent of how precious you were to him. If she hadn't previously met you, she didn't know if at this point she would even be aware of your existence.

When you heard steps approaching, and saw shadows of feet under the door, you covered your ears tighter, and sunk your face deeper into your legs.

You hated the sound of the security code being typed into the keypad, and you despised the click of the door unlocking and opening even more.

But when it did, just as always you cried a little harder, and flinched at the approaching footsteps. This time was different though, as you waited for an agent to start yelling at you, it never happened.

Steve's heart broke as he opened the door and saw you curled up in the corner. This wasn't the happy reunion he had dreamed of since the moment he left, but it was even more bitter sweet than saying goodbye to you.

You had been through a lot and all on your own, arguably more than him. You were smack dab in the middle of one of the biggest traumas of your life, all while being triggered by passed events.

He understood that he was probably one of the last people you wanted to see right now, he even understood that you would be terrified of him right off the bat. You had just listened to him rudely yelling at everyone under the sun for a while, one of your biggest triggers and fears was loud, disruptive men.

The second he stepped in he considered turning right around and getting Natasha to come remove your cuffs and bring you up to their private sector. Maybe you'd feel less on edge around a woman, especially one you trusted and had bonded with once before. But he also didn't want you to feel ignored by him, he didn't want you realizing you were in his place of living without seeing his face or being made comfortable by him.

So he did his best to take the most gentle approach he could. He closed the door behind him so softly it wouldn't make a sound, he walked so carefully as to not make a single thud with his food as if he was sneaking up on an enemy in battle.

Every step closer he took, you could still tell someone was in the room with you, so you tried to push yourself deeper into the corner hoping it would swallow you whole and you'd completely disappear.

You physically couldn't get yourself to look up until someone unusual happened. Whoever was in the room with you had cautiously sat on the floor in front of you and settled in.

"Hey, Sunflower" The calm and comforting voice filled your ears.

Your eyes snapped open, full body chills rushed over your skin as you peaked through your eyelashes, still unwilling to lift your head. In front of you sat Steve, you had never felt so much relief in your entire life for a multitude of reasons.

He looked different. A clean shaven face and a shorter hair cut, scar on his forehead, his usual street ware was replaced with jeans and a nice button down flannel. You assumed this version of him was a lot more typical than the version of him you knew, but he was still so handsome this way.

"I'm so sorry this happened" He apologized, his voice even quieter and more comforting than before. "Is it okay if I take your handcuffs off?"

It had been awhile since you spoken a single word, and right now you didn't even know what to say to him.

Although you knew he would never hurt you, and you were relieved to have him with you now, your brain still wanted to push everyone away. It was in flight or fight, and getting it to listen to your heart saying that he was safe to be around was hard.

But he knew that, and that's why he was maintaining a gentle approach. He vividly remembered that night he got a glimpse of the full extent in which men in your life had scarred you. He knew you'd need some time to warm up, you needed your needs met, you needed a few hours to not feel so scared anymore.

You nodded before reluctantly letting go of the sides of your face and holding your wrists out to him. Steve reached out slowly and unlocked the mechanism allowing them to pop open. He gently took them off your wrists and put them on the floor, revealing your irritated red skin beneath where they once clung to your body.

"Gosh, they put those on so tight" He winced looking at your wrists. "Does it hurt?"

You nodded once again, your tears now fell because you forgot what it was like to be around someone who genuinely cared about you.

"Can I?" He asked, sticking his hands out towards yours.

You hesitantly placed your shaky hands in each of his, desperately trying to get your mind to recognize that he wasn't going to hurt you, trying so hard to think of any words you could say to him.

He very delicately moved his hands upwards to your wrist, and carefully massaged where the cuffs once were. It felt so nice, you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Does that feel better?" He questioned with a worried expression on his face. When you nodded once more, he continued. "Do you know anything about where you are?"

This time you shook your head.

"You're in New York, upstate." He explained to you. "This is a criminal intake center meant for agent interrogation here at the Avengers Compound. I live in this building but I had no clue you were here until an hour and a half ago."

You slowly lifted your head but kept your eyes fixed on your wrists in his hands. Teeny tiny baby steps, but it made him happy.

"I was looking for you since you called, came down as soon as I heard." He continued. "I got it all squared away for you, okay? You don't have to worry about anything. Your criminal record has been completely scrubbed, and you're free to go."

You finally made eye contact, then your mind went crazy again. You didn't have an ID on you, no money, no cards, not even a phone or access to a computer. Then the words finally came to you in a moment of worry. "I don't know how to get home"

"It's okay" he reassured you. "When you're ready and if you're okay with it, I'll bring you to my place. We'll get you settled and I'll fly you home. Is that alright?"

"Thank you" You cried, the words came out broken.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized again. "I'm disgusted by the way this was handled, this should've never happened."

"Not your fault" You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"And I'm sorry you had to hear me yelling like that, I know that probably scared you. I know it'll take some time to settle down from all of this, but I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen, okay?"

"It's okay" Your voice still broken.

The more he spoke, the more you calmed down. You felt almost immediately safer and more grounded in his presence, everything you were worried about before had flown out of the window. He was exactly the same, and it started to feel like no time had passed at all.

The more fear that left your body, the more you wanted to hug him, kiss him, just have him in your arms again. But honestly you felt disgusting and definitely didn't look the best.

"Are you alright, did they hurt you?" He asked, feeling genuinely concerned about the way the agents handled you.

You nodded before rolling up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, revealing the marks your body was littered in. A darkness settled in his eyes as he took in the state of your body, then you lifted the hem of show him the small of your waist, also covered in black and blue hand prints.

"If they didn't already lose their jobs, I'd be losing mine right about now." He admitted his anger. "Do you feel like you need some medical help? We have private doctors, they're very nice. I could stay with you the whole time."

Your heart warmed that he remembered another one of your fears, but you still shrugged. "I don't know what I need."

"That's okay" He continued massaging your wrists. "How about we get you out of here and more comfortable at my place then we'll reassess in a bit?"

You nodded in agreement, feeling so thankful that this mess was over and that Steve lived so close. Just as you were about to get up, he slipped in more comforting words.

"I know this is an awful circumstance, but I really am so happy to see you." He admitted.

You slid your wrists out of his hold to grab his hands with yours instead. "I'm happy to see you too" You nodded, more tears falling down your cheeks. "I didn't really even know if you were alive until now."

His eyes softened as he realized he hadn't been seen in the public eye since Thanos snapped, and all his attempts to reach out to you had failed in one way or the other. You didn't even get to know that he did answer the phone when you called.

"I'm so sorry" he cautiously apologized. "You can't get rid of me that easily"

"Thank goodness for that"

Steve stood up and held his hands out for you, you took them once more and he very carefully helped you up. You stumbled upon standing, getting used to being up on your own feet again while feeling so weak from lack of anything in your body, but you caught your balance.

"I've got you" Steve reassured once again. "Everyone is gone by the way, it's just Natasha out there waiting for us."

"What happened to everyone else?" You asked, trying hard not to externally flinch every time Steve moved, his hand cautiously and lightly resided on your lower back. You could tell he was worried that you would fall or else he definitely wouldn't be touching you right now.

"Getting fired" Steve answered honestly, guiding you out of the door.

As you stepped out of the room and turned the corner of the hallway out into the main reception area, you saw Natasha who lit up with a warm smile.

"Sugar cookie, you poor thing" She approached, reaching out to you slowly, squeezing your shoulders before tucking some of your hair behind your ears. "I'm so happy you're okay."

The nickname reminded you of Sam that one night that felt like lifetimes ago, and it pulled your lips upwards into the tiniest smile that prevailed through the tears.

"It's nice to see you again, Nat" You tried to keep up the smile in attempts to be warm to someone who meant a lot to Steve, but it was impossibly hard. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course, anytime." Nat nodded, stepping in front of you to lead you back to their home.

No matter how exciting a grand tour of the fucking Avengers Compound would've been for a small town girl like you, there was an unspoken agreement that now was not the time.

Steve didn't even really find it appropriate to show you around the living space yet before ushering you straight to his room, and getting you set up for the only thing you could actually express want for which was a shower.

After some reassurance that he would be right there waiting for you when you were done, you let hot water calm you before changing into the comfort of Steve's clothes and shyly walking into his room.

It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated, and so much cozier that you thought was possible in a building that felt so cold and mechanical. And just as promised, he was there for you. He sat on his bed, back against the headboard, laptop in front of him and he was talking to someone on the phone.

You listened as you slowly walked over, still feeling like your guard was up and three miles high.

"Yes, we have her." Steve said. "I can confirm she's very much alive and doing okay- relatively unharmed... yes sir.... I'll have her home soon. Yes sir... okay, thank you."

He hung up the phone and put it on his bedside before closing his laptop and doing the same, then all his attention was back on you with a kind grin across his lips.

Unexpectedly to Steve, you walked right up to him. He looked at you with a little concerned pinch in his eyebrows before you got on the bed and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"Awwwww" Steve audibly cooed, uncontrollably smiling and very cautiously wrapping his arms around your back. "Sweet girl."

"I missed you, baby." You said quietly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you too, so so much" He rubbed comforting stripes down your spine. "I'm so happy to have you here. Are you starting to feel better?"

"A little" You confirmed.

Just in the very short amount of time you've spent since reuniting, even in your scared, clouded brain you could see the guilt looming over Steve and Natasha's heads. You didn't even know if you should bring up what happened, or how to even begin asking him how life has been treating him since the last time you were together.

"It's gonna take some time." He told you as a reminder to keep being easy on yourself. "I just got off the phone with the chief of police in Greenwood, apparently nobody filled them in on the situation so there's been a search party out for you for two days now."

"Can we just tell everyone I was kidnapped?" You asked, half joking. "That's easier than what actually happened."

"I would 100% count that as an abduction."

"And I was saved by Captain America and Black Widow."

Steve giggled and pressed a kiss into your temple. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, fully letting each others bodies comfort your minds as the passed few months had been nothing but painful.

But you found the courage to lift your head and look at his face, your heart was beating out of your chest even just by really looking at him.

The fading scar, his big blue eyes, the bare cheeks you weren't used to seeing. It all told a story of what he had been through, and your couldn't even begin to grasp it. You were lying in the arms of a man who had just been hurt by the hands of the titan who destroyed half the universe. He had seen the unimaginable, been hurt by beings you'd never even come close to, fought battles for the sake of the universe with the two hands that were holding you close.

It suddenly felt so stupid to be so emotionally destroyed over the nature of your arrest, especially when he was looking right back at you.

"You look good, honey." You complemented, bringing your hand up to trace the scar on his forehead. "A lot different, but still so beautiful."

"I think you've gotten even prettier" Steve complemented.

"Wow, that's shocking" You genuinely smiled. "All I've been doing for the passed few months is staying inside and eating spicy Doritos."

"They're so much better than the normal ones" Steve commented.

"Right?!" You agreed. "Dare I ask you how you've been?"

Steve sighed, his lips pressed into a straight line. "I'll tell you all about it when you're in a little bit of a better place, but all you need to know about it right now is that after it happened I made sure you were still here the very second I could, then after that we just kept trying and haven't stopped since."

"So you've been busy?" You questioned, once again feeling warmed over his thoughtfulness and genuine care over your well-being.

"Yeah, I've been busy." he nodded. "And for whatever it's worth, I hope you've been okay despite what happened."

"I think we're all just trying our best, and that's all we can do."

Steve nodded, trying to think of words to acknowledge the Avengers failure. He promised they would keep you safe, and although you're right here in front of him, there was a 50% chance you could've been gone. Even after you survived the blip, you still were put in a situation that was unsafe by people who worked under the same wing as him. Not only did the Avengers fail, but he failed you.

Now you were here with him, in a place he never would've imagined you in. Your body covered in bruises and his sweatpants, red eyes and nose, and a sad facial expression that would take a while to dissolve.

He really thought that getting absolved of his crimes from the civil war would wash away the guilt he's always felt since as long as he could remember, but now he had a whole new criteria in front of him. A whole new binder stuffed full of pages written with ways he's fucked up, hurt and lost the people he loved. Each page was laminated and slotted into plastic sheet protectors just to make sure he never forgot what was said and done.

His mind ran away from him, guilt ate him away until he felt your soft lips on his and it pulled him right back. Closed eyes and a sigh of relief, being with you was the first time in a while he felt any sense of control. It was as though he was a helium balloon floating through the air, and you caught him and tied the string around your wrist.

"You tried your best, too." You reminded him, seeing his internal battle. Your lips brushing against his.

"We killed him." Steve blurted out. "We lost, but we killed him."

You sat up slightly, trying to process this information. It was obvious the public wasn't being informed of everything, and although Steve wanted to protect your peace, he just couldn't keep that information in.

"What?" You blinked, cocking your head to the side.

"Thanos." Steve confirmed. "We went to a planet that he was hiding away on and we killed him."

You weren't sure what he wanted you do get out of that information, or where he was going with it, but you tried your hardest to understand.

"I was just so... angry. I was thinking about you, and I lost Sam, Bucky- we thought if we got the stones back we could just snap again and everyone would come back but when we got there, they were destroyed. We missed them by one day." Steve explained. "That was our second and only chance, we failed twice. Thor took his head clean off."

"Steve-" you started, but he cut you off.

"We're not giving up but spirits have been very low, morale around here has never been so drab, and I think that's why those agents took their anger out on you. Everyone is just angry."

"Im not angry." You told him.

"I'm sorry" Steve apologized, shaking his head. "You've been through hell and back recently, and I feel like all of it has been because of me, and I'm sorry for that."

"None of this is your fault" You denied. "And I'd do it a thousand times over for you, Honey. You tried your best, you've always done the best you've could and you've done great things because of it. I'm thankful for you."

"Who did you lose?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter" Just like he felt the need to protect you, you needed to protect him. "Not right now at least."

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "What is Greenwood like?"

"Well," you sat up more and grinned. "Everyone was very excited that good ol' Cap was in town so your driveway is full of love letters and flowers just for you."

"Awwwww, did Georgia leave me one too?" He joked.

You audibly laughed out loud, "the only thing Georgia sent you was me."

"No way" His eyes got big, mouth hung open.

"Way" you nodded.

"She reported us?" He questioned, stunned at this information.

"Then watched me get taken away, drinking tea like it was a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater." You explained.

"That little-" Steve started, but stopped himself before puffing out a breath. "Ugh! Why!?"

You giggled at his discipline, "not everyone can handle all of your greatness, baby."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve rolled his eyes. "Should I go knock on her door when I get to Greenwood and tell her about how you were found innocent?"

"I think she would beat you with a fly swatter" You smiled.

"I've been shot a few times, I think it would be worth the beating to see the look on her face." Steve giggled.

"Always up to no good, baby." You shook your head with a playful grin.

"It's what I'm known for" Steve agreed.

"I have a question." You said shyly, hands playing with the fabric of his flannel button up.

"What's up?" He welcomed your curiosity.

"So, you're going to take me home but is there anyway you can stay? Even just for a day or two?" The thought of leaving him so soon after you had just got him back was hurting your heart.

"You know, I actually had a visit to Greenwood planned in a week? It was on the team calendar and everything." He told you.

"Really?" You smiled, just the thought made you happy.

"Yeah, I made myself unavailable for the Avengers for three weeks. I thought some time away from here and time with you would be good for me." He explained. "But I'll talk with the team and see if I can just extend it."

"Even if you can't, I'm more than happy now"

"I was thinking maybe you can stay the night here and I'll take you back tomorrow morning? I know it's been a long few days and you probably just want to go home but, if you think you need a doctor there's one just down the hall." He explained.

"Anything to spend more time with you" You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe Georgia unknowingly did us a favor. Because know you're completely clean of any crime and we finally get a few more minutes." Steve grinned, kissing the top of your head.

"And when you come back to Greenwood we won't have to hide anymore." You pointed out.

"I'm so happy" Steve couldn't control his smile. "But I'll be even happier once I know you're okay."

"I'm feeling so much better now" You admitted. Hungry? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. But, "I always feel so safe when you're around."

"I love you so much" He held you just a little tighter, with more confidence it wasn't going to scare you.

"I love you too" You nuzzled into him.

"Okay, now let me catch you up on everything you need to know before being around the Avengers for a day..."

"Oh no" You settled in for what you assumed would be some interesting pointers as he reached for a throw blanket and put it over the two of you.

"They're an interesting bunch, well, half bunch...and there might be a talking Raccoon that comes around..."

Next Part: Homecoming

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama

Have any thoughts or theories? Head cannons or scenarios you want me to write of nomad Steve and baker reader? Submit them to my inbox! I’ll add them to the more fun stuff masterlist here!

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - February 11th - Week

I’m traveling this weekend for my niece’s quinceanera so I’m sharing a list of my favorite fics that I posted on twitter last year. It’s still some of my favorite fics of all time, so this week go show them some love or send me some of YOUR favs, and I’ll be back next Sunday with our regularly scheduled weekly reading. 

~*~ 

Open Field in Front of Him by orphan_account

Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

In Trouble Deep by FestiveFerret, SirSapling

"Whoever did this has a reason, and Stark needs to be with someone who can protect him. He won’t exactly be able to protect himself like this.” Fury looked at the baby consideringly. “No, it’s you, Steve. Besides, he likes you. Suck it up, soldier, you’re stuck with him.”

The Twice-Told Tale by arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

Bulletproof by foxxcub

At age fifteen, Steve Rogers had been in love with Tony Stark.

By age twenty, he’d (mostly) gotten over it. And then he promptly became Tony Stark's fuck buddy.

dick drunk by mistymountainking

“I’m going to fuck you stupid,” Steve says, pulling away only a fraction of an inch to say it, a promise as deep and certain as the look in his eyes, “and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Tony.”

Tony wants a drink. Steve gives him something else.

Sixpence In His Shoe by scifigrl47

Steve and Tony should really read the fine print on what they're signing. Then again, some mistakes are not really mistakes.

Straight on till Morning by Sineala

Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive.

But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything.

For the Love of a Dragon by Captain_Panda

If it was between you and your dragon, who would you save?

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but love requires real courage. Steve struggles with letting someone into his life. Tony tries to keep his heart intact while Steve works on his issues.

Craving a realistic depiction of a romantic relationship featuring PTSD, mental health issues, and characters who discuss their problems? This might be for you. No magic fixes here but a happy ending is guaranteed!

Never Too Late for Love by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

Toy Soldiers by copperbadge

When Steve Rogers, five foot four and a hundred and ten pounds, met Tony Stark in a bar, he didn't expect it to lead to a relationship. Or that Tony would find out he's not an art student during a SHIELD rescue mission in Afghanistan.

there are still beautiful things by meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

I've got you under my skin by sirona

Five times Beijing 2008 Olympics Gold Medalist Tony Stark thinks it's going to be no more difficult a job to get ready for London 2012, than what he has just achieved. That is, of course, before Coach Fury comes to visit, and offers him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a part of something much bigger than himself. Swimming AU.

The Foodieverse by copperbadge, scifigrl47

It's an AU where everyone works in the food industry. That makes total sense and is definitely not wildly irrational on any axis.

do you fondue? by calciseptine

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

Homefront by copperbadge

Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

stress relief by romanoff

They don't love each other. They barely even like each other.

The Jar by Sineala

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

Celestial Navigation by sabrecmc 

Celestial Navigation: 18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

By request, here is CN in one place without other stories and artwork.

ad astra by Areiton 

The first time he kissed Tony Stark, the stars danced overhead.

[andvys]

I’m doing good! Better 😊 how have you been?

1. That’s so valid, I have a playlist dedicated to the bad days/my mental illness “maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s ptsd” with my favorite sad songs to just enhance the mood 😂 it might be a little dark but gotta make jokes where I can lol

2. As a hardcore Eddie fan I so so want him to be back 🫠 but in the ST subreddit they were theorizing about Steve being Kas and the theory had me a little tooo excited because what if he turned heel and was the villain 😩 vamp Steve would be so hot

But if he died I would lose it and ignore that tidbit like I have ignored Eddie’s death 😅

3. I don’t blame you!! I love both their characters so much and this is really the only fandom I’ve read fanfic for 🤭 helps when you always write such great stories for them

-🍒🌸

I'm glad you're doing better!! ♡ I'm okayyyy!!!

honestly I totally get that, we just need the darkness even more when we're sad lmao

OH. I was just talking about villain!steve with my friend the other day and... I would not mind it, at all. I would love to see him turn a little dark hehe (but with a happy ending ofc, I cannot handle anything else)

BUT SAME! whatever happens in season 5, Eddie and Steve keep living on 🥰

They're just the best men! I love writing for them so much!

[namorthesubmariner]

Thoughts on Namor's characterization in Chip Zdarsky's Invaders?

It's a mixed bag, while I think Zdarsky had a good start unfortunately it really floundered in the end, but when you take into account that Zdarsky started this idea as a Namor solo project that Marvel rejected, so he had to add in the Invaders it makes more sense for why it felt so off as an Invaders title.

Namor being the "mad king" of the seas is nothing new, and while I appreciate the attempt at explaining away Namor's missing years, the Peterson family, the Xavier mind manipulation. It's an interesting concept, plus Namor got to have some queer coding with Randall, and the effects of his PTSD was sorta explored.

Where the book falls apart for me is towards the end, specifically issue 11, in that issue Namor is turned human and is suddenly helpless, relies on Steve for survival, as if Namor hadn't been turned human before, which he has. Turning Jim against Namor earlier even though it was Jim who sought out Steve to help Namor. Jim and Namor's relationship is much stronger than Namor and Steve's so to have Steve sorta usurp that as if he and Namor were the best of friends doesn't work.

"I know you are good but everyone wants you dead, even Jim" Again in the beginning Steve didn't want to help, it was Jim who pushed Steve to it.

In general just Steve berating Namor, talking down to him, pushing aside his concerns to be the morally superior one is something that's affected both characters for a long time in the comics. But again, I'm used to that, what really drove me away from committing to liking Zdarsky's Namor is how he couldn't commit to his vision, which I feel was a Namor who under mind control damages the world/people's lives and has to live with that, who's dream of a safe future is actually a nightmare. He writes Namor as this very pessimistic, worn down, character who shoulders the blame that isn't his but then turns around and decides he won't shoulder that blame anymore.

Zdarsky can't decide if Namor should be blamed for his mind control/manipulation by Xavier or if he shouldn't. The writer has Steve once again become Namor's "moral compass" and tell him what to do, how to do it, why he's wrong. It gets tiring to see it but mostly this last issue really couldn't decide if Namor should be absolved or not. It doesn't take into account Namor's previous characterization and seems to play off a version that's doesn't have that surety of self that Namor usually has.

It's not the first time he's been possessed or had his mind taken over. Zdarsky's Namor is a mixed bag, he's all at once a sympathetic character whos is dealing with decades long trauma coming back to hit him at once but also he's a cruel character who suddenly decides that he's totally innocent/not to blame for anything?

Issue 11 ends with Namor and Steve teaming up to take responsibility for the mess that was made and fix it, but then issue 12 has Namor once again rejecting his part in it??? He lays the blame on his team mates instead.

The dynamics are off between the Invaders team as well because frankly I don't think Zdarsky can write the Torches well, so Jim and Toro suffered, and they are the heart of the team so that affects the rest of the characters.

In the end I personally feel there were some good aspects but mostly it just had a slightly off character reading for most of the people involved except Steve and Bucky who were most in character.

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 52. retraining.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

"Tell me, Mr. Rogers," the kind young lady had said as she sat beside me in one of the light brown armchairs in the living room, holding a small notepad on her lap where she was jotting down points from our first discussion together.

"You can call me Steve," I had interjected at that point, causing her to look up for a moment and smile. Her eyes shined with a certain gentleness through their soft shades of grey and blue, helping me to relax ever so slightly through the daunting interview.

"Steve," she corrected, nodding politely. "Tell me, Steve, what are your biggest worries for Willa? Or what are the challenges you find most serious when it comes to her emotional and behavioral wellbeing?"

"Oh god," I had said, shaking my head at the overwhelming question. "I... I don't even know where to begin. I mean... she's just been through so much. And even though she's been out of captivity for a decent amount of time, she still functions as if she's in constant danger. I just don't know how to show her that she's safe, that she can let her walls down now and let me take care of her."

"That makes sense," Jenny had said, scribbling down a few more lines on her notepad. "I'm planning on completing a proper set of evaluations to offer a clinical diagnosis, but from what I've already spoken with Dr. Banner about, my best guess is that she's probably developed a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Given the nature of the trauma she endured, it'll likely take a lot of time and therapy to help her overcome some of the emotional barriers she's built up as defense mechanisms."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," I had mumbled.

"Do you have any idea of where you'd like to start? Because she is so young, and you're her primary caregiver, I'd like to involve you as much as possible in her treatment as long as you feel comfortable participating."

"Of course," I had agreed, "I want to do whatever I can to help. And as far as where to begin... I'm not sure. I think the thing I worry about the most at the moment is Willa's inability to accept help. There have been several occasions where she's hurt herself or gotten herself into a situation where she's needed assistance, but she's just been too terrified of coming to me for help to actually let me know. And when I've realized it and tried to help her, she's resisted me as much as she could. I'm not exactly sure where her fear comes from, but I'm assuming it's rooted in what Hydra did to her and how they must've trained her to not ever ask for things." After pausing for a moment, I had added, "I mean, I guess it's not even just asking for help. It's really asking for anything. If I try to get her opinion on something, or ask her what she wants to do for the day, she'll clearly be thinking of an answer, but completely unwilling to share it at all."

"That does sound very problematic," Jenny had nodded, "even though she's trying her best not to be. It makes me think of a few specific documents I read out of her files from Hydra; they were recordings of training sessions she went through that had originally been written in another language, so Dr. Banner wasn't able to understand them. After running them through a translator, they revealed that when she was a toddler, her captors had put her through electric shock treatment to train her to not seek help or comfort." My heart had dropped into the pit of my stomach when she revealed this, but I simply nodded, sensing she had more to share. "They would put a shock collar on her, similar to one that might be used on a dog, and set her on the floor. A few feet away, they would place something she might have wanted. Sometimes it was food, after they had starved her for days. Other times, it was a person. Initially, her instincts would drive her to approach another human in hopes of being held or interacted with, as children that small naturally need and seek affection. But as soon as she would move towards them, or the food, or whatever it was she was being trained with, she would be electrocuted through the neck. Eventually, this changed the fundamental patterns in her brain so that she would no longer pursue things she wanted or needed. They continued the treatment until she would cower back in fear as soon as the food was placed down on the floor."

"Oh my god," I had breathed out, angry tears built up in the back of my eyes. "And she was just a toddler?"

"I believe the training began when she was two," the doctor replied. A sick, nauseous feeling bubbled up in my stomach as I processed the information I had been given. No wonder why she never asks for help, never asks for anything, for that matter, I had thought to myself. "It wouldn't surprise me if as soon as she's offered help or faced with having to ask for things now, she's automatically reminded of her experiences and even still physically feels what her body was put through during that training. Even though concrete memories aren't generally formed during toddlerhood, the body simply has fascinating ways of remembering traumas from any age."

"My poor Willa," I had mumbled in defeat, absolutely disgusted by what Hydra had put her through. "Now I feel bad for not being more patient with her; I had no idea something that horrific had happened to make her afraid of me in that way. How do we- how can I help her? How can I show her that it's safe now, that she won't ever be put through anything like that again?"

"Well, it's going to be a long process," Jenny had admitted. "But what I can tell you is that every time she experiences something that contradicts her past experiences, her brain is relearning the ways of the world. This process is called 'reparenting'; I am assuming Dr. Banner might have mentioned it to you?" I nodded, having recognized the term. "It's going to be very hard and very frightening for her for a long time. And the fear might never go away completely. But eventually, little by little, she should start building up more confidence in her safety with you. The most important thing will be for you to always be as patient and gentle with her as you can, as this is what her brain will be replacing all of her previous experiences with."

"Okay, that makes sense," I had said. "How do I start? What can I do?"

"There are some exercises you can run through with her; they're similar to exposure therapy, but more trauma-centered and focused directly on reparenting. I'll give her a simple one today at the end of our session together, something that hopefully won't feel like too much to start out with. I'll let you run it with her, just the two of you, and next time we meet, we can discuss how it went."

"Alright. An exercise?" I had asked, not completely understanding what she meant.

"I'll just give her something to ask you for. If you'd like, you can initiate it with her after I leave so that she doesn't have the pressure of bringing it up herself." I nodded, the idea making sense as something that might help slowly easing her into growing more comfortable with advocating for herself.

"Great. I'll be sure to do it with her then," I had promised the doctor.

Which brings me to this moment, in which Willa is standing before me, her big green eyes filled with tears as she stares at the hard-wood floor beneath her bare feet, her bottom lip trembling violently as she attempts to swallow down her fear. Jenny left about an hour ago, and I was sure to give the little girl a bit of time to recover and breathe before deciding to bring up the exercise with her. Just moments ago, I called her into the kitchen, and as soon as I told her I wanted to try the exposure, as the doctor had called it, her mood went completely out the window.

"Sweetheart," I say as I kneel down just a few feet away from the shaking child, keeping my voice as soft and unintimidating as I can. "Remember when Jenny talked to you today about trying to ask Daddy for something? Did she talk to you about that?" I remind her. Not daring to look up at me, the little girl's terrified body language immediately gives away the answer to my (probably pointless) question. "Hey, Willa-bug," I murmur, an image popping up in my head of the poor child's neck wrapped in an electric collar, helping me maintain the gentle disposition I need. "It's okay, peanut; you can do it. You can always ask Daddy for things, okay? You'll never be in trouble for it, never ever," I promise, but unsurprisingly, my words seem to do little to change her mind.

"P-please," the poor thing whimpers, the word seeming to be her go-to plea when she's too afraid to say much of anything else.

"'Please' what, baby?" I coo, hating to see her so distraught. "There's no need for 'please's with me, sweetheart," I remind her carefully, "there's no scary here, Willa. No scary at all."

"Please, please don't," she begs, a single tear trailing down to the tip of her rosy nose as she sniffles quietly. "Jenny said you-... you're gonna retrain me; please don't g-get the collar, please don't."

"Retrain you?" I ask, my brow furrowing immediately in concern. "Willa, sweetheart, did she explain to you what that means? It's not the same kind of training you did with Hydra, honey. It's retraining your brain to not be scared of- hey, sweetheart, hey," I hum, only growing more worried as the little girl's chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly, her panic clearly escalating despite my efforts to reassure her.

"P-please, please don't," she hiccups again fearfully.

"There's no collar, Willa. We don't do that here, of course we don't. The retraining just means we're gonna show you it's safe, doll. The whole point of the exposure is to teach your brain that it's safe."

"N-no collar, please no c-collar," she mumbles.

"No collar," I coo, "can you ask me, sweetheart? Nobody's gonna put a collar on you; you're just gonna ask and it's gonna be safe for you, I promise."

Sucking in a shaky breath, Willa squeezes her eyes shut, taking a long pause before finally finding the courage to say, "W-will you-... please... c-can-... Willa and Daddy-... Willa and D-Daddy-..." Sniffling, she gasps for another breath before finishing, "you-... I-I-... snuggles?" Silent sobs begin wracking through the little child's body as she waits in anticipation, her entire body tensed up and ready to receive whatever punishment is coming.

But against her predictions, I simply wrap the small girl up in my arms warmly, lifting her into the air as I rise to my feet and cradle her close to my chest. Rocking her back and forth as I begin to brush her hair down gently with my hand, I murmur soothing words to the child. "Shhh," I ease, coaxing her head softly against my shoulder as I hold her safely, her whole body shaking as I grant her request. "Of course we can snuggle, Willa-bug. You're my snuggle bear, after all; aren't you?" I croon gently, my quiet words of comfort slowly beginning to help her relax. "Here, how about we cuddle up in Daddy's bed? It's the biggest one in the house," I suggest as I carry the sweet girl back through the apartment to my bedroom, walking over and pulling back the blankets and sheets atop the mattress.

"D-Daddy's bed," Willa stutters quietly as I climb in with her still cradled closely to me, resting back against the pillows and pulling the soft blankets up over us as she snuggles warmly into my chest. "Big."

"Big bed, that's right," I agree. "Lots of space to snuggle."

"N-no collar," she says carefully, the fear almost completely gone from her voice.

"No collar," I confirm, brushing back her hair with a soothing hand as one of her thumbs finds its way into her mouth. "No collar ever, sweetie. I promise you; I pinky promise." Wrapping my little finger around her own, I lean down, planting a kiss on her head.

"Scratchy pinky p'omise," she tells me at the gentle roughness of my beard grazing over her bare skin. Looking up at me with wide eyes, I'm able to relax slightly as I see a hint of playfulness shining in the little girl's gaze.

"Scratchy, huh? You don't like Daddy's new beard?" I raise my eyebrow in jest.

"No, still like it," she assures me, rubbing her little forehead against the coarse hair lovingly. "Daddy looks so han'some. Bucky told me- m-my daddy's the mos' han'some man in the world."

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[sleepyeye17]

Safe Space

Read on AO3 here, or below

Words: 2,415

Summary: Steve and Eddie are both triggered by fireworks on the fourth of july, and have to comfort each other.

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks

When Eddie was a child, he’d found a black baby rabbit caught in a mousetrap. He’d taken it home and nursed it to health. It had lived a few more months, but it had always been a skittish thing, and had liked to burrow in Eddie’s blankets. Sometimes Eddie would hold it inside his jacket, and feel the rapid thumping of its heart, so fast he was worried it might have a heart attack and die. Eventually that’s what happened. The bunny’s tiny heart had gone too fast and stopped.

That was how Eddie felt now, lying on the bathroom floor, the shower running in an attempt to drown out the sounds of the fireworks. He was curled up in a pile of blankets, listening to the fireworks whistle and bang outside. He was drenched in sweat, unsure if it was because of the stifling heat of the blankets or the terror that shot through him with every explosion.

The survivors of the Battle of Starcourt were all going to the ruins, as was their tradition. Last year Max had still been in the hospital, but the other kids had gone and they’d all gotten drunk for the first time, and cried, and played music. Now they were bringing Max with them. They’d invited Eddie, but he thought it was better for it to just be the original survivors.

Wayne was at the Mayfield place, helping Missus Mayfield through another anniversary of Billy’s death. Eddie had insisted that he go, promising that he’d be fine, and that he’d probably hang out with Gareth. Then the fireworks had started, and Eddie had realized that he couldn’t go anywhere.

The lab had assigned Eddie a therapist, who’d been helping him through panic attacks. She’d helped him design his “safe space”; a little room in his mind where he could retreat from the panic. It was similar to where Max had gone to escape from Vecna, but this wasn’t rooted in memory. This was pure fantasy. Eddie had always been better with fantasy. The therapist had been a little bit confused when he’d told her his safe space was the Shire, but she’d rolled with it.

Another firework went off, shaking his windows.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

Eddie inhaled, then exhaled. He wished he still smoked.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

His phone rang, jolting him out of his meditation.

“Jesus!” He reached for the phone by his bed with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“What? Is that Dustin?”

“Have. You. Heard. From. Steve.”

“No. Why?”

“He was supposed to be here. We’re with Max at the ruins. Steve was supposed to join us.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

Dustin didn’t dignify that with an answer, and Eddie could feel his disdainful look through the phone.

“Fine,” Eddie said. “I’ll swing by his place.”

“ Thank you.”

“Tell Max I’m taking her to the skate park tomorrow.”

Dustin had designed a set of trick wheels for Max’s chair, and she was learning how to do some skating moves with it.

“I will. Thanks. Call me at this number when you find him, okay?”

He gave Eddie the number, and Eddie scrawled it on the inside of his arm.

Now that Eddie had a mission, he felt slightly less insane. This was always the case. When he’d first moved in with Wayne at age ten, he’d been almost catatonically depressed. But when his uncle had asked him for help with something, he’d suddenly find himself doing it. Out of bed, at the store, making dinner. When he’d started high school he’d pretended that Hellfire was his way of welcoming the losers and outcasts, rather than trying to find friends himself. Helping himself had always seemed a bit pointless. Helping others was more worthwhile.

He pulled himself out of bed, taking his blankets with him. He’d go, but he wasn’t pretending to be okay. He was no hero. He still needed his blankie, and he wasn’t ashamed of that.

Steve lived nearby now, in the apartment building that had been built where the motel had once been. Steve and Wayne lived in the old Hopper trailer near the lake. In order to get to Steve’s house, though, Eddie would need to go past the fairground where the firework display was being set. There was no way in hell Eddie could do that drive without getting in an accident. He had to go the long way, around the cemetery and the high school. It took him twice as long, but the drive calmed him slightly. Clutch. Downshift. Break.

Then the sky turned red with the glow of fireworks, and Eddie instinctively hit the gas, nearly going off the road.

“Shit!”

He braked fast and rested his head against the steering wheel.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

He inched forward the rest of the way to Steve’s apartment. By the time he parked, his hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel and his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth.  

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

He ran up to Steve’s apartment, his blankets dragging behind him like a cape. He could see that all the lights were on. He knocked on the door.

“Steve! Are you there?”

There was no answer, so he knocked louder.

“Steve, it’s Eddie! Open up!”

There was another crack of fireworks, and the sky glowed for a moment. Eddie shouldn’t have come. He should have called Joyce or Murray or anyone remotely capable of basic functioning.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.

He pounded on the door with his fist.

“For fucks sake, just let me in before I shit myself!”

The door swung open and Eddie toppled in after it, landing solidly into Steve Harrington's chest.

“ Oonf !”

Steve’s warm hands gripped Eddie’s shoulders.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve’s voice was a hoarse croak. Eddie stepped back and looked at him. His face was red, and his eyes were swollen. His hair was plastered to his sweaty face.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?”

Steve blinked at Eddie blearily. He shook his head, and Eddie was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me, big boy," Eddie said. "Are you sick?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think so. Why are you here?”

“Dustin called. He’s worried about you.”

Another blast went off, and Steve jolted like he’d been shot.

“Let me call Dustin and tell him you’re not coming.”

“I’ll be there! I’m just— just running late.” Steve looked around frantically, like he was trying to find his bag. Eddie put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve. We’re not going anywhere. Okay? We’re going to stay right here.”

Steve’s mouth crumpled, and he reached up to cover it with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Alright, that’s it. Here we go.” Eddie gripped Steve by the shoulder and pulled him through the tiny apartment to the bathroom. Steve followed dazedly. “Have you eaten? Did you drink anything? Take anything?”

Steve shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

“Had an ibuprofen for a headache. Had a beer. That’s all.”

“When did you last sleep?”

Steve thought about this.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Okay.” Eddie turned the shower on at full blast. Steve blinked up at him. “You don’t have to shower,” Eddie said, “But the noise will help. I’m going to call Dustin.”

Steve was still sitting on the bathroom floor when Eddie came back, holding a glass of water. Dustin had been understanding on the phone. They’d all had their bad spells.

Steve was curled up in a little ball, his arms wrapped tight around his legs. Eddie slid down beside him. They sat in silence and listened to the sound of the shower go. Finally Eddie took a deep breath.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked.

Steve sniffed and rubbed his nose on his arm.

“When Nancy dumped me, I said, ‘ I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m a damn good babysitter.’ And for the past three years, that’s been sort of my mantra. At least I’m a good babysitter. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to do that’s worthwhile.”

Eddie wanted to argue this point, but he held his tongue.

“Turns out… I’m not good at this either,” Steve said.

“Not good at what?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of the kids. I should be there, helping. But instead…”

He flapped his hands helplessly at the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Oh, Stevie.” Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in. Steve slumped sideways, bonelessly. “Nobody can fix this. Nobody can.”

Steve collapsed in, folding himself against Eddie’s chest as he cried.

If someone had told Eddie two years ago that he’d be here with his arms around Steve Harrington, he’d have asked them what they were smoking. He’d wanted to touch Steve for so long. He felt drawn into Steve’s orbit like an asteroid. He had to admit that his fantasies had involved more passion and less panic attacks.

Steve cried noisily, his shoulders heaving with sobs. Eddie did the only thing he could think of. He started reciting The Hobbit.

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.”

Eddie recited as much as he could from memory, his hand on the warm planes of Steve’s shoulders. Slowly, Steve’s crying began to relax into gentle snuffling. Occasionally the sound of a firework outside would make them both jump, and Eddie’s voice would falter.

“The best rooms were all on the left hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.”

Steve took a deep breath, as if testing to see if his crying was truly finished. Eddie released his grip on Steve's back, allowing him to sit up. Steve yawned. His eyes were puffy from tears and sleeplessness.

“Better?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded, then shook his head.

“I should be with them.”

“No. No, you should be here.”

“The kids need me tonight.”

“Not as much as I do.” The words were out before Eddie could stop them. Shit. He could feel himself turning red. Steve stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“You know what I was doing before Dustin called?” Eddie asked. “I was on my bathroom floor, reading The Hobbit out loud to myself and trying not to absolutely lose it.”

Steve managed half a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I imagine that fireworks would affect you more strongly, considering you were at the mall that night.”

Steve exhaled.

“I don’t see how the kids are so okay, and I’m such a mess.”

“Probably because they let other people help them. Unlike someone I know.”

Steve yawned again. Eddie smiled.  

“It’s hard feeling useless,” Steve said.

“I know. But you’ll never be…” Eddie paused to think, choosing his words carefully. “Steve. You are invaluable .”

Steve wrinkled his nose.

“Un-valuable?”

“Invaluable. It means always valuable.”

“That’s a stupid word.”

Eddie laughed.

“It is, isn’t it.” He fidgeted with his rings. “You are useful a lot of the time. But what I’m saying is that you don’t need a use to have a value.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“A vacuum cleaner has value because it's useful. A song has value because it’s a song. And I’d rather live in a world without vacuum cleaners than a world without music.”

Steve thought about this, pursing his lips. Then he yawned.

“You tired?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded, his chin sinking onto his chest as he did.

“Can’t sleep though.”

“I know. I try to sleep, and then…” Eddie gestured vaguely to his head.

“Yeah. It’s bad.”

Eddie stretched.

“My back hurts. You think we can move to the sofa without pissing ourselves in terror?”

Steve checked his watch.

“It’s nine thirty. Worst is probably over. I’ll put on music or something.”

They exited the bathroom like survivors leaving a fallout shelter, hunched and sweaty, trailing blankets. Steve turned on his tape player, and the soft sound of Avalon started playing. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Avalon? Really?”

“Don’t fuck with me right now,” Steve said with a wobbly smile. “You want me to start crying again? Shut up.”

They collapsed onto the sofa, Eddie sitting with his legs curled under him, Steve sprawled out across the whole thing, his head thrown back. It was disgustingly hot inside, and smelled like rotting food, but a cool breeze was filtering in through the open door.

Eddie was so aware of Steve, sitting close enough for their shoulders and thighs to be touching. Steve blinked sleepily up at the ceiling.

“What were you reading earlier?” Steve asked.

“What? Oh. The Hobbit. My mom used to read it to me whenever I was sick.”

“Do you have the whole thing memorized?”

“No, just the first part. You know that therapist I’ve been seeing? Doctor Davis?”

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her too.”

This was news to Eddie. Steve’s words were slightly slurred from fatigue, and Eddie wondered if Steve would have divulged this if he wasn’t so tired.

“She had me create a safe space. Mine is Bilbo Baggins’s house at Bag End. From the book.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut and he slumped over sideways, his face against Eddie’s neck.

“She had me do the same,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Make a safe space. Took me a long time, but I think—“ Steve yawned and curled into Eddie’s side. “Think I’ve got one.”

“What is it?”

Steve was already asleep, but he managed to mumble out the words.

“Mm. With you.”

[nevermindirah]

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

hi thank you for asking!!

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Does comfort and safety count as a trope? Because I don't just enjoy writing it, I need to write it. Some people process their trauma by writing fucked-up things and I salute them for that. For me, writing mutual trust and carefulness and emotional safety is an important part of my healing. Nile and Booker so quickly and powerfully finding mutual understanding in canon was a very big deal for me and everything I write is extrapolating out from that into endless futures where they're both able to cope with their burdens with less suffering.

We live in a disturbing time of purity culture resurgence where there are very loud annoying voices declaring that there's only one correct way to write relationships, which sucks for a lot of reasons, including that some people might encounter my writing and wonder if this is why I write how I do. It's so profoundly not, but it doesn't help anybody for me to get defensive about it. Some people are going to think that about my writing and not read further and I can be sad about losing potential readers without wasting energy trying to change them or myself. People who do stick around might find some of the same value I do in exploring what's complicated and interesting and sometimes wonderfully boring about characters who make each other feel truly safe.

Nile would've gotten some training as part of her NCO promotion in how to look out for signs of PTSD in her squad and she's probably at least aware of some therapy concepts from having survived her father's death, though whether she ever got any formal grief counseling is headcanon territory. Booker reads a lot and it's easy enough to imagine him branching out from that canonical fiction to mental illness memoirs. My Booker has fallen asleep cuddling An Unquiet Mind at least twice. I know some aspects of my writing are too therapy-speak for some readers' tastes and that's ok. One of the things I'm working on as a writer is reining in the aspects of this that are clearly my voice speaking through the characters and getting better at expressing the things I need for my fics to express in the ways that these specific characters would be most likely to express them.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

Nile and Booker are equally my babies. I've written so enormously much more fic the past few years than I ever imagined I would because both of their voices live in my head so insistently demanding to be shared. Slight edge for Booker over Nile though in one aspect — Christianity is important to Nile, and I know a lot about that worldview and can find that part of her voice, but it's not a fun place for me. Writing Jewish Booker is a special joy.

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

I love Andy and I want to include more of her in my fics, but I struggle like hell getting into her head. It's not necessarily her mind boggling lifespan though, it's the nihilism. That's a worldview I just do not understand. It's honestly sometimes triggering to think about it too much. So I end up writing Andy mostly in small scenes and she rarely feels quite right.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

The scope of TOG canon is so wild that no headcanons feel appropriately out there, so I'll return to my MCU beloved for this one. Sam Wilson owns a house in Petworth and takes the bus or the metro down to the Mall for his morning runs. This is a completely insane thing to do on a regular basis. Like close to an hour each way completely insane. Maybe he does it once a week and runs closer to home most other days, but then he met sexy "on your left" jerkface and decided to go again the next day. He wore his skin-tight purple shirt and spent 2 hours on the metro and didn't even see Steve on that second run!! But then Steve showed up in his backyard and it was fine and now maybe Sam has a special dispensation from the FAA to use his wings to get down to the Mall for morning runs when he's in town.

(fanfic writer asks!)

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 3)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 3

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: angst, mentions choking, swearing, implications of previous abuse, ptsd, fluff

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: i got carried away ahaha. also i dont know anything about music or music lingo so pls don't kill me (maybe im an idiot for making a MUSIC SCHOOL AU with no knowledge on music beyond 'hey that song sounds cool lmao) anyway it's gonna start getting fluff n fun soon k bye. not proof read

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

Lunch felt shorter than usual, you could only assume it was the dread making you feel that way. You felt a little better after getting some food into your body, less shaky and more ready to get the day over and done with. You lingered in the hallway outside the class, mentally preparing yourself to enter. Through the small window in the door, you could tell they were setting up for the impromptu performances. One of the A’s must've insisted on a livestream, you could see Scott and Clint fiddling around with a camera. 

The College was very big about its online presence. With the rise of social media and the influencer, it was only natural for the aspiring musicians to get an early taste of fame. Teenagers and adults tuned in around the world to see their live streams, to get a glimpse of the next rockstar before they made it big. You had mainly stayed out of that world, being a classical pianist people tended to not glance your way a second time. You had been on live streams before, most of your assignments were uploaded online somewhere. People weren’t particularly interested in classical pianists though, most of their attention turned to Group A’s future rockstars. It had only been when you had stepped onto that stage to sing as Sharon’s replacement that it felt like the world finally looked back at you. 

You wondered if your mother would be proud. Or disappointed. Your entire childhood had been about singing, the opera, making you into a mini-copy of her. After her death… you were repulsed by it. You fell in love with the piano and never looked back. You didn’t want to be her. You didn’t want to be that corpse. Your father had understood, supported you throughout. A part of you was torn, you had the capabilities to sing… but did you really want to? Your scholarship was for the piano. The Annual Showing, it had been funny at the time. But now with bruises, angry stares and your own sanity on the line? You wanted to fall back to your piano, let the soft notes and tapping of the keys lull you away from all of this. It would be easier that way, to just slip back into the shadows.

“You didn’t wait.” A deep voice broke your brooding.

“Huh?” You ask, looking over to see Bucky and Steve in the hallway next to you. They must’ve returned from lunch late too. You hated that a small part of you felt happy that Bucky was talking to you. You hated that you actually enjoyed his attention.

“At the party. You didn’t wait.” Bucky explains, crossing his arms over his chest. You have to hold back a gulp at the sight of the metal bulging against his shirt. You don’t even reply, instead sucking in a breath and shrugging your shoulders at the two of them. You didn’t know if you could trust yourself to speak in this state. The party, Starks office… god it had done a number on your brain. You were surprised they weren’t repulsed by you because you had embarrassingly shutdown and ran out of that office this morning. Though, something in your stomach told you they didn’t blame you. Steve had stepped in to defend you when Stark had accused you of provoking John. Steve looks between you and Bucky before speaking up. There was a soft guilt in his eyes when he caught your gaze. Your throat felt dry. 

“Look. We’re sorry about what happened.” Steve offers. Swallowing thickly, you arch an eyebrow. Maybe you had mistaken their pity for kindness. 

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you were the one that-” You start with a confused tone but Bucky cuts you off. 

“We sent him over.”

Silence washes over the hallway as you feel shock roll over your body. Steve looks over at Bucky with an irritated expression, like Bucky wasn’t supposed to say that. John hadn’t approached you because he was idiotic and drunk, but because he had been asked to? You had spent the whole weekend stewing over that, why you, why had he chosen you? You had fallen back into that pit of blaming yourself all weekend, anxiety eating away at your core. You had blamed yourself for Loki’s beating, for winning the Annual Showing. It was like those years ago where everything was your fault no matter how hard you tried. Both Bucky and Steve wear guilty expressions as you speak up.

“You sent John over. To do that?” You keep your voice steady, but once again you can feel yourself spiraling. You didn’t know if you were more upset with them or yourself. You had let yourself become consumed by guilt, let yourself slip back into that state of mind where you were always at fault. Maybe if you had been stronger, less damaged, less you… maybe then you wouldn’t be feeling like this. He had told you time again how weak and pathetic you were. You had thought you were doing better, and all it had taken was one nudge and you fell back into that mindset. 

“Listen. Just a few of us thought it would be funny to rile up John and send him your way. Like scare you or whatever… we didn’t think he would do that.” Steve gestures at your bruised neck. You don’t know if you’re there listening or floating outside of your body. They couldn’t have known, wouldn’t have… but it still didn’t make it any better. They had meant to humiliate you, they had wanted to tear you down. You realize you’ve been staring at the wall in silence for a long moment. You were sick of feeling sorry for yourself, sick of crying and hiding. You were sick of the nightmares, the spiral this weekend had sent you on. You were sick of being weak because of your past. Your eyes meet Bucky’s, his brows furrowed as he recognised the anger crossing your face.

“You…What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap. You can’t believe that earlier you had felt bad that they had been dragged to Stark’s office. You can’t believe you felt guilty that you had made them split up that fight. They had started this, they had caused these problems and feelings. The anxiety in your stomach slowly began to boil into rage as you took in the two of them, looking down guiltily like some dogs who had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. They had hurt you, someone they had never bothered to get to know, and expected you to forgive them because they felt bad?

“Look,” Steve says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.  “We just thought it would be a harmless prank, to scare you a bit. We didn’t mean anything by it-”

“What the fuck did I do to you? Why do I deserve to be screamed at and embarrassed for your entertainment?” You spit. Everything dawned on you at that moment. That’s why none of them had lifted a finger to help you at first. They had wanted it to happen, they had wanted you to be scared. They had wanted to scare you, to laugh at you. They had wanted you to feel small and weak, beneath them. 

“After he grabbed your throat we stepped in, we didn’t think he was going to do that.”

“What about with Loki? Were you just going to sit back and watch him get beat to death?” Both of them looked surprised at that comment, almost like they had completely forgotten you weren’t the only victim, or the only one who needed an apology. 

“To be fair, Loki is an asshole-”

“Fuck you.” You seeth, moving to open the door to the classroom when Steve blocks your way. You flinch back, not wanting to be so close to him. Any feelings of butterflies or school girl crushes had left your body, replaced with a burning fire of resentment and fear. You hated that even in your outrage you were still afraid, still scared of what Steve and Bucky could be capable of if they returned your fury. 

“We were drunk and angry. We’re sorry. It was fucked up of us. We were just caught up on how you guys cheated and not how dangerous it could be. We just thought… I don’t know. Scott didn’t tell us about-”

“Steve,” Bucky speaks up, voice low with a tone of warning. He had taken a step away from you, as if he had noticed the way you flinched away. 

“Wow,” You say with a bitter laugh. You can feel your composure beginning to break, wringing your fingers together. Of course, of course they believe you cheated. “You’re really so stuck in that privileged rich boy persona, aren’t you? That just because I’m on scholarship means I must’ve fucked someone not because I have talent-”

“What?” Steve and Bucky say in unison, you take a step back, confused. 

“That’s what John said. Said that I must’ve slept with someone-” You begin to explain.

“What? No! We didn’t say you cheated like that - jesus.” Steve said, with a look of horror. He looks over to Bucky, who was running his human hand over his face, his metal one clenched into a fist.

“John said that to you? What a fucking psycho-” Bucky mutters under his breath. You can only give the two of them another confused look. 

“Wait - what did you think happened then? Why are you going around saying we cheated?” You ask. The two of them just look at each other, Bucky shakes his head as if warning Steve to shut up. 

“We were saying that you must’ve cheated because you can’t sing! It had to be a recording of Sharon that was altered to hit the notes she can’t.” Steve says. You feel yourself laughing bitterly before you can process it. All these cruel words and violence, because someone started a rumor that you couldn’t sing? You have to calm yourself before you can speak, Steve is looking at you like you’ve gone mad, while Bucky looks like he’s ready to give up and walk away.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean… Come on darling. You’re a pianist, you got into this college for piano. You’ve never sung here before - you just expected us to just believe you? Sharon’s a trained singer and even she can’t hit those notes.” 

You ignore the clench in your gut at the word darling. Fucking blond bastard making you feel things other than anger. You can feel another laugh bubbling in your chest. All you can do is shake your head in disbelief. If they had just asked you - had ever bothered to try and interact with you, they would’ve known you could sing. Your entire class knew you were originally a singer, they had heard you sing before. You had never used your voice for assignments because you were a pianist and you didn’t want to step on Sharon’s toes. 

“So you… still think we cheated? You do realize I am about to sing right now? For this stupid performance thing? Which is entirely your fault by the way - if you had just asked, you’d know that I am, well, I used to be a singer?” You say. Bucky laughs - he actually laughs at this interaction. Steve has a mortified expression. 

“I believed you. And Scott did too. Those idiots are just sore losers,” Bucky chuckles as Steve rubs his face with an annoyed expression. All you can do is just roll your eyes. 

“I don’t care if you believed me or not. You’re both assholes.” you say, stepping towards the door. Bucky pulls Steve away so you can reach for the handle without having to touch him. You can see Steve opening his mouth to say something but you cut in before he can. 

“And for the record, I don’t forgive you.”

*

Throughout every performance you were boiling with rage. You had hoped that by the time it was your group's turn to take the stage, that you would’ve calmed down. One look at Natasha’s sneering face had sent you back into seeing only red. All afternoon you had heard them snickering about how you were going to make a fool of yourself, that Group B would expose themselves for cheating (in front of not only Group A - but an entire livestreamed audience). 

While setting up the microphone next to the piano, Peter sends you a look of concern. 

“You gonna okay hitting some of these notes? Not that I doubt your ability - just that you did nearly get choked to death a couple days ago.” He says, adjusting the height of the microphone stand so the microphone sits at mouth level. You muster a comforting smile despite the anger coursing through your veins. 

“It’ll be fine. I got this.” You say quietly, taking your seat in front of the piano. Peter just nods and retreats to the drum set, Yelena and Kate fumbling around with the violin and cello. Your back was mainly turned away from the camera. If you looked in the corner of your eye, you could see the couches where most of Group A were seated. You were kind of grateful for that - you wanted to see their gobsmacked expressions when you hit every note. Sharon was practically bouncing where she stood. Before her solo, you had managed to explain your heated conversation with Steve and Bucky in the hallway. You were thankful that she was as excited as you were to show Group A what fools they were. The song you were performing was a jazz cover, thankfully due to your past singing opera you could quite easily slip into most styles of singing with some practice. Luckily, you had plenty of practice thanks to Sharon. When the jazz assignments were due, you had spent many hours helping Sharon with her notes, or stepping in as singer for the rest of the class if Sharon was busy.

You only had to wait a few more moments before the others motioned that they were ready. You ignored the grins dripping with malice coming from Group A, the snorts and laughs. You put your attention on the black and white keys in front of you. With a sharp exhale, you press your fingers into the keys, starting the song. You always played better when you were angry, or when you were playing for revenge. As you moved, fingers gracefully navigating the keys you could feel the rage pouring out of you into the music. Peter fell in on the drums, and then so did the violin and cello. You had to suppress a smile as it was your cue to start singing. 

The start of the song was slow, basic notes to hit that weren’t too hard. You could hear Natasha scoff and turn to Wanda. 

“Anyone could hit those notes, so what, she can sing the basics? Doesn’t prove anything.” 

You had to zone out Wanda’s reply, instead focusing all your energy into keeping your voice and fingers steady. The one thing you could always guarantee was that when you were in this state of mind, you played like a fucking god. You could see Bucky and Scott grinning as you rocked in time with the music, body moving along each time you pressed the piano’s pedals. 

By the time the first higher note came, you were completely absorbed by the music. You barely even noticed how Natasha’s smile began to drop, the way Sam slapped Steve’s back with a laugh. Your focus was entirely on that note, controlling your breath to sing it out perfectly as your fingers worked along the keys. 

Sharon was grinning from ear to ear, Kate just gaping at you, completely ignoring the sheet music as she pulled her violins bow back and forth. The song slowed again for a brief moment, before Peter came back in with the drums. The finale was why he had been worried about your injured throat, this is where you would show Group A how well you could hit those harder notes. You could’ve hit them even better if you were standing, but your loyalties would always lie with your piano.

Steve looked like he wanted to jump into a hole in the floor, as the realisation dawned on him that not only could you sing (and well) but he had entirely fucked up by questioning you. You could imagine he was holding onto the hope that you had been bluffing, that he wouldn’t have to feel as guilty about what had happened at the party. Natasha was scowling, punching Clint as he twirled in time with the music as you hit note after note. Bucky was just smirking, leaning back in his chair as he watched your fingers work tirelessly. That feeling was back in your gut, that flutter. For how much of an asshole Bucky and Steve had been, why did the idea of impressing them motivate you? 

“Dude! I told you she was trained in singing opera!” You heard Scott boast as you hit one of the longer notes, controlling your breath perfectly until the end. The song finally faded out along with your last note. The room erupted into cheers and clapping, with the exception being a sour-faced Natasha. All you could manage was a smile as you resisted the strong urge to catch Bucky or Steve’s eyes with your own. 

*

After Sharon had spent a good ten minutes gushing about how you had killed it with the vocals, life had moved on. A few of Group A sent you sheepish smiles - a peace offering. You had tried to ignore it, claiming yourself a couch in the back to watch the last of the performances. 

Scott had come over at one point, planting a sloppy kiss to your hairline while you squealed in protest. Natasha had sent you a dirty look for that, telling the two of you to shut up. Scott ignored her, flopping over the couch, nearly landing on your legs as you slapped his shoulder. 

“I have a present for you…” He said in a quiet sign-song voice, grabbing your legs by the knees and placing them over his lap. You rolled your eyes, grinning, so much for brooding in peace.

“Oh yeah?” You said with a quiet giggle, relaxing further into the couch. You and Scott had been friends awhile, smoking buddies. Much like with Loki, you were rather relaxed with touching or cuddling. The two of you had too many deep conversations while high to shy away from each other, if anything Scott probably knew about as much as your therapist. You had told him all about your mother, how her death had changed things… him and everything that had happened. He had returned the favor, telling you private things about his own life that not many others had the pleasure of knowing. 

Scott leaned in close to your ear, whispering for you to reach into his pocket. Inside was a baggie, a pre-rolled blunt inside. You gasp, slapping him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god Scott, don’t show that on stream or Stark will be pissed!” You hiss, shoving the baggie back in. Scott just wheezed a laugh in response, letting you shove him back to his side of the couch. As you stuck your tongue out at him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Steve and Bucky were watching the two of you. Both of them looked on edge, jaws and arms tensed. Were they… jealous?

“Look at this,” Scott laughed from beside you, shoving his phone into your face. Your eyes turned away from the two brooding men as you bit back a laugh and rolled your eyes. 

“Are you laughing at memes… about you?” You ask, handing him the phone back. Scott was rather infamous for having a small subreddit dedicated to making memes about him. He checked and interacted with it religiously. That would be if you could consider anything about Scott religious. 

“Hey! Just because you don’t have any fans!” Scott protested, waving his phone about. You could practically feel Natasha’s scowl on the two of you from across the room. Maybe you’d have to put getting your teeth punched out of your head back on your list of worries.

“Yours just make fun of you!” You protest, gently kicking his thigh with your foot. He just grins at you. Leaning back, he looks up at the ceiling dreamily. 

“I know! It’s great!” He laughs, bouncing his knee underneath where your legs are thrown over his lap.  

You snort and roll your eyes, unlocking your own phone. You try to keep still as Scott jolts the entire couch with his bouncing. The last performance had ended, Sam and Clint working on turning off the livestream as the room suddenly moved into groups. You knew during the performances that people had started calling dibs, you hadn’t really cared to interact or include yourself in anything. You guessed you would end up with Scott, Sharon, Peter and maybe MJ. If anything you were leaving it up to fate, hoping you’d end up with either a group that was interesting or with people you liked. 

“Scott!” Sharon’s voice rang out, motioning the man over. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he pulls himself up from the couch. You let out another squeal as he goes in for a kiss on the cheek, pushing your foot into his stomach to send him away. Natasha was going to fucking kill you.

“Bye Scotty,” You say in a sing-song voice, mocking his voice from earlier. He just shakes his head at you, running his hand through his hair as he looks between you and where Sharon is waiting.

“Are you free after this? This baby won’t smoke itself,” He asks, patting his pocket. You grin up at him, snuggling yourself deeper into the couch now that you have it all to yourself. 

“Oh, are we sharing now? I thought it was a present for me.” You say, fidgeting with the neckline of your sweater. 

“Scott!” Sharon shouts from somewhere across the room. Scott cringes, before leaning over and shaking his finger in your face. 

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Scott says, before reluctantly crossing the room towards Sharon. She scolds him, before giving in as he wraps her into a hug. You bite your tongue to hold back your laugh, flicking your attention down to your phone as you lounge on the couch. Your peace is short lived, though. 

“Siren.” your eyes shoot up from your phone with a scowl, above you stands Bucky, a smirk across his lips. You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together, drinking in his expression. You’re still pissed at him - and Steve - but you can’t help but enjoy the attention from the brunette. 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” You ask, pulling your feet off the couch as Sam crashes onto the other side with a huff. You flinch a bit at that, having not expected to be sitting so closely to a wall of muscle. Their frat house was obsessed with the gym (all except Scott) so they were all ridiculously muscled. You see Bucky’s smirk falter a bit at your flinch, eyes darting over to Sam who seemingly got the message and scoots further over. 

“Barnes has a thing for beautiful women who can sing and also eat a man whole,” Sam says. You fein disgust at that comment, shoving yourself deeper into the corner of the couch to get some distance between you and Sam. That feeling is in your gut again - no, it was lower - what had Bucky said about you to Sam to warrant you being called beautiful? 

“Shut it Wilson,” Bucky growls, to which Sam puts his hands up in fake-surrender with a laugh. “You’re in our group, Siren.”

You pause for a second, noticing how Steve approaches as well. Bucky a drummer, Sam a bassist, Steve a guitarist… and you? Your eyes snap up to Bucky’s. You had to silently remind yourself that you were supposed to be mad at them, that they had fucked up. It was hard when Bucky’s expression softened as he watched you. 

“What?” You ask, pinching your thigh through your jeans. You had to focus, stop falling into dreamy ideas at just a look from either Bucky or Steve. 

“We called dibs. And I mean, you didn’t really involve yourself in the conversation… you were too busy cuddling Scott.” You swear you can hear a bitterness in Bucky’s tone at the mention of Scott. You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. Steve is watching you carefully, wetting his lips. You try to ignore it, instead digging your nails into your arm through your sweater. 

“I’m a pianist. A classical pianist, and you’re what? Wannabe rockstars? How is that going to work?” You point out with a small laugh. Bucky tilts his head at you, standing above you like that he looks so…

“You’re also a singer? As much as Stevie here hates to be wrong-” Steve groans at that as Bucky claps him on the back, “Opera at that, you can sing pretty much anything with a bit of guidance.” 

You chew on your lip at that, uncrossing your arms to rest your palms on your thighs, glancing between the three men. Of course they would want to be paired with you, not like they had already tormented you enough? You could imagine it was out of guilt, somehow convincing themselves that if you got good grades for this assignment it would be payment for all they had done. In any other situation they wouldn’t have been interested in you, probably wouldn’t have even known you existed

“What if I say no?” You ask. You could easily argue that you were too traumatized from the incident to do this assignment. You would get away easily, the boys? Well they would be fucked, scrambling to find someone from Group B to put up with their shit. 

“Then deal with Stark. I don’t care. Listen, we know this is our fault. We’ll keep apologizing and somehow make it up to you. Just be our vocals for this assignment?” Bucky says, a slight begging tone to his voice. You roll your teeth over your bottom lip. You don’t know what would be better - to completely fuck them over, or go along with it and watch them beg for your forgiveness. 

“Why not Natasha? Or Sharon?” You ask, motioning in their general direction. Steve watches your movements like a hawk while Sam groans for you to stop being so tedious.

“I mean, they’re both great singers but not for what we want. They’re like… pop, indie shit. We want something a bit more edgy.” Bucky explains, you arch an eyebrow. 

“Because an ex-opera is edgy?” You say sarcastically, you can practically feel the vibrations of Steve’s groan in your chest. That makes you smile.

“Y/L/N.” Bucky warns, you just beam up at him. 

“Barnes.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment, you can feel Sam uncomfortably squirming beside you, like he can sense the tension. 

“Just say yes, please?” Steve speaks up finally, surprising you. You glance over at him, looking him up and down. Your eyes pause for a moment on his biceps, then on his face as he assesses you with a pleading look. You figured you’d probably tortured him enough - the entire day he had seemingly gone through all the stages of grief. 

“Fine. But you owe me.” You reply with a sigh, finally giving in. 

“Thank you,” Bucky says with a gentle smile. You roll your eyes at him, they still owed you big fucking time. 

“Too easy. I should’ve made you beg on your knees for it,” You mutter, voicing your annoyance,  with a shake of your head. Bucky and Steve exchange a look you can’t quite see, but you can sense the invisible tension. 

“Nah, they would’ve been way too into it,” Sam says from beside you with a chuckle. Your eyes snap to him. Steve responds by hitting Sam’s shoulder, Sam yelping in response. You watch cautiously, waiting to see if Sam settles back into the couch or tries to fight back. To your relief, he leans back. Bucky eyes your caution with his own cautious stare before speaking up. 

“Tonight then?” He asks, you shake your head. 

“I can’t. Loki’s being discharged so I gotta deal with that. Tomorrow?” You purposely ignore the face Steve makes at the mention of Loki. You would really have to ask Loki what the fuck that was about. Maybe when he wasn’t delirious on pain medication. 

“Sure. Tomorrow, 6pm?”

“That works, better to do it at yours. I think Thor might castrate you if you came near the apartment.” You say, Bucky chuckles weakly. You can’t tell if it’s to humor you, or that he genuinely didn’t believe Thor could best him. God, you were surrounded by far too many hot muscled men.  

“Sounds like a plan.” You chirp, snatching up your bag as you stand from the couch. Bucky and Steve both stand clear out of your way as you depart without a goodbye. 

Chapter 4

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 30 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Extra Note: I apologise for the hand-wavy electronics stuff in this chapter. I do actually have a degree in Computer Systems Engineering, but I always sucked at the electronics part and this is based on a show set in the 80s and all the series and movies of that era had hand-wavy science, so I claim asylum 😄. Just run with it, okay 😜.

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 30.    Defences

It had been nearly an hour and a half since they had last heard from those surrounding the house. Nothing had moved since. Other than making sure Will didn’t do himself an injury, Steve was keeping himself busy keeping an eye on everyone else. They had shifted everyone and everything they might need to the living room and it was tense to say the least.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Erica and to Steve’s surprise, Gareth were the only ones really doing anything as they worked on the electronics they had spread out on the dining room table. DnD had had to take a back seat when everyone had moved to the same room.

“Your guys doing okay?” he asked Eddie quietly, walking up beside his boyfriend.

“Well as can be expected,” Eddie replied, glancing over at where Jeff and Frank were sitting. “Gareth seemed to be in his element. Knew he was a bit of an AV nerd, but thought it was mostly to do with music stuff.”

“Hidden talents come in really useful with this crowd,” he replied with a small smile. “Did you know Erica can do complex math in her head?”

“In her head?” Eddie replied. “I knew she was quick with numbers, but that sounds way too advanced for me. Math is probably my least favourite subject next to High School English. If they’d only let us get away with addition and subtraction, maybe a bit of multiplication.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, “and I wasn’t even very good at the simple stuff. Still have no idea how I graduated math class.”

“Harrington charm?” Eddie asked with a small grin.

“On this one, I might have to agree with you,” he replied. “How are you doing?”

“Would it be weird to say I feel kind of itchy?” Eddie replied, grin disappearing.

“Itchy how?” Steve asked.

“Like there’s something under my skin,” was the quiet answer. “All I can think is I’m remembering the bats.”

“Yeah, this business has a way of messing with all of us,” Steve agreed. “Robin called it PTSD, which stands for something, but she was rambling when she was telling me, and I didn’t quite get it.”

“Our Robs is a fountain of knowledge, but sometimes it does take her a while to get to the point,” Eddie agreed, the grin coming back for a little bit. “How about you?”

“If I see another candy bar, I might hurl, but other than that, I’m doing fine,” he replied.

“Fine as in really fine, or fine as in how you make your mom nervous?” Eddie checked.

“Really fine,” Steve assured him. “I know the nosebleeds look gruesome, but mine are only little ones and I promise I am not pushing it too hard.”

“Just remember, you aren’t any more disposable than El and Will, okay?” Eddie said, leaning in close for a moment.

“Okay,” he promised.

It was hard to explain how natural what he was doing felt. Throwing things around, going into the Void, that was difficult and not always pleasant, healing wasn’t like that at all for him, even if his nose seemed to be making everyone else think otherwise.

“I think we’ve got it.”

Dustin’s voice dragged his attention away from Eddie.

“You’ve done it?” Hopper asked, walking over to the dining room table.

Steve hurried over so he could take a look at the mess of wires and bits of walkie and phone that were spread around. It was all Greek to him, but it did seem impressive.

“Yes,” Mike said.

“We patched the walkie in to the cellular phone and then used…” Dustin began to say.

“Kid, I already know you lot are geniuses,” Hopper interrupted. “All I need to know is, will it get through the jammer the insane colonel has set up.”

“Yes,” Dustin said.

“Great,” Hopper replied.

“But,” Dustin added.

Steve didn’t like the sound of that.

“But what?” Hopper asked.

“But it’s likely as soon as we put out the call, those outside will know,” Gareth filled in quickly.

“Fu…dammit,” Hopper said, summing up what Steve was thinking too.

“They will attack,” El said without any doubt in her voice whatsoever.

“I know Owens has people on standby,” Hopper revealed, much to Steve’s surprise.

“About damn time,” he heard Lucas mutter.

“But no matter how quickly they get the message, it will take them time to mobilise and get here,” Hopper went on.

“We need to fortify our position and keep everyone safe,” Wayne said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

From the expression on Hopper’s face, Steve was pretty sure the two older men were on the same page.

“How can we fortify a living room?” Jeff asked, clearly incredulous.

“We’re not trying to fight them off,” Nancy spoke up. “We’re just trying to hold out for a little while. El and Will, with Steve’s help, can do a lot, and the rest of us can be ready if they get through.”

“Could we take the fight to them?” Joyce asked.

“They’d pick us off,” Hopper said with a shake of his head. “It’s the armoured car that has me worried, they could drive it right through the front door.”

“Then we take that out as soon as we send the call,” Steve put his own thoughts in. “If we all move upstairs onto the landing, we have line of sight around the whole downstairs. We can find things to throw like with the Mind Flayer.”

“What the hell is a Mind Flayer?”

Apparently, that was the limit for Frank.

“Upside Down monster we fought at Starcourt,” Mike supplied without preamble. “We used fireworks. We don’t have any fireworks.”

“And fireworks would be a really bad idea,” Dustin added as if it was an afterthought.

“Yeah, let’s not burn the house down,” Robin commented.

“I was more thinking of the nail gun in the garage, the weights I have out there too and things like that,” Steve pointed out, trying not to roll his eyes.

Sometimes even geniuses could miss the point it seemed.

“They’ll likely use gas grenades,” Wayne said in a way that made Steve wonder what military experience the man had again.

“We can deal with those,” El said simply.

“It’s their guns I’m more worried about,” Joyce said.

“We can deal with those too,” Will replied. “They won’t be expecting me at all, and they’ll expect El to be cautious because of what happened to her at Starcourt and against Vecna, but she won’t have to be thanks to Steve.”

“Sorry I can’t, well y’know, help with the defence,” Steve said as a feeling of inadequacy bloomed in his chest.

“Steve,” Joyce said, looking him square in the eye, “you keep El and Will from hurting themselves when the shit hits the fan, and you are helping more than I could ever ask.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Right,” Hopper said, dragging everyone’s attention back to him. “Everyone upstairs onto the landing. Find something solid to block the bars and hide behind. Is there any way out from up there?”

“We can get onto the roof from my bedroom window if we have to,” Steve replied.

“Once we’ve fortified, we grab anything that might make a weapon,” Hopper went on. “But I want to make this clear, we are holding out, not going on the offensive. Everyone’s main job will be to stay down. Clear?”

Everyone nodded as Hopper met every single pair of eyes in the room.

“Okay, go,” Hopper said, and they all went into action.

Steve ended up on the balcony to the side of the main stairs, with El and Will, and an old metal table between them and the wooden railing. He had one of the baseball bats, just in case, but he doubted he was going to be in a fit state to use it given his main task. Everyone else had their own positions and piles of things to use as projectiles. Eddie had placed himself a little further along the landing from Steve. Eddie had a pile of rocks from the ornamental plant in the hallway, and one of two slingshots Steve had completely forgotten he owned.

He vaguely remembered being obsessed with the things once many years ago, and he had had two because Tommy’s mom wouldn’t buy him one of his own. He was pretty sure his dad had confiscated them after an incident with a ball bearing and a car window. That they had been left lying around in a box in one of the garages was news to Steve.

Lucas had the other one since Lucas was a dab hand with the weapon.

Robin was with Nancy, who had been allocated the rifle and the small amount of ammunition to go with it. Robin had one of the other bats and had used the nail gun to augment it. She also had various tins from the kitchen cupboards.

Joyce had the actual nail gun as a weapon. The kids had various projectiles. Hopper had his gun. The Corroded Coffin guys had an assortment of things to throw and had divided themselves among the younger kids in a way that made Steve warm to them even more. Wayne was staying close to Eddie and had the third bat, as well as a host of heavy things to drop on people if necessary. Which just left Steve’s mom, who had taken up a position on the balcony over the dining table with what looked like several of the good, heavy base pans from the kitchen and a few other less deadly items.

They were about as ready as they ever would be.

“Everyone know what to do?” Hopper asked.

“Stay out of sight, throw things if necessary,” Erica spoke up for everyone.

“No heroics,” Hopper said, meeting everyone’s eyes again.

He clearly knew them all well.

“Good. El, get ready to take out the armoured car,” Hopper said, “and Will, we’ll need a scan.”

Will nodded, heading into the nearest room with a view over the drive, sitting on the carpet and closing his eyes. El took up a position at the side of the window, out of sight of those outside. Steve stood behind them, a hand in each of theirs.

“Make the call,” he heard Hopper say from the landing.

He was too focused on Will to take much else in once Will began to use his power in earnest, so he had to trust everyone else to keep things going. Time was very amorphous when he was healing, it was more about what he was doing than any standard measurement, so he had no idea how long it was before Will spoke.

“They know. El, now,” Will said, voice reverberating through the connection Steve had with him, and El’s power spiked down his spine, joining Will’s.

His own answered it. He had no idea what El had chosen to do, but, even in his completely focussed state, but he still heard the resulting explosion.

“They’re coming,” Will said, only moments later.

End of Chapter 30

Chapter 31

[eddies-artofsuffering]

steddie ask 1, 14, 16 please ☺️☺️☺️

Omg yes!!! Thank u for the ask heheh I’m extremely pleased to tell you❤️🥹

1. Why do I like this ship?

I guess the short answer is that I always get into a ship when I can see myself in the characters involved & I can see them loving each other that I want to be loved, and by far steddie are the closest to all of those things in any types of media I’ve seen (maybe the next closest is bbc Sherlock’s johnlock lmao) But the long answer is —I mean, I am a bi disaster myself, a lanky ass dude with dark curly hair and dark eyes who grew up closeted in a small town, and I spent a big portion of my teen years living with someone else other than my immediate family who was absent. I was known as a jock in high school, musician to those who knew me better, and secretly a big fuckin nerd who enjoy metal music in my own time. I knew monsters from whom I got PTSD, and I have both emotional/physical scars that will last me a lifetime. I really think steve and Eddie compliment each other because the way they need love & want to love are similar—and it happens to be the way I want it as well. So it’s really important for me to have these two idiots who share my past and present fall in love, you know?

14. Steve joining corroded coffin or just a fan?

Honestly????????? Kind of neither. Now don’t hate me just yet…. I just think that Steve would definitely supportive, but not necessarily in love (!) with the music itself. I believe he’ll be a fan of Eddie (eventually) and will help out here and there when they need it, maybe during the early days if they later become famous etc. but I feel like he wouldn’t really know or understand the ethos of CC. Like he’ll go along with it and will make it to the gigs and performances concerts etc but he’ll also have ear plugs with him bc it hurts his ears and he’s already suffering from head trauma ☠️Idk that’s my HC so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

16. Overdone HC

Again: I’ll premise it by saying that I absolutely love these overdone HCs: Eddie realizing that he’s gay before Steve realizing his own sexuality. The most common fanon I’d say is 1) Eddie knowing he’s gay whether he has experience or not 2) Steve’s bisexual awakening is Eddie and he consults Robin about it 3) Eddie being a flirty motherfucker whilst Steve (who’s normally smooth) being very flustered ™. Now I fuckin love this shit SO much and will read the hell out of it every time. But I do want more of oblivious Eddie whose sexuality crisis is super delayed bc of whatever reason, and Steve understanding / being well versed with the language of attraction from a young age regardless of gender, therefore having these epiphanies before even meeting Robin. Growing up I didn’t have a Robin 😭and I needed to figure shit out on my own. It was pretty apparent to me that I wasn’t straight since I was 12 or 13, and I want to see Steve in a similar situation who help Eddie navigate that!!! Which is why I’m writing a new fic exactly about this lmao. (Shameless promo)

[lesbiradshaw]

it really is so funny that steve’s nightmare in aou is straight up having to keep his date with peggy after the war is over, especially considering ‘dancing’ in the cap trilogy has been pretty clearly set up as a metaphor for sex … those aren’t homoerotic undertones anymore. that’s just gay plain and simple.

[assembletheimagines]

Hey I just found your page…read some of it..looking forward to the rest ..

Thanks @nana1000night for the tag

Hey if you requests are open can I request a Sam Bucky Steve one shot where the other two are making him watch porn coz he finally wants to do it with you and he doesn’t want to seem unprepared (that’s his inner captainess screaming)..So he goes to ask Bucky and Sam for some advice but them being them goes a step further and teach Steve with help of visual details🤭

(We are assuming Steve is a virgin in this one)

A/N: There was two ways I was going to write this but I hope you like this one! I wasn't sure if you wanted the boys to stay the entire time so if you want another let me know, my inbox is open! I'm always here for unexperienced!Steve (˶⸃ ⴰ⸃˶)♡

Warning: smut, 18+, masturbation

-

When Steve goes to Sam and Bucky for help, he briefly wonders if it was a mistake. 

The look they give each other, gave a queasiness in his stomach. He could see they practically shared the same braincell at that moment as they flashed him dark grins in response. 

- 

Steve feels his blush on his cheeks, his neck, and on the top of his ears as he sits between his best friends, a laptop settled on his lap. 

“So, there are different ways we can go about this,” Bucky speaks first but Sam is quickly cutting him off, snatching the laptop from Steve and typing already. 

“Nope, you learn the modern way, like everyone else.” Sam says and returns the laptop with a big grin. The screen showed multiple boxes with stilled pictures of women and men in various positions. Steve didn’t think his face could get redder but clearly Sam proved him wrong. 

“Guys,” Steve choked out, eyes wide as he stared at the screen apprehensively. “I just wanted some advice on taking the next step in my relationship.” His eyes down casted, the only experience he had was with his hand and he just wanted to make sure he could please you.

Sam nods, still showcasing the wide grin, “yeah! And what better than showing you, Stevie.” Sam knew they could have just talked with Steve but where was the fun in that? Was he evil for enjoying the possible PTSD he could possibly give the super soldier? 

Bucky shared the same thought and grin as Sam. Holding in a snicker because of his inexperienced friend next to him. “No worries, bud.” He reassured the super soldier next to him with a clap of his hands. “Just click whatever catches your eye.” 

- 

It doesn’t take long for one of the boys to crack, downright cackling and resulting in Steve kicking both of them out of his apartment. A frown on Steve’s lips as he hears the echo of their laughter as they walk down the hall. 

He frowns again when he turns around after locking the door, the laptop sits on his coffee table, the screen still on display. 

Steve decides, fuck it, and grabs the laptop sitting back on the couch as he clicks on a video that catches his eyes. 

- 

Moans resonate through his living room as his eyes stay glued to the screen in front of him. His lips are parted slightly as he continues to watch the video on his laptop. 

A woman drops to her knees before the man. A seductive smile on her lips as she reaches up to the man’s belt, unbuckling and sliding the zipper to get to his boxers. She gasps as his dick slaps up to his abdomen, the head already red and glistening with precum. 

The man’s hand comes to thread in her hair as she places a kiss to the head of his dick , some of the man’s precum showing on her lips as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. 

The man groans and tugs the woman’s hair, his other hand wrapping around his length as he rubs the head of his dick on her lips more. Commanding a simple, open. 

Steve’s dick twitches, hardening as the woman on the screen opens her mouth and the man begins to slid his cock into her waiting mouth. Her moan, as he enters, makes Steve move his hand down to his pants, palming his length over his jeans. 

The man groans when he hit’s the back of the woman’s throat causing her to gag and Steve can’t help but curse as he unzips, taking his cock into his own hand and squeezing. 

It doesn’t take long before the man begins to move the woman, his fingers still threaded in her hair as he forces her head up and down his length. Steve grunts, cheeks flushed, as he strokes to the bob of the head. 

Slurps and grunts fill his living room now as the man gives up moving the woman’s head and just holds it still, hips rutting forward to fuck her mouth instead. Steve’s hands squeeze tighter around his shaft, cursing softly as he sees a downward view of the woman’s face. Her eyes are watery, tears rolling down her cheeks as she moans around the man’s cock taking everything he gives her. 

Steve’s eyes shut then, head tilting back in pleasure as he thinks of you like that for him. Sitting on your knees all pretty, opening your mouth for Steve to use as he pleased. His thumb swipes over the slit of his dick, spreading the pre cum that leaks out and pumps his cock faster. 

He wondered if you’d moan while sucking his dick. If you would be wet for him, Steve gasps, he wanted to taste you. His laptop was long forgotten as his hips bucked up, fucking into his fist as he continued to think about you. 

Now his grunts mixed with the moans from his computer as he felt his dick twitch in his hand. Steve needed you, wanted you, moaning your name as he squeezed his cock, a breathless whine choked out past his lips as he suddenly came. His dick twitched as rope after rope of cum hit his abdomen and even up to his chest, staining his shirt. 

Steve panted, licking his lips as his hazy eyes returned back to the screen. 

Maybe Sam was right about looking on this website. 

His fingers moved on the computer, clicking another video. 

The screen shows a woman, hovering over a man’s mouth, the man’s tongue already sticking out waiting for her to sit on his face. 

Steve’s dick twitched, hardening already as he clicked play. 

[anika-ann]

Love on the Brain - Prologue

Take a Picture, It Will Last Longer

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 2500

Summary:  Being Steve Rogers’ neighbour, coworker and friend comes with certain perks... doesn’t it?

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics​; we start short, chapter will get longer... happy reading 💗

"A picture's worth thousands of words but they don't tell the whole story."  Jennifer Brown

-

Had anyone asked you a few years back what the favourite part of your day was, you would answer slightly evasively and yet in a manner that said it all: not mornings.

You were not a fan, at all; your biorhythm was set to being more of an owl. Therefore mornings were destined to be your doom. Mornings were destined to be everything but pleasant.

Then again, living next to Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, made one rethink their stands.

Because seeing him coming back from his morning run at seven a.m. like clockwork was a sight for your sore eyes, more so when he arrived ten minutes later with two cups of coffee from the nearest café. Those mornings, he graced you with your morning fix, a view of his t-shirt clinging to his ridiculously large frame and a million-dollar smile with a teasing edge, because unlike him, you had just barely shuffled out of bed.

Mornings like that were heavenly.

More so, however, living next to Steve Rogers also made one rethink their ways.

An agent operating under the Avengers Initiative for two years now and a former FBI agent for what felt like a whole past life often called for an early morning and regular workout. These two were not mutually exclusive unless you could help it.

You were certainly not a fan of participating in a morning run, but Steve was a very sweet running partner who’d always wait for you and who made for a perfect eye-candy because he’d just do push-ups and such while you were trying to catch up with him and your lungs tried to catch up with you.

Watching Steve was the best motivation; but ogling him was only platonic, of course.

You two were friends – dare to say best friends. Despite your slightly awkward start, the whole co-worker slash neighbour thing worked for you well. For all your knowledge of the human mind, you could only think of one way to describe what happened between the two of you to lead to your friendship: you simply clicked together.

Hence some mornings finding you actually running with him, returning to your apartment building energized and exhausted at once, breathless and with an ache in your feet and a smile on your lips.

Much like today.

Even after an atrocious hour of having to wait up for your ordinary human running – and it was a must for Steve, because that was who he was, he wouldn’t just leave you behind –, he was a gentleman.

Opening the door for you as you were entering your apartment building, he lifted one corner of his lips in a lop-sided smile, which only widened at your quiet thank you as you were still trying to level your breathing.

He followed right behind you to the mailboxes, joining you in your routine of sorting and exchanging mail between the two of you.

Every now and then, a new mailperson would join the post office and inevitably got confused by the absolutely baffling signs on the boxes that made for a lot of Steve’s mail ending up in your mailbox and vice versa.

Some of your neighbours lost patience and added stickers on their own mailbox to clear things up, but not you nor Steve had done the same. It actually became a habit to deliver the mail that ended up in the wrong box straight to each other’s door and have a quick chat in the hallway… or a coffee. Or a breakfast. Or a lazy morning where you convinced him to hang out on his couch and catch up with at least one episode of what you were currently watching.

For most people, getting mail was ought to be annoying, because usually it was either bills or ads or boring adult stuff. But like this? With Steve Rogers, apparently even getting mail could be fun.

“You were pretty quick on your feet today,” he uttered as he reached over your shoulder to his mailbox situated directly above yours, causing your heart to skip a beat at both the reminder of how easily he would able to pull you to his chest and tuck your head under his chin and his compliment. “I barely had to wait.”

“Maybe you’re just getting slow, GG. Your age is catching up to you,” you teased lightly.

“Ha-ha. Just take the compliment, will ya, Sparkles?”

You reached inside the box absentmindedly, glancing over your shoulder, met with the sight of his broad chest first, followed by his raised eyebrow as you looked up. You couldn’t but smile, nodding.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Just the truth. You’re getting better and better.”

“Must be the right partner,” you shrugged, praising him right back – only to feel your eyes widen when you realized how it sounded.

The right partner.

It sounded like you were dangerously skimming the border between friendship and a romantic relationship – a border you seemed to be pushing more and more these days, even if almost exclusively on accident. Which was probably the only reason Steve let you off easily whenever you did so.

Just like now.

Still. Feeling blood rush to your face with more ferocity than during the run, you swiftly shut the box, ducked under Steve’s tree trunk of an arm and stepped away to make space for him, busying yourself with the envelopes in your hands.

Electricity bill – oh lord.

Water – great, it is that time of the month.

‘Buy yourself a new furry friend’—do not tempt me.

The last remaining envelope was curious to say at least, instantly making you frown; it was rather thick.

Now perhaps that was the curse of being a government agent, paranoia having a grip on you at all times… but this wasn’t just paranoia. It was a gut feeling. A gut feeling screaming at you despite the envelope not being sealed. No sealed envelope meant there were likely to be no explosives.

And yet…

As you pulled out the content carefully, your heart leaped into your throat, your blood running cold – and turning colder with every new image your eyes fell on.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost and I’m usually the one being followed by those,” Steve joked lightly, an echo of concern in his voice.

You couldn’t find your own voice, you couldn’t find the words; your mind come to a screeching halt.

Distantly, you were aware of Steve looking over your shoulder as he stood behind you, the tower of a man he was, his hand brushing your lower back as if for support.

You knew he noticed how you had stiffened, because it was impossible to miss it. Your body went into complete defensive – and into panic.

Because in your hands there were photos – quite a few photos – and on every single one of them was the man standing by your side. Pictures of him at various times of day, captured at different places he frequented, almost always wearing a different outfit. The only thing connecting the photos was his expression – in most of the photos, he was smiling.

He looked as handsome as ever, but that certainly wasn’t what had your heart beating its way out of your chest.

“What the hell…?” he muttered, so lowly it barely reaching your ears.

Then again, maybe it had to do with the fact that the alarm bells in your head were ringing louder with each passing second.

Because someone was watching Steve.

Someone was stalking Steve.

And they wanted him to know – that much was clear.

What was considerably less clear but possibly even more menacing was the message written in black marker, underlined in red, written over every single photo.

NOT WORTHY

You had no idea what the fuck that meant, but frankly, you did not care.

You didn’t care about anything besides Steve being in danger.

It was that last thought that snapped you from your trance at last, years of training and practice finally kicking in as you spun to face him.

“Okay… I’m gonna go with you and check your apartment. Then, you’ll grab a quick shower and meet me in fifteen minutes,” you ordered mechanically, leaving no room for discussion. “You take a minute longer and I’m barging into your apartment with a gun.”

Your serious eyes met his, widened in shock, softened by the furrow between his brows.

“Come on now, that’s a little-“

“Not a word.”

He opened his mouth to oppose you once more, but you never gave him the chance, shooting him a glare that clearly made even Captain America think twice before crossing you. It kinda reminded you of the one time you stared him down when he told you he never tried pineapple on pizza and he really wasn’t sure it could taste good--- not important.

The clock was ticking.

“Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds left, Steve. You know I wouldn’t joke about this. Whatever your plan was today, it’s just changed,” you said, adamant. “We’re taking these straight to your friends. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re in the same room as Ironman and Black Widow, at least.”

“Sparkles-“

You stared at him, unrelenting and stern even as anxiety weighted a ton in your stomach.

“Fourteen minutes, Steve. Let’s go.”

You almost made good on your promise as you stood in front on Steve’s door, listening intently and watching the seconds tick by, gun ready as well as the two knifes in your calf holster. You would not take any chances – this was Steve.

Just because the lock still looked untouched by brutal force and his apartment had been clean mere minutes ago when you checked it and you both lived on the eight floor and you secured the possible entrances from the fire escape, it did not mean any intruder couldn’t get in somehow.

Twenty seconds remained from the timer you had set and your legs were getting twitchy, preparing to kick the door in and run in, gun blazing.

Yes, perhaps you were being overbearing and took this extremely seriously, but you had a good reason.

Statistics were full of people who underestimated a stalker – and ended up hurt or even dead. Hell, you had lived through one of those cases and the bad ending after bad ending piling up had brought you here, hoping for better outcomes in your new job.

It was naïve to think you would never encounter a case like this ever again; but you had never imagined it would happen to someone you cared about so deeply.

Then again, no one ever did until a psycho made them or their loved one a target, may it be a stalker or another disturbed individual. The victims themselves often didn’t see it coming.

Kyle Meyers sure didn’t.

The life leaving his eyes, eyes accusing you of betrayal because you had promised to protect him flashed behind your eyelids, an image of your own bloodied hands stealing air from your lungs.

‘Please-‘ he had said, one little word, betrayed and yet so trusting, a grown man begging like a child, heart bleeding and vulnerable, because you had fucked it up and swore to keep him safe.

And failed.

Ironically, the authorities deemed you innocent, free of error, allowed you to stay despite the blood still staining your hands.

But the blood was so dark, crimson, so achingly red, red, red-

The timer went off with a vibration on your wrist, snapping you from your horror-like daydream.

Steve was still inside.

The timer went off, but you still had time. Steve was not going to end up like all the people you couldn’t save before.

Bracing yourself, you glanced at the door, muscles tensing, preparing to kick.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door flew open.

Steve watched you startled, shield up to protect himself from the gun you instantly aimed to his face – and you lowered it just as quickly, heart having leapt to your throat.

“Jesus,” you breathed out, closing your eyes briefly, gulping. Great, now I almost shot him before his stalker could get to him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, GG. Truly.”

Concern was written all over his face as he let the arm with a shield fall down to his side, engulfing you in a gentle half-hug, doing justice to his nickname of a gentle giant.

It was clearer than day he was more worried about your jumpiness than his own safety and if you weren’t so overwhelmed with just how impulsive you had been, it would irritate you. Steve wasn’t taking this seriously; those of past experiences you had shared with him and which were coming back to haunt you, on the other hand, weighted him down.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you didn’t shoot me.”

You dug your elbow into his stomach hard, pushing away even if his warm touch soothed your nerves.

Jerk. This was not a laughing matter.

“Let’s go.”

Naturally, you insisted on checking the bike thoroughly; with Steve’s help because you were not much of an expert on motorcycles. Once again, you could tell he thought you were being overbearing, that you were overreacting – but you were taking no chances.

He would have jumped on the bike with no care for the world because they were just a few photos with a little note.

As if… as fucking if.

“Steve, we’re not getting on that bike unless we check it,” you said decisively, not above emphasizing the ‘we’, knowing all too well what you were doing.

Unsurprisingly, something in his blue eyes changed – slight annoyance melted into resignation... and then worry.

It was a low blow to use Steve’s mother-henning tendencies against him but until it got through his thick skull that he was in danger, you were willing to use any means necessary.  

“Right. We ride together.”

“I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight,” you reminded him, mindful to sound less biting but no less firm. “For once, I don’t care if you mind having me tag along, because yes, I simply am riding with you.”

With a sigh, he nodded, crouching by the vehicle as you stood tall, sharp eyes monitoring the surroundings for anything suspicious or downright dangerous.

Neither of you found anything.

For now, your mind unhelpfully supplied as you climbed behind Steve, his shield holster on your own back so you could hold onto Steve tight and reach for the weapon when needed. You shushed the pessimistic voice as you pressed to his back and breathed in the scent of leather mixed with Steve cologne.

“Shall we?”

You just nodded against his back.

You trusted him to drive you both safe to the Tower; in return, it was your job to ensure you remained safe from other dangers than traffic.

And damn, you would.

You would keep him safe no matter the cost.

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Thank you for reading! 💕

As said above, we’re staring relatively short - prologue and first chapter. Then we’ll delve in for real👀

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