Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Roommate (2)

Warnings - Mentions of Rape, sexual assault, abuse, recovery process, mostly fluff, dissociation

I really liked this idea and I didn't like how I ended it, so here's another part for my lovely readers who probably can't take anymore angst from me atm

Love you guys!

*UNEDITED*

Sleeping has been hard the past week. All you can do is stare at the door anytime someone knocks, mostly Bucky or Clint, thinking back to the incident of the week prior that had you clinging to Steve like your life depended on it. How you were on the floor, once again stuck with memories of the haunting nightmares that come to attack you when you're most vulnerable. Which is always now.

Dealing with police and lawyers have been all that's going through your head non stop. Work has given you the personal time, paying for your leave of absence while you try and recover from the attack. It's like you haven't stopped shaking or crying since you screamed for help. You can't help but bite your nails as you try and conjure up some form of assurance that pictures your ex back in a prison cell for all of his life.

You don't even know when he had gotten released. You were so distracted with everything else going on that the time flew by quickly. He had been on parole, by some miracle, and you had been with half of the Avengers, two of which are super Soldier's, and another that is a God from a whole other realm. But you can't stop thinking about how safe you had felt when Steve was holding you instead of Bucky.

Just his touch and voice had you realizing that the hands once holding you were the opposite of his intentions. Steve was trying to calm you down, whispering so gently as he pushed everyone else away. He held you when you found your arms around him, not caring your jeans had been popped open or your shirt was slightly mangled as tears flowed down your face.

He stayed next to you as you tried to give the best description of the scene, but you were already trying to make an excuse for him, going back to times where you were happy before this. Steve's hand was gently on your back, being the only thing keeping you from drifting off into the depths of your mind to escape the reality.

You're not safe in your own apartment.

Steve has been with you the last week, making sure you're comfortable. He doesn't bring up the fact that he's slept next to you the last three nights on the couch, holding you as you cried. He makes breakfast for you both, taking account that you can barely get yourself ready in the next room without slightly leaving the door open, Lucky taking his job much more seriously now than he did before.

Your change is expected, from what your therapist has told him. Twice this man-boy-has invaded your trust and boundaries, setting you back to the first time this happened. Where Natasha was watching you sleep in a hospital bed after you had been sedated from everyone touching you. She had just been able to hold your hand after you had woken up the first time, seeing how you caved in on yourself, berating yourself with all the thoughts of closure and turning them into manipulated excuses that this could've been your fault.

This time was different. He had only gotten through your first layer of clothing before Steve was tackling him to the ground. It didn't mean you weren't terrified at that exact moment. All you could feel were his hands all over you, just like before, hearing your heart in your own ears as you weakly tried to stop him, conjuring up the last of your strength to scream when you realized it was going to happen to you again.

It was like your mind had already made a its decision to shut down and try and forget everything like before. The moment he was spitting in your face, you were pushed to the side and left to fight with one other defense that hadn't helped you before. But it was something your body has already done, going back to the old way to help process.