#steve is the therapist friend

[jonathanbyersphd]

No bc I genuinely hope a majority of s5 is Steve 5th wheeling Jancy and Rockie

[menaceadored]

saw someone mention at the end of season three, steve listing his mom as one of his references on his application to family video is proof that he doesn't have neglectful parents. personally, i favor the idea that steve has a complicated relationship with his mom

I like to imagine that he and his mother were very close when he was a child, practically inseparable, attached at the hip. His mother spoke to him not like he was her son, but her closest friend, her cherished confidant. Likely over sharing when it came to adult matters like issues in her marriage which unsurprisingly led to Steve's own appropriately negative feelings for his father.

Their relationship only started to dwindle when Steve became a teenager and started hanging out with kids like Tommy and Carol and taking on the role of 'King Steve'. He was going through a lot and his father, who never appreciated the bond between him and his mother, was putting a lot of pressure on him to prove himself 'as a man'. He still loved his mother, obviously, but she could tell he was pulling away, keeping secrets when he had previously told her everything, getting into trouble which was so unlike the sweet boy she had once confided in. So, for the next few years, they drift apart and get into petty arguments over nothing.

All the while, his parents' marriage only seems to be growing further apart as well. Steve wonders why they won't just get divorced and save them all the headache.

It's only after Nancy Wheeler gives Steve a thump on the head that turns him around that his mother starts to recognize him and they start talking again. It's not exactly the same as when he was a kid. Steve still has secrets he can't tell her. He's seen things now that he can't explain, doesn't even know where to begin. But he tells her about his breakup with Nancy, about Tommy ditching him for Billy Hargrove, about babysitting Dustin and the kids and how somehow he's almost happier now being friends with a bunch of 12 year olds than he ever was as 'King Steve'. They're talking and honestly, he's just happy to see his mother laugh like she used to.

It's after his graduation when he gets into a heated, semi-physical argument with his father, (disappointed he didn't get into any of the schools he'd planned for Steve to attend and convinced he's a failure, the first time his father has laid a hand on him), that he realizes that despite how unhappy she is in her marriage or his newly busted lip, his mother will never leave his father. But Steve can't find it in himself blame her.

He's always been able to read his mother so easily, like her emotions were his own and he could tell exactly what she was feeling just by being in the same house with her or from the pauses she took over the phone. So without explanation, he understands that in some strange, complicated way, his mother loves his father and always will no matter how he treats her. Or Steve. So she won't leave him and Steve would never convince her otherwise.

Still, at times he finds himself feeling incredibly angry with her, wants to yell, and scream, and beg her to stand up for herself. Stand up for him. But he never does, would never take his anger out on her in that way. Because for some reason, ever since he was a child, Steve has felt this strange responsibility for his mother. This need to shelter her and protect her feelings. And really, he doesn't think that she's the one to blame. So no, he never yells or shows anger towards his mother.

He calls her when she's on business trips and keeps her in the loop on what's going on in his life, tells her about his job at Scoops, his weird coworker Robin (who eventually becomes his best friend Robin), the kids, everything (besides Upside Down matters or anything he feels might upset her). And when both of his parents are in town he stays out of the house. Limits his interactions with his father to as little as possible and only spends time with his mother when the man isn't around. It works for them. It keeps their relationship intact.

Because as much as Steve feels a responsibility to protect his mother and her feelings, he also knows he needs her just as much and couldn't bare to lose her completely. So he compromises because a part of him fears that if his mother were forced to choose between him and his father-

So yeah, Steve lists his mom as a reference on his application to Family Video because his mom is well respected and could go on and on about how wonderful her son is and he loves her and trusts her. Their relationship is just complicated.

[dudeshusband]

i felt bad for steve because his wife is shitty and then i realized i also hate him

[imtryingbuck]

My Saviour

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Buckys just received some news from the love of his life.

Word count: 6,269

Warnings: angst. fluff. suicidal thoughts. Bucky’s past mentioned. insecurities. scars mentioned. Bucky being madly in love. reader being an angel. past cheating and domestic abuse. pregnancy (it’s me im sorry) me not knowing anything about courts/sentencing.

Translation: ты мой спаситель - you’re my saviour (if wrong take it up with google translation)

Masterlist

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there to see the progress he was slowly making. Wished to know if his best friend was proud of him.

But most importantly he wished Steve chose to stay with him and Sam so he could have met the person who brought him back to life, who brought his long existence actual meaning other than jumping from fight to fight. He knew Steve would have loved her and probably would have thanked her for everything.

But sadly Steve went to live a different life without him so he had to deal with Sam all alone.

For a year after Steve left Bucky struggled to go out, he struggled to find his path in a world that he wasn’t suppose to be apart of. He should have died that day when he fell from the train.

His therapist tried to get him to go out into the world and meet people, Bucky would say ‘next time’ until Dr Raynor eventually gave up on trying.

For a whole year Bucky moved with the motion, just existing, alive and breathing but just barely holding on to that invisible thread.

That was until six years ago. Six years ago everything changed.

** six years ago **

“Buck please-“

“Don’t call me that! How many times do I have to tell you”

“Oh I’m sorry Sir Bucky! But like I said please just come with me? It would do you some good to get out of your apartment, wait Bucky are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m listening. I do get out-“

“To see your therapist and that’s it”

“I’m still going out aren’t I?” Bucky responds snappily, rolling his eyes as Sam groans through the speaker.

“Please Bucky, it’s just coffee!”

“God sake, okay. I’ll be there. Bye” He really didn’t want to go out and get a coffee with Sam but he ended agreeing knowing that he would not have stopped, probably even going as far as coming to his apartment just to drag him out of there. Since Steve left, poor Bucky had been left all alone on with Sam, okay it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but still he had been left with a man that annoyed him more than anything.

Groaning inwardly he slides his phone into his jeans front pocket before shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as he walked down the street he kept his head down so he didn’t make eye contact with anyone walking by. It was safer that way. For him and those around him.

“James Barnes” he spoke roughly to the receptionist who made a habit of always pushing her chest out so he could get an eye full of her cleavage.

“Take a seat” she responds batting her eyelashes with her chest pushed out. He thought after the tenth time of him rolling his eyes at her not so subtle attempt at flirting she would get the hint.

He was not interested.

“S-sorry is this seat taken?” A soft timid voice from a woman pulled Bucky out of his staring competition he was having with the fake plant by the water dispenser.

“Huh?”

“Is-is anyone sitting here?”

“No. No you can sit”

“T-thank you” Bucky smiled and nodded softly instantly curious as to why she was also seeing a therapist. Bucky found himself getting lost in the smell of her perfume, the sweet smell creeping up his nostrils and into his senses. His eyes focused on the slow motion of her leg closest to his bouncing in time with the ticking of the clock.

“S-sir?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you um are you J-James Barnes?”

Great just great. She knows who he is and from the way she stutters his name she clearly knows what he’s done and is scared of him. “Yes that’s me” he finally answers.

“Y-your names b-been called sir” she points over to where the receptionist is and sees her waiting for him to follow her down the hallway to Dr Raynors office.

Oh. Oh okay he got it wrong. “Oh, thank you”

“Y-your welcome sir”

Bucky offers her a small smile that she responds with the same and follows Lila down the corridor. He has no idea that the small smile he gave her meant a great deal to her. Nor does he know that she talks about him to her therapist that was two doors down from his.

Neither one realises that one small smile would make such a massive impact on their lives.

Over the course of four months, twice a week Bucky would see the woman whose name he had yet to know, every time they sat patiently in the waiting room they would find themselves sitting next to each other. Always quietly asking if the seat next to them was taken. Even if there were other available seats.

Dr Raynor had quite enjoyed hearing about the woman who seemed to have taken residence in Bucky’s mind. And Dr Harlow was proud of hearing that her patient was seeing someone new. She laughed when her patient blushed and began stumbling over her words that she was not seeing this man in that sense.

Bucky walked in to the waiting room expecting to find the woman whose presence he had become content being around only to frown at seeing the two seats that became unofficially theirs empty. The whole time he waited for her but she never showed. His name was called, as he followed Lila he kept turning his head back to the double doors in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of her. Walking into the room he frowned at seeing Dr Raynor and another woman sitting down. This was new.

“James, this is Dr Harlow.”

“Hi?”

“Hello James”

“What’s wrong? I didn’t do-“

“No, no James it’s… well you know the woman you’ve been telling me about?” Raynor cuts him off and waits for him to nod “well Dr Harlow is her therapist, Y/n was rushed in to the hospital early hours this morning-“

“Y/n? That’s her name? Wait… what happened to her? Is she okay? Where is-“

“James, she’s okay. We can’t disclose anything about what happened but-well you see Y/n has been talking about you in her sessions, nothing bad don’t worry, and you’ve been talking about her so we agreed that we should let you know”

Bucky sat there staring at his doctor as his mind raced with questions. She was in the hospital? Her name suited her perfectly. Why was she in the hospital? Who hurt her? She talked about him? ‘Nothing bad’ the good doctor stressed. Is she okay? “James?”

“Yeah erm, are you sure she’s okay?”

“Yes. We, well we talked to each other” Raynor points at between herself and Dr Harlow “and we think it would be a great opportunity for you to talk to her, maybe offer her some support-“

“Why me? Aren’t you two the therapists?”

“Yes we are but James I don’t think you realise how much those smiles and a few quiet words mean to Y/n. Nor she with you, now in my opinion I think it would be nice if the pair of you had someone to lean on when you don’t have a session.”

Thinking it over for a few minutes he nodded and agreed. Dr Harlow said Y/n had mentioned that she felt safe with him which made his heart race faster than usual at hearing that a complete stranger felt safe around him when he was so use to it being different. No one felt safe around him, hell he didn’t even feel safe with himself but yet she did. Not even ten seconds after the door closed behind Dr Harlow did Bucky start questioning his doctor about what had happened or where she was so he could go and see her, he just wanted to make sure she was fine but Raynor held strong and didn’t back down from the harsh glare he was sending towards her. She never did though to be honest.

Ten minutes later Dr Raynor thought it was best to cut their session short, though promised him that she would make out that they did the full hour.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks it had been since he was told that she was in the hospital and he hadn’t seen her. That day he thought it wouldn’t be any different to the other days where he expected to see her, until he turned his back on Lila who thankfully now took the hint that he wasn’t interested in her. His eyes squinted at seeing someone sitting in their seats.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked quietly, hoping that the woman in front of him would raise her head and smile as she said ‘no you can sit’. And when she did. Well… let’s just say that what he wanted to do to whoever had caused such pain and suffering to his Y/n he wouldn’t have pinned it on the Winter Soldier. No because Bucky Barnes would have happily admitted to shedding blood that wasn’t his own. Happily and proudly.

“N-no you can sit” she responds with that smile he sees when he closes his eyes at night.

“Doll-“ Lila cuts him off by calling his name signalling that it was his time, he nods at her then faces Y/n. “After your session I’m going to be waiting right here okay, and I want to take you for a coffee.”

“O-okay” Y/n says with a shy smile. Bucky smiles back before going up to Lila, eyebrows burrowing when she doesn’t lead him down the corridor. And that’s when it finally hits him. He had never seen her doing that to any of the other patients.

He tells Dr Raynor that Y/n was back, told her the bruises that littered her beautiful face, told her what he had said to her and her response. “Go easy on her James, don’t try and rush her into telling you all of her secrets okay” but in the same breath suggests a nice place for him to take her.

Forty five minutes after his appointment had ended he was now sat a cross the table from Y/n with a black coffee in front of him and a hot chocolate in front of her.

“You know what I’m going to ask you don’t you?” He says with a gentle smile, she nods. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-fine now sir”

“Bucky, call me Bucky. How long was you in the hospital for?”

“A few d-days, Dr Harlow told me that she told you what happened”

“Not exactly they just said that you was in the hospital, wanted me to know since you talk about me all the time” winking at her when she blushed.

“I-I d-don’t”

“All the time they said, said that your obsessed with me”

“Well y-you talk a-about me too!”

“Me? Never!” Bucky was ninety nine point nine percent sure that he had died right there and then and went to heaven when she laughed. He was sure of it. Her laugh could only described as angelic. God he wanted to hear it again and again until he dying breath.

“I-it was my ex” she whispered. She wasn’t stupid she knew what he wanted to ask.

“Where is he now?”

“Jail still, h-have to go court in-in two weeks. My lawyer said h-he’ll be going to prison for a long time, he broke the protection order an-and well this” she said gesturing to her face.

“You had a protection order against him?”

“Yes, throughout our relationship he was abusive the o-only way I managed to get out was because he had been cheating on me with a friend of mine, he left me a-and I was so happy because it meant that I didn’t have to suffer no more but the friend didn’t want him anymore because the fun of sneaking around had gone”. Taking a deep breath before sipping on her hot chocolate she continued. “He broke into my apartment and attacked me because I said no to taking him back, police was called by my neighbour and I got the restraining order against him because I could do that then, he went to prison and h-he got out three weeks ago, he broke into my apartment again and did this b-but the police arrived quickly as I already rang them”

“Doll… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now”

“It’s not okay Y/n”

“It is what it is, he’ll be going to prison for a long time and I’ll be able to live my life again.” She smiled.

“W-when is it that you have to go to court?”

“In two weeks, why?”

“Can I come with you? To offer my support” With her lack of response he knew he overstepped. Of course she isn’t going to want the former Winter Soldier to come with her to face another monster in her life. He’s about to apologise until she smiles once more and nods.

“I would really like that. Thank you Bucky” Bucky smiled and nodded.

Their second cup of hot drinks had slowly grown cold as the conversation flowed effortlessly between the pair. Bucky loved the way she no longer stuttered or stumbled over her words the longer they spoke. She was about to say something when a bang from the window startled the pair of them.

“Great.” He muttered.

“D-do you know him?”

“Who the crazy guy with his face squashed up against the window? Unfortunately” Y/n giggled at his words then looked at the man who did in fact have his face squashed up against the window, his eyes moving back and forth between herself and Bucky. Waving shyly at the man who waved excitedly back Bucky rolled his eyes. “You do realise you’ve just basically invited him in, don’t you? Oh see now he’s entering.”

“Stop being mean”

“Didn’t expect to see you here Barnes. Hi I’m Sam, Bucky’s best friend in the whole world”

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/n” she shakes his hand and smiles at Bucky who sits there rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Scoot over then Bucky. So how did you two meet?”

Bucky looked at Y/n to see if she was comfortable with letting him know, she just smiled. “We met in therapy”

“Oh, are you a therapist?”

“No, no I’m a patient”

“Does it help?”

“Sam!”

“What? I’m just asking”

Giggling at the two men “it’s fine Bucky, it has been helping. My therapist is really nice and understanding”

“That’s great. So did you two meet from group therapy or?”

“No we actually sat next to each other in the waiting room”

“Aw that’s so cute!” Sam winks at her whilst Bucky grumbled under his breath.

Sam ends up convincing Bucky and Y/n in getting something to eat not that he puts up to much of a fight as both of them were hungry themselves. Once again conversation flows effortlessly, even Bucky joined in with the laughter.

After food was eaten and an argument between the three about who was going to pay - Y/n winning when the two men were still arguing over the bill - they walked her all the way to her apartment. Bucky’s heart clenched painfully seeing her front door with dried blood on it. Sam noticed too and smiled sadly at his friend.

Two whole weeks passed, in those two weeks Sam kept “bumping” into the pair, the three of them would walk around talking about their lives, both of the men noticing that she was very vague about her life but neither one pushed her into saying more.

Today was the day where Y/n was going to court, as she stood outside she checked her watch worrying that Bucky wasn’t going to show up, not like he needed to he didn’t owe her anything anyway. She turned around to head up the many steps when her names called, turning she sees Bucky running over towards her. Sam following closely behind.

“Hey, hi, sorry we’re late I tried to shake this one off but he’s persist-“

“No it’s okay, I-I really appreciate the pair of you coming today. It means so much”

“You’re welcome sunshine, you’ve got our support” Sam smiles wrapping his arms around her squeezing slightly.

“Y/n? We need to go in” her lawyer says from the large brown double doors.

Sam nods to the pair and heads up the steps, Bucky smiled “me and Sam are here for you, it’s going to be okay”

“I’m scared about seeing him again b-but I-I can do it” Bucky’s hand reached out to hers that shook.

“I’ve got you, I promise”

“T-th-thank you Bucky”

Hand in hand they head up to where Sam was waiting patiently and followed the lawyers lead into the courtroom. Bucky’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing from anger as Y/n bravely stood in the witness stand and gave her statement, hearing all the things that the bastard did to her made him want to attack him. Sam knew what was going through his friends head, honestly? He wasn’t going to be far behind him.

Three hours later her ex received a ten year sentence. Bucky watched as her body relaxes by hearing the judges words. He and Sam smiles at her when she turns around, her eyes moving along the rows to find where they sat, smiling as soon as she lands on them.

After leaving the courthouse Bucky took her hand in his again and the three of them went to the restaurant that Sam had suggested, in a way to celebrate Y/n’s new found freedom. Neither one of the men mentioned about what they heard or the photos they saw in the courtroom, other than telling her that they were proud of her bravery.

Six months had passed before any of them had realised, both of the therapists were proud of seeing completely different people sitting in front of them in their sessions. Bucky opened up more and so did Y/n, not only to their therapists but to each other.

The knock on the door pulled Bucky away from his bickering with Sam as his friend argued that pineapple on pizza was nice. “I’ll ask Y/n and see what she says! Hey doll”

“Hey, sorry I’m late”

“You’re not, don’t worry. Hey does pineapple belong on pizza?” He asked taking her coat and hanging it up on the hook.

“I’ve tried it and I like it” she waves to Sam.

“See! Sam I told you it was nice”

“But you said-“

“Shut up. Sam said that it was wrong but I said it was nice”

“No yo-“

“So how was your day?” Sam looked at Y/n mouthing ‘he’s lying’ making her giggle, she goes on to tell them all about her day which had Bucky hanging on to every word she spoke.

Halfway through the film Sam had picked Y/n went to the bathroom, Bucky eyed Sam curiously as the latter was sitting there grinning at him. “What?”

“Whens the wedding?”

“What wedding?”

“Yours and Y/ns”

“We’re not getting married? Why are you smiling like that?”

“If you say so, hey when are you going to tell her you love her?”

Choking on his beer Bucky shook his head “I don’t love her Sam”

“Okay, how about you telling her that you’re in love with her?”

“Sam shut up.”

“Nope. So when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m not going too alright. It’s just-it doesn’t matter alright just drop it”

“Drop what?” Y/n asked walking back into the living room.

“Pineapple being on pizza” Bucky says quickly his eyes going wide looking at Sam.

Laughing she shakes her head sitting back down next to Bucky “we’re not having this argument anymore boys”

“Try telling him that Y/n/n” now it’s Bucky’s turn to have a grin on his lips as Sam’s eyes squint at the pair.

“Sunshine has Bucky told you yet?”

“Told me what?”

“That he loves y-“

“Yogurts.”

“You… love yogurts?” She asked him with her eyebrow raised, Sam struggles to contain his laughter seeing Bucky become a stuttering mess.

“Yes… I love yogurts, problem?”

“Nope no problem here” If Y/n wasn’t snuggling into his left side Bucky would have throttled Sam.

The knock on her door startled her from the tv screen in front of her - it didn’t help that she was watching a horror and that a jump scare was about to happen when the knock came.

“Bucky? Hey, are you okay?”

“I-I was just in the neigh-neighbourhood a-and I thought that I’d st-stop by”

“Yeah come in, James is everything alright?”

“Yeah, w-why?”

“It’s just that you’re stuttering… and I’m just worried that’s all”

“S-someone said something about me, it-it wasn’t good” he admitted twisting the bottle cap from the water bottle she had gave him.

“What did they say?”

“It doesn’t matter, I-I just wanted to see you-you know because I was in the neighbourhood”

The truth was he wasn’t, he had finally listened to Dr Raynors advice and go out. His plan was to go down the corner store to get some essentials in. Get in, get out that was easy and simple. He could do it. Until he heard two men who were talking clearly and loudly about him their conversation attracting the attention of others passing by them. And that’s when he realised his second mistake that day, the first mistake being to agree to go out, the second being that he forgot his gloves. The comments were harsh and unkind.

His first response was to put his head down shoving his hands into his pockets and walk all the way to Y/n’s apartment. Even if it was a forty minute walk.

Bucky needed to see her, he didn’t care if they sat in silence just as long as he was with her, he didn’t care if she forced him to watch that terrible tv show.

“Come on let’s watch something and have cuddles”

He was safe with her. Calmer. Happier. More comfortable and relaxed.

“Have you asked her?”

“No Samuel I haven’t”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her today”

“Why?”

“Because she had her session with Dr Harlow”

“Why?”

“Sam, I’m going to punch you in the face”

“Wh-“

Bucky rolled his eyes and put the phone call down. He couldn’t bear to hear why one more time. He was too busy going over what he was going to ask Y/n, so many things could go wrong she could say no, it would be weird as they’ve only known each other for a year now. She’s going to say no. Of course she is. He can’t ask, he just ca-

“Buck? Open up my arms hurt”

Buck. Buck, the name Sam was not happy about hearing slipping out of her mouth. He had tried years to call him that but always got shot down. It wasn’t fair.

“Buck? Shit are you not in?”

“No! No I’m in doll, hi, hello, hi”

“Hi, hello, hi to you too” Bucky laughs taking the bags off her arms carefully, then takes them into the kitchen. A month ago Y/n moved in to his apartment with him after the landlord put up the rent making her struggle to keep paying the higher rent, Bucky caught her looking for a new place to live when he suggested her living with him, she first denied but Bucky swore and promised that he was more than happy to let her stay with him, she ended up agreeing, Bucky could have cried with happiness all night but managed to contain himself.

“Did you get everything?”

“Nope, forgot absolutely everything you asked for” sticking her tongue out at him, he laughed.

God he loves her weirdness.

“So I- god sake Sam, hold on pretty girl. What now Sam? No I haven’t. Because she’s just walked in. You’re so needy do you know that? Okay I’ll ask now. Yes I’ll do it whilst you’re on the phone. Y/n, do you want to come to Louisiana with Sam and I?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we’re going for a week to see his sister and nephews and we want you to come too”

“Will his sister mind me being there?”

“No. So?”

“Are you guys really sure?”

“Absolutely”

“O-okay, that would be nice”

His smile doesn’t just take up his face but Sam’s as well “good, good. Did you hear Sam? Okay see you later” chucking his phone on to the counter he turns back to Y/n. “We leave tomorrow”

“Tomorrow? Oh god okay, I’ll go and pack now”

Two days later they arrive in Louisiana after both men took it in turns to drive, it was long and tiring for them but Y/n loved it. She had never been out of New York before so she was taking in the sights. When Bucky wasn’t driving he would watch her from his seat, seeing her face lit up made his heart tingle.

“Are you sure she won’t mind me being here?”

“I promise, she’s excited to meet you” Sam reassures her as he pulls up the gravelled driveway.

Greeting his sister and nephews, Bucky doing the same Sarah turned her attention to Y/n instantly engulfing her in a warm embrace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you”

“You too” she smiled softly.

Later that night after putting their things away they all sat outside watching as the sun started to set, Sam was manning the grill and Bucky were chasing the two boys around making them squeal with laughter and excitement. Sarah and Y/n were talking when Sarah asked the woman sitting in front of her something that made her choke and splutter on her drink.

“W-we aren’t to-together”

“Are you sure? The way he looks at you makes me think differently”

“No, no we’re just friends. Plus he wouldn’t like me so”

“Do you like him?”

“I-yes. But I would rather have him as my friend than not have him in my life”

“Tell him how you feel”

“No I can’t do that!”

“You can”

“No I can’t”

“Can’t what?” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her. Sarah has to stifle her laughter as Y/ns eyes went as wide as saucers.

“I-erm nothing.”

“Okay? Hey there’s a crab down on the beach that the boys have found, want to come and see it?”

“O-okay” Bucky smiles and holds out his hand for her to take, helping her stand he keeps his hand in hers as they walk towards the two boys.

“Is she in love with him?”

“I think so, hopefully they’ll admit their feelings because they’re so cute together” Sarah says with her eyes trained on the two fading figures, Sam smirks before flipping the burgers.

Later that night Y/n got startled when she went into the bathroom seeing Bucky standing motionless in front of the mirror. “Shit! Bucky you scared- hey are you okay?”

“I-I’m fi-I’m not okay Y/n/n” Y/n moved so quickly wrapping her arms around him, both falling on the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” the sobs wracked through his body making her body shake. She kept repeating those words like a mantra.

“M-my hair”

“Your hair? What about it?”

“I-I want it gone, please, please help me g-get rid of it”

Her heart broke at hearing him sounding so small, in the whole year of knowing him he had always sounded so strong, and confident. Also she loved his hair and they both knew it, on nights where they cuddled up together on the couch watching movies her fingers would always end up playing with the soft strands of hair.

“A-are you sure?” feeling him nodding against her chest “okay, let me find some scissors and a clipper and I’ll do it for you okay?” Trying to stand was difficult especially since having a super soldier clinging to her. “Buck, I need to stand”

Finding the scissors was easy, it was just finding the clippers she had a difficult time coming up on. Cheering silently in triumph when she discovered them in the fourth draw. “Should we go outside so we don’t wake everyone up?”

“O-okay. Leave the light on Cass is scared of the dark, Sarah leaves the bathroom light on for him” Bucky whispered wrapping both of his hands around her free one.

Outside with only the porch light illuminating them, Y/n started cutting his hair the shorter it got the more Bucky started to relax. When it came to trimming his hair Bucky’s left arm reached around to tug on her waist, bringing her around to stand in between his legs, he smiled shyly up at her. Without thinking she leaned down as she placed her lips to his forehead. His arms snaked around the back of her legs squeezing lightly.

“I-it’s done, maybe Sam can fix it up later if it’s bad?”

“I bet y-you did a good job”

“Would you be mad if I said you had a massive bald spot right on the top of your head?”

He laughed and shook his head “no I won’t be mad”

“It’s a good job that there isn’t one isn’t there?”

“Y/n, thank you, i-it means a lot to me. Thank you”

“You don’t need to thank me. D-do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It was a nightmare. Just about my past” leading her over to the hammock on that swayed ever so lightly from the night breeze. “T-they did bad things to me, made me do worse”

“I’m here if you want to talk about it” she says squeezing his hand.

“They made me kill people, even when I completed the mission to their satisfaction they would still punish me and I never knew why. The chair was the worst, I-I did what I was told to do and I was still punished.”

Looking at the water he breathed deeply, he was about to tell her something to no one else knew, not even his therapist. “I-I’ve wanted to end my life since coming back from Wakanda b-b-but not since I met you I swear!”

“Oh Buck”

“It was easier to end it you know? But I couldn’t do it, I needed to try and make up for all the damage I caused.”

“Bucky it was-“

“It was though, wasn’t it? It was me the whole time”

“It wasn’t. Bucky you wasn’t in control of your own mind, your a good man, an incredible man - don’t scoff at me mister - you are, if you don’t believe me think about Sarah, even though I don’t know her all that well she seems to have a good sense of judgement, do you really think that she would let you be around her babies if she thought you was a bad person?”

Thinking her words over he had to agree with her words about Sarah even Sam wouldn’t let him anywhere near his sister and his nephews. Hell Tony wouldn’t have allowed him near his wife or daughter if they believed he was the monster that he still believed he was. “Y-you’re right”

Now it was her turn to think over the words from Sarah earlier that night. It was most likely going to blow up in her face and she was going to lose him as a friend forever but maybe just maybe Sarah could be right. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you were a bad person Buck”

The silence that followed was killing her. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

He however couldn’t believe his ears. Surely she was playing a trick on him. There was no way this perfect angel as he always described her would ever feel the same way as him. Surely.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I-I’ll go n-“

He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, timid at first before they both gained their confidence their tongues dancing a slow dance together. Pulling away reluctantly Bucky leans his forehead against hers, both smiling widely at each other.

“I’m in love with you too” he whispered.

Nothing else was said. Nothing else was needed to be said.

Sam walks on to the porch with his hot cup of coffee that morning, his feet faltering when he sees Bucky and Y/n curled up together on the hammock fast asleep. Pulling his phone out he took a photo of the pair before running back into the house showing Sarah the photo.

As soon as they were back in New York Bucky asked Y/n out on a date, then another and another until he asked her to be his girlfriend. And soon enough she had moved into his room with him.

The first time she saw him topless was when he came out of the bathroom wearing grey joggers, he thought she was still in the living room. He heard the quiet gasp, he looked up to see her standing there and his stomach dropped.

“Y/n-“

“Your body… did the gods sculpt you? I-is that, two, four, six yep that’s an eight pack, how do you get an eight pack?”

Hearing her words he blushed with a little chuckle. “T-the scars-“

“Beautiful”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I would never lie to you Buck, everything about you is beautiful”

That night they made love for the first time, each of them taking their time in admiring the scars that littered their bodies. The second she pressed her lips delicately against the rough, raised patch where skin meets metal he honestly thought his heart was going to stop beating.

“ты мой спаситель, did you know that?” he whispered one night placing kisses on her bare shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

“ты мой спаситель?”

“Yeah”

“It means… your smelly”

“No it doesn’t” she laughs.

“No your right, it means you’re my saviour”

“Buck-“

“You are Y/n/n, you’ve saved me you’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before a-and I know I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t for you”

“I’ll be with you until you want me to leave”

“So never” he laughed, pulling her body even closer to his. “I love you Y/n/n”

“I love you too Buck”

Bucky wished Steve was still around so he could talk to him about things. He wish that his best friend was still there so he could tell the blond about how nervous he was. He imagined Steve’s reaction as he fixed his tie for the ninth time within five minutes.

A year had passed, on their year anniversary Bucky got down on one knee and proposed, three months later he was standing in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house in his suit as Sarah helped Y/n with her dress.

He really wished Steve was there to see him marrying his love.

A month before marrying both Sam and Bucky retired, both men tired of the bloodshed and nightmares. Sam told Bucky that he was going to move down to Louisiana, he even brought up a business proposal, Bucky had to admit it did sound tempting he promised Sam that he would run it by Y/n.

“Sam’s moving closer to Sarah, you know now that we’ve retired.”

“Oh, right”

“He erm he brought up a proposal to go into business together-“

“Did you say yes? Please tell me you said yes!”

“Why? Do you want to move to Louisiana?”

“Yes! I mean I knew Sam was going to move back there so I may or may not have been looking at houses down there…”

Sam cheered loudly down the phone when Bucky rang him to tell him that they were coming too.

“You ready Bucky?” Sam asked popping his head around the door.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ready”

Bucky faltered walking out of the house only expecting to see AJ, Cass and Roy - the man who was going to be marrying them - but yet all the people Y/n and himself had befriended over the two years they had been going to Louisiana, had showed up to watch them become one.

Being announced as husband and wife had their hearts doing a double take. They were married and neither one could believe it. And neither one could wipe the smile off their faces.

“ты мой спаситель… wait did I pronounce any of that right?” She panicked as they slow danced to the live music from a local band.

“Di-did you learn that just for me?”

“Yes” she giggled “so did I say it correctly?”

“Yes you did мой спаситель”

The celebration went on well into the night.

** present time **

“Buck?”

“Huh?”

“Did you just hear what I said?” Y/n looks up at him lightly nibbling on her bottom lip looking nervously.

Of course he had heard the words that came out of her mouth but those exact words made him think about how they met, and how far they both had come from being complete strangers who met in the waiting room of their therapist building to now being a happily married couple whose love continued to grow as the days passed.

“I did, but tell me again, please”

Oh how he can’t wait to tell his best friend Sam the news he had just received.

Taking his hands in hers she placed them on her still flat stomach and smiled.

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Been dreaming about you

Summary: "I had a dream about her..." Steve only frowned even more - how was that a bad thing? "y'know," Bucky added with a tilt of his head, trying to accentuate what he meant. He didn’t want to say it out loud; it was already as embarrassing as it was.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, miscommunication (or no communication at all), Bucky depreciating himself, mention of war injuries, mention of physical attraction, mention of nudity and sexual act

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Bucky stopped at the doorstep as Y/N’s laugh made its way to his ears. 

His eyes immediately found her, sat down at the kitchen’s bar, a box of cereal in her hand. She was heartily speaking with Sam, and like any time she was talking about something she was passionate about she was speaking with her hands. Bucky couldn’t make out what they were discussing, something about milk and cereals that seemed to leave Steve, sat with them, totally unbothered.

While he really needed a cup of coffee before Tony’s briefing, he hesitated to go in. He wasn’t really in the mood for small talk - truth was, these days, he wasn’t in the mood to talk at all, especially to Y/N. Eyeing the coffee machine Y/N’s had her back turned to, he decided she was way too into her conversation to even notice him. He could just go in, take his coffee and leave. 

Yeah, it was a solid plan. 

Though it was without counting on Sam calling after him, as soon as he put a foot in the kitchen. Y/N turned to him right away, her face lighting up.

“Hi!” She greeted him, a big smile on her lips that Bucky tried very hard not to look at all.

Bucky only responded by a sharp nod and nearly run to the coffee machine. Her smile faltered slightly at his cold attitude. She watched him get himself a cup of coffee for a second more before she looked back to her own cereal bowl.

Steve frowned to the exchange; he was used to Bucky and Y/N being quite friendly towards each over. Ever since Bucky had been back in the country, Y/N had been part of his rehabilitation protocol. While Tony and Bruce were working on reversing his trigger words, Y/N was working with Bucky as a physical therapist, to try and fix his chronic right shoulder pain. She had been an army physical therapist, serving one tour in Afghanistan, and was specialized on injuries that led to limb amputation.

While the beginning had been complicated - especially due to how unstable Bucky was at the beginning, Y/N had succeeded on getting Bucky to open up to her. The last months, Steve had even found out Bucky was more eager than before going to his PT session. Whenever Y/N was around, Bucky - who normally wouldn’t stay in the common room and much preferred to stay in the quiet of his own room - would linger a little bit longer with them. Despite whatever Bucky would say, Steve just knew his friend had a crush on Y/N (by judging how red his face turned that one time Steve asked him, it was a pretty good crush). 

The blond watched as Bucky left rapidly after he got his coffee. Y/N too had watched him, Steve realized when he turned to her. Her face was wearing a small frown, and her eyes were fixed on the last place Bucky could have been seen.

“You alright?” he asked.

As always, Y/N looked back to him and smiled. She didn’t fool him though. Steve didn’t know what was wrong and clearly, she didn’t know either.

Over the next week or so, Steve found himself with a lot of déjà-vu.

Y/N would enter in a room Bucky was in and he would magically disappear. Bucky would find whatever good excuses not to do his physical therapy session - volunteering for missions he didn’t even have anything to do with in the first place. He even wouldn’t put a foot on the twenty-six floor - where Y/N had her office - if he knew she was most likely to be there - that was to say, basically every hour of every week day (Yes, Y/N had a slight work addiction).

It was clear for Steve now, Bucky was avoiding Y/N for whatever reason. Even Tony had asked if everything was alright between the two and he wasn’t the one to notice a lot of things about his own relationship - let alone other people’s relationship.

That morning, Steve had finally decided he would clear the air and talk to Bucky. He had asked him to join him in the kitchen for a coffee and this was of course at this exact same moment, Y/N had decided to get out of her office for some well-deserved break.

When she entered the room, Bucky looked like a deer caught in the headlights and stayed frozen in his seat, he didn’t have time to flee this time. Though he had been avoiding her, Y/N still seemed to be happy to see him.

“Hi!” she greeted them with a smile on her face. She picked her favorite cup from the cupboard and put the kettle on. She turned to Bucky naturally while she waited for the water to be ready. “How is your arm?”

“Well, actually.” Steve had barely heard Bucky as he mumbled.

“No pain whatsoever?”

“Nope.”

“Cool then!”

Y/N smiled as Bucky turned his attention back to his cup of coffee. She rolled on her feet, probably searching for a topic to continue the discussion - this was the most words they had exchanged in the last two weeks. She seemed to search and search again, but nothing came to her mind.

The sharp sound of the electric kettle stopping seemed to bring her back on earth. She looked at Steve and then back to Bucky, who was looking at everything but her. Again, Steve saw the way her smile faltered from his friend’s attitude and as her heart seemed to drop further in her chest. She was hurt he was pushing her away.

“Let me know if you need anything.” And without yet another glance at Bucky, she left. Totally forgetting about the cup of tea she was making.

Steve watched her go and then turned to Bucky, eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on between you two?"

Bucky looked up, eyebrows raised as if he was surprised Steve even asked about it. He didn’t even try to explain everything was fine and the blond didn’t know if it was because to him, everything was actually right, or because he was even surprised anyone had noticed his attitude.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know you were lying. It still hurts you.”

“’M fine,” Bucky muttered, eyes going back to his cup of coffee.

"Every time she is around lately, you just... disappear."

Bucky swallowed, hard. So it was that obvious. He really thought he was being subtle. He was such a nobody at the compound that making himself even smaller that usually, nobody noticed. Of course not.

"I had a dream about her..." Steve only frowned even more - how was that a bad thing? "y'know," Bucky added with a tilt of his head, trying to accentuate what he meant. He didn’t want to say it out loud; it was already as embarrassing as it was.

Oh! Steve seemed to understand.

"What's wrong about that?"

His friend gave him a knowing look. What was wrong with that? What was wrong with THAT? He had imagined kissing her, touching her, caressing her. He had seen what he imagined she looked like without her clothes on. It had felt real, so -so- real.

It had been a little bit more than two weeks now and he still remembered every little details. No matter how busy he was keeping his self, he still had flashes of it at the most random times of the day. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without reliving the scene, feeling her hands on his body and so he lived of no sleep and a lot of black coffee. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, it was driving him crazy.

Now, he couldn’t look at her without thinking about this. He tried his best not to be in the same room as her or not speak to her. The simple thought of being near her was overwhelming, let alone to have her touching him during one of his physical therapy sessions.

"Bucky, that's fine. She is one of the nicest person I know. She will tell you if that makes her uncomfortable, you'll talk about it and that will be fine."

Bucky groaned. There was no way he would admit this to her; this was already as embarrassing as it was to discuss this with Steve. He had been used to the other way around. In his past life, he had been the one giving Steve advices on how to act with the ladies, even setting him up on blind dates. Somehow, he felt like he was this thirteen-year-old looking at pinup posters in New York streets again.

"And you never know, she might be interested after all."

"How could she?” Bucky huffed, disgusted with himself. “Have you looked at me recently?"

When Bucky finished his cup and turned to Steve, his body language was indicating he was done with this discussion. Steve looked at him with one of his signature sympathetic glances. To Bucky, it felt more like pity than anything else. Steve was pitying him, old poor brainwashed Bucky, who had been kidnapped and forced to do horrible things. Hydra had made him a living time bomb and he felt it more than ever now.

"Come on Bucky, you know that's not true!"

Too late, Bucky was long gone.

Bucky felt like he was cursed.

He had been trying to avoid Y/N. Just for a little bit longer, just for as long as he couldn’t forget about their dreamed intimate moment. Yet, he continuously found himself in situations where she was too. Like when Tony invited her to their weekly catch-up on how they were planning to remove his trigger words from his head. Like when Sam invited her to the team dinner.

Or like today, when he found himself in the elevator... Alone with Y/N.

They stayed silent for most of the ride. After the last few weeks of she couldn’t get Bucky to talk to her despite her best effort, Y/N seemed to be out of subjects to discuss and preferred looking at her hands. A minute before they arrived on the first floor though, she couldn’t help turn to him and ask the question that was burning her lips for a few days now:

"Did I do something wrong?"

Bucky looked up from his own feet to frown at Y/N, a couple of steps from him. He had purposely left a lot of space between them when she boarded the elevator, but even from where he was, he could still smell her perfume and somehow feel her skin touching his.

He frowned at her, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. Y/N looked frustrated, even angry at little bit, and she had every right to be. They went from seeing each other twice a week for physical therapy session and sharing a few moments on every occasion they got to nothing at all.

She had replayed the events in her head, trying to find what she could have done wrong, and she just couldn’t make out what had happened.

"Your arm, it's bothering you, I can see," she pointed out. Even if he didn’t want to talk to - and even look at - her, she continued to watch out for him. "Why don’t you just come to me?"

"It's fine," Bucky sharply answered. A little too harshly.

The look of hurt on Y/N’s face made Bucky’s heart break. He knew he was unfair to her, yet he couldn’t admit what was going on. She was a too good person to be around him, a poor fuck-up man and a world known assassin.

Despite everything he was putting her through, Y/N didn't want to admit defeat and after the initial shock of the ton he had used to talk to her, she was ready to speak again.

“Please, just don't,” Bucky spoke more softly this time just at the same time as the elevator doors opened.

“Bucky, I-”

But he was gone before she could say anything more.

Y/N was now avoiding him like the plague.

At first, Bucky had been relieved. Now, his heart only sunk when they shared a look and Y/N was quick to look away. He was longing to see her yet whenever he would go up to her office, she wasn’t there. She didn’t venture to the compound’s kitchen any longer; and he knew it because a small coat of dust had started to cover her favourite cup. He had even tried to ask Steve how she was doing, but the only answer he got was always a “why don’t you ask her yourself?” - after the way he had talked to her, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As usual, Bucky would be having his last coffee of the day during his afternoon break, just before he would go meet the team for a strength training session at the compound gym. Steve and his reusable water bottle stomped into the room and huffed finding Bucky here. He continued his way to the water dispenser to fill it. Bucky watched, frowning, as he pushed the button so hard it nearly felt off. His annoyance was irradiating all around him and Bucky didn’t remember to have seen him so… sulking before.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked his friend’s back.

Steve’s shoulder dropped as he seemed to take a breath in. He turned slowly, a shadow on his face. His water bottle was very close to being overfilled and his hand also very close to crush it.

“Y/N has resigned,” his voice was a bit deeper than usual, “effective immediately.”

“I don’t understand-”

“She is leaving, Bucky.”

The information seemed to get to Bucky’s brain in an instant. He immediately got up, literally throwing the stool he was sat on away. He run to the elevator and when it didn’t come quick enough, he decided he would run up the stairs to the level Y/N’s office was on. He ran up the corridor and nearly took the door of his office off the hinges while opening it.

Y/N was there, putting the last books she had on her shelves in a box. She stopped in her tracks from the surprise of the brutal intrusion and gave him a dirty look.

“I really don’t have time for this.”

Her voice was cold and sharp, and Bucky wondered if that was how he had talked to her. It hurt him so much to see only anger in her eyes and to know that everything they had shared was lost. All because of him.

And that was probably why he spoke without thinking:

“I’m attracted to you.”

Y/N dropped the book she had in her hand. She looked at him - he looked at her – and Bucky didn’t let any time for her to open her mouth to speak. He didn’t want to lose the courage he had gather to open up his shell.

“I’ve been attracted to you for… well, since being back, but I only realized this wasn’t just a crush – Peter told me that word – until very recently.” He breathed shakily. “I didn’t know how to handle. This (he gestured between the two of them) is much more than just physical attraction. I have feelings for you and I shouldn’t be feeling that.”

“Bucky…” Y/N sighed, getting around her desk to approach him.

“You and I know, I can’t be feeling like that,” Bucky repeated while Y/N shook her head. “And I am so sorry. I know this doesn’t change how badly I have acted towards you, but I hope with time that I can earn your trust again.”

“I am pretty sure we had this conversation before,” Y/N told him, putting away a string of his hair. She was now in front of him, so close to what they had never been in the last few months. “You can’t decide what other people can think or feel. I know it’s easier to push people away when things get tough, but we need you to tell us what is going on in this brain of yours. Okay?”

Tears in his eyes, Bucky nodded. Y/N smiled at him sweetly and all of his problem suddenly seemed to have disappeared.

“I understand this can be a very difficult thing to hear, but you are a good person, Bucky. Whatever happened to you doesn’t define you.” She hugged him, so hard, as if they were reunited after a long time away. “And for the record, I also have a crush on you.”

[pretentious-blonde]

spark

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you accepted steve’s offer, and he smiles like it’s easy, but beneath the facade, he’s praying you don’t notice how terrifying it is to open up again

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, scars, mention of death

a/n: ANGST. steve is still a huge sweetheart as per!!

series masterlist

Steve was awake long before his alarm, as usual. Though he liked to pretend he was simply a “morning person,” he knew the real reason.

He always woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing from a nightmare he could never fully recall. It was the same vague sense of running—always running—being chased by something he never let himself name. 

He reminded himself that those days were gone. 

He didn’t have to run anymore.

He eased out of bed, pushing the sheets away, and moved to the small bathroom. Flicking on the light, he squinted at his reflection in the mirror. The circles beneath his eyes weren’t as dark as they used to be—a tiny victory he attributed to the combination of time, therapy, and intermittent determination. 

The government had footed the bill for his sessions as well as securing him a psychiatrist, reasoning that what he’d experienced wasn’t exactly covered by regular services, nor did they want the exposure. His therapist was kind enough and understood that the horrors he experienced were a lifelong journey to recovery. 

Slowly but surely, he was finding his footing again.

He’d spent years feeling dislocated from normal life. All that time battling with the fallout from the Upside Down had stolen the carefree spark of his youth, and the constant suspicion that something else might lurk around the corner left him raw. 

But recently, thanks to the subtle coaxing of his therapist—and the unwavering support of friends—he’d started picturing a future that wasn’t overshadowed by the past. 

He got a stable job teaching, an apartment all his own (no more living under his parents’ roof), and moments of genuine contentment. The kids in his class offered him something pure and untarnished. Something untainted. They had no idea about his history, or the scars he hid beneath his shirt, and that innocence soothed him in ways nothing else could.

He opened the cabinet, pulled out the bottle of medication his doctor had prescribed, and popped a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water straight from the tap. A shaky exhale followed. 

Today was Sunday. Which meant he was going to see you—something that thrilled him and sent a jolt of nerves zipping along his spine. He dried his mouth on the back of his hand, thinking about how the mere idea of a date used to make him panic. 

Now, he actually looked forward to it. Progress.

He called Robin the second he’d gotten home from school, practically buzzing as he told her he’d finally asked someone out. She’d laughed and teased him that “it took you long enough,” but the care in her voice said she was proud of him. 

He was proud of himself too. 

He had found himself gushing about you—about how you went the extra mile, how you’d insisted on giving him a discount for the kids’ sake, and how your eyes had sparkled with genuine kindness when you raised your hand in his classroom. 

He’d felt his cheeks burn just remembering that moment, how you played into the lighthearted fun. There was a tenderness about you that he found himself needing, now more than ever. If anyone deserved a gentle presence in this life, it was him.

He toweled off his face and ruffled his hair, trying to decide if it was a lost cause to style it so early. The nerves fluttered in his stomach, a far cry from the petrifying dread he was used to. 

This was a nervousness he welcomed—one that signalled something good might be about to happen rather then the more common alternative.

Making his way to the small wardrobe in his bedroom, he flicked through hangers, considering each shirt, each pair of jeans. He wanted to look casual, approachable… anything but intimidating. It wasn’t as if he’d strolled into your shop wearing a suit of armor, but something in him wanted you to see him as safe. 

Maybe it was the teacher in him, or maybe it was the scared kid he used to be, desperate not to give anyone a reason to back away.

His fingers skimmed over a few options before he settled on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans without paint smears or frayed hems. He tugged them on, studying himself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. The faint scars on his arms peeked out if he rolled the arms too high, and for a moment, he considered covering them. 

But he thought about how you’d looked at him—like he was someone worth smiling at—and decided it was okay.

Or, maybe he'd just keep his sleeves down...

He smoothed the jumper, eradicating the wrinkles, and exhaled. As he patted his pockets—keys, wallet—he felt the steady beat of his heart. He wasn’t used to feeling this light about a date or meeting someone new. The last time he’d tried to let someone in, he’d still been carrying too much baggage. Plus, meeting someone new was normally an appointment with doctor or scientist. 

But the promise of meeting you felt hopeful. 

Like something he deserved.

He arrived early, stomach twisting as he slipped into the small café. The sun was bright but soft, illuminating the polished tables and the row of pastries under their glass display. He chose a seat by the large window—not for the view, not to watch the world pass by, but because he just needed to see the outside. 

The habit was bone-deep, second nature after years of too many surprises, too many nights where danger came from behind, from the dark, from the unseen. 

If he lied, he would say it was just preference, that he liked the open space, the way the light stretched across the table, but the truth was simpler, heavier—he still hated feeling boxed in.

He needed the open sightlines, needed the reassurance that if something—anything—happened, he’d see it coming. He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. But the fear had settled into him like muscle memory, impossible to unlearn.

Taking some calming breaths, he stirred the coffee he’d already ordered in lazy circles. There was something comforting about the swirl of cream in the dark liquid, a momentary distraction from the knot of nerves in his gut.

He glanced at his watch—still early, but not by too much. On an impulse, he waved the barista over and requested a hot chocolate “to have ready” when you arrived. He hoped you’d like it, but if not, he could claim it for himself and get you something else.

Every so often, he looked up from his mug to peer out the window. Eventually, he caught sight of you, weaving through the passers-by and pausing at the crossing. His pulse spiked. 

Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he wave through the glass? That might be odd. Instead, he ducked his head, pretending to fiddle with the sugar packets on the table, as though he hadn’t just watched your every step across the street.

When the door opened, he glanced up. The sight of you, cheeks faintly flushed, made his heart do a little flip. You looked around, scanning the tables—your hair bouncing—until your eyes locked on him. As your face broke into a radiant smile, he stood so abruptly that he nearly toppled his coffee, earning a wary glance from the couple seated nearby.

“Hi,” you greeted, stepping forward as he awkwardly leaned in for a brief hug. 

You seemed comfortable with him. That was a good sign. 

“Hey,” he replied, breath catching in his throat. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

His face heated. If only you knew how early he’d arrived. 

“Oh no,” he lied with a small shrug, “I’ve only been here a couple of minutes.”

“Well, that’s good,” you said. Your gaze drifted to the steamy mug sitting across from his coffee.

“I, uh, got you a hot chocolate,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. He tried to sound casual, but his nerves betrayed him, and there was a boyish quality to his voice.

“Presumptuous,” you teased, lifting an eyebrow, and he immediately blushed.

“What? Everyone likes hot chocolate.” He sank into his chair.

“Careful,” you teased further. “You might be spending too much time around second graders.”

He would agree with you there.

“Well, kids are usually right about these things.” He let out a short laugh, tension easing in his shoulders. “Especially chocolate.”

With a grin, you held the mug up to your lips, taking a slow sip. The appreciative hum you made was enough to send a spark of pride through him, and he mentally checked off a little “win” in his mind. 

This was already off to a good start.

You settled in your seat, and he took a moment to appreciate how easily you seemed to fit into this café’s atmosphere—warm and welcoming like the morning light. 

“So,” you asked, “are the kids enjoying their new books?”

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “Love ‘em—kind of surprised at how careful they’re being, too. Usually, I’m taping up ripped pages by now.”

“Seems like they listen to you,” you observed, a gentle smile tugging at your lips.

“Sometimes they do.” He shrugged modestly. “Sometimes, they’ve got a mind of their own. But it’s good—keeps me on my toes.”

Your next question was casual, but he liked the genuine interest behind it.

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Few years now,” he said, gently pushing away the memories that threatened to surface. The path that had led him here hadn’t exactly been simple. “Didn’t go to college right away, and I was kind of drifting. Then I stumbled into a teacher training program, and… here I am.”

It was a more concise version of the truth—just enough to say without letting too many memories surface. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either; he wasn’t about to burden you with that.

“That’s really sweet,” you said softly, a note of sincerity in your tone.

He felt the back of his neck grow warm. 

“I enjoy it,” he confessed. “I always remembered the shy kids—how people used to pick on them. Thought if I can give them a good start, maybe they won’t have to worry as much… maybe they’ll carry that with them.”

He meant every word.

He had a soft spot for the quiet kids, the ones who lacked confidence—the ones he used to overlook. Maybe lifting them up was his way of making amends, a silent apology for the way he once treated his own peers. If they could find their footing a little sooner, maybe they’d never have to deal with a kid like he used to be. 

It was one of his biggest regrets, and he could only hope he was making up for it now.

Your eyes shone, and he watched the way your features softened at his explanation. The honesty in your expression made his chest tighten in the best way. He swallowed, nerves skittering again. He had to keep reminding himself not to monopolise the conversation with talk of the children, no matter how proud he was of them.

“So,” he ventured, quickly shifting gears, “are you new in Hawkins? Haven’t seen you around before.” Then his stomach lurched as your expression grew thoughtful, more pensive.

“Yeah, I inherited the bookstore,” you said, your tone gentle rather than pained. “My grandmother left it to me in her will.”

Mentally he kicked himself.

Way to go, Harrington.

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right, really.” You waved away his concern with a small laugh. “I miss her, but being in that space she loved keeps me close to her, you know? It’s like she never really left.”

Relief washed over him, followed by a deeper admiration. You really were lovely, in that rare way some people are, managing to find the bright side even in the things that hurt. He wasn’t sure how you did it, brushed off something as big as death and still had room for warmth. 

He yearned for that—desperately. 

He felt more sure than ever that this date had been a good idea. You asked about the day-to-day with his class, and he found himself relaxed enough to share a few funny stories. There were paint smears and paper-mache disasters, random outbursts during quiet reading time, and the occasional meltdown when a pencil sharpened too short. 

You giggled freely at his over-the-top reenactments, caught up in the way he threw himself into the story with his whole body. He wasn’t just telling it—he was living it, every exaggerated gesture and animated expression pulling you in. 

You could picture his students, enraptured, hanging onto every word as he transformed the classroom into whatever world he wanted. He even did the voices. There was no hesitation, no self-consciousness, just him completely lost in the moment, unguarded and uninhibited, letting it take him somewhere else entirely.

He found himself almost giddy that you were humouring him, that you weren’t just listening but enjoying his retellings. Each chuckle warmed his chest, unfolding something fragile and long-dormant, finally given sunlight. It was a reassurance he hadn’t realised he needed. 

He could still make someone laugh. He could still be light, still be fun, still be someone worth listening to.

Eventually, the conversation began to wind down. You glanced at your watch with a regretful sigh. 

“I’d love to stay longer, but I have to get back and do some admin stuff at the shop.”

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, unable to completely hide his disappointment. He toyed with the corner of his napkin, eyes flicking from your face to the door. “Of course, don’t wanna eat up your Sunday.”

“But,” you added softly, your own reluctance clear in your voice, “I’d really like to see you again, if you’re up for it?”

His stomach did a joyous flip.

He had done it. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying not to sound too eager. “Absolutely—uh—I usually have weekends off, and anytime after five, really—school hours and all.”

“Do you have a pen?” you asked, casting a quick look around for one.

These days he was never without one—always needing something signed or scribbled. He rummaged in his jacket pocket, producing a slightly battered ballpoint. 

“Here.”

You leaned over and wrote your number on a clean napkin, sliding it across the table. 

“That’s the shop phone. I live right upstairs, so it'll reach me.”

He clutched the napkin as if it were precious—and to him it really was—heart thudding like it did the first time he’d asked you out. 

“I’ll call you,” he promised, nodding a few more times than necessary.

You stood, gathering your things, and he quickly rose to his feet as well. With a self-conscious smile, he reached for your jacket, holding it open for you. 

“Here—um, sorry… Force of habit.”

You slipped your arms through the sleeves, cheeks flushing. 

“Oh?”

“Y’know, recess duty—same motion.” He scratched his cheek. “Sorry that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all.” You giggled, giving him a soft, rosy-cheeked grin that made his heart lurch. “...It’s sweet.”

He walked with you to the door and pushed it open. You paused for a moment on the threshold, peering over your shoulder with one last smile.

“See you later, Mr. Harrington,” you teased gently, and he rolled his eyes with a playful groan.

“See you,” he managed, still reveling in the inexplicable joy that you wanted to see him again.

And then you were off, leaving him in the light of the morning that felt warmer. He slipped back into the café, dropping into his seat with a breathless feeling in his chest. Not wanting to go home just yet, he ordered another coffee. His therapist told him it was good for him to be out of the house. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, he realised he’d gone an entire hour without the memories of his past creeping in. No anxiety, no frantic heart pounding from a past he couldn’t escape. 

He smiled to himself as he fiddled with the napkin where your phone number was scrawled. Things were looking up for him, and he was already planning what he was going to say when he called you that evening. 

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

[419jhat]

Eddie's lagging behind his friends at comicon, lazily taking in a particularly cool d20 being sold in the artist alley when he spots her. Seated in a chair, looking bored as fuck while she scrolls on her phone, was the most beautiful Blossom he's ever laid his eyes on. She wasn't wearing the usual outfit. She'd switched it out for something preppy and modern- a pleated pink skirt swishing around her thighs, cute white socks, and a sweater vest that shows off how much she goes to the gym. She looks like she would've called him a freak in high school, but in a sexy way, which is a thought that he doesn't want to reflect on without his therapist present.

"You gonna shoot your shot?" Gareth asks.

Eddie feels like he's been caught.

"I don't know, maybe I will," he says with a shrug.

"She's out of your league, friend. She looks like she'd step on you."

"I know," Eddie sighs.

Gareth looks incredibly unimpressed . "Ugh. Go. Before I leave you standing here like an idiot and she notices you staring. Which you're doing a lot, by the way."

He finishes with a shove right between Eddie's shoulder blades, forcing him to stumble toward Ms. Blossom in a way that catches her attention. And then he has to walk up to her, because he's looking at her and she's looking at him, and neither of them are looking away and it's becoming a whole thing. He walks toward her slowly, because he can't think of what to say, and the way she's playing with her wig is really distracting and cute.

"Uh. Waiting for a Rowdy Ruff Boy?" he jokes awkwardly. Blossom's face morph into pure disgust and Eddie wants to melt into the floor.

"Seriously bro?" she asks with a shockingly deep voice.

Before Eddie can make his brain snap together a response, the other Power Puff Girls are running up to them.

"Steve! I hope you didn't wait long, Chris wanted to get one of those- oh. Hello," Buttercup says, when she notices him. Bubbles' blonde hair is very real, and very cute pulled into pigtails. Buttercup seems to have just dyed hers black for the occasion.

"Hi," Eddie says lamely. He waves at them, for some reason.

Buttercup gasps. "Are you hitting on him? We can leave and come back. Come on, babe," she says, grabbing Buttercup's hand.

"Don't fuck this up!" Bubbles says as she's pulled away.

"Oh my god, ignore them. What did you say?" Steve, apparently, asks. Eddie wants to crawl in a hole and die. He can just feel Gareth laughing behind him.

"It's was a joke. You know, the Rowdy Rough Boys?" Steve doesn't seem to know, so he adds, "the evil boy version of the Power Puff Girls?"

Steve looks down at his clothes as some kind of recognition dawns on his face. "Oh! Shit dude, I haven't seen the show. Rob and her girlfriend just really needed a Blossom."

This is usually the point Eddie would tease Steve about being a poser, but he looks so sincere (and his biceps are so distracting) that his game is totally out of shape. A guy who would don a skirt for his friends? A man after his own heart! He half wants to make up an excuse and leave to save himself from further shame, but he's too enticed by the cute moles on Steve's jaw that he lets himself suffer a little longer.

Steve looks him up and down and asks, "so what are you supposed to be?"

Eddie looks down at his ripped jeans and says, "...me."

He's internally kicking himself for leaving his own outfit in the hotel room.

Steve smiles up at him in a way that shows off his makeup. "Well it's working for you. You know when you first came up to me I thought you were asking me if I wanted to get rough with you."

Eddie laughs awkwardly, cheeks burning, because bombing an interaction this badly is exactly the kind of thing the universe would demand of him. Steve just stares at him. Eddie stares back awkwardly, wondering what he's supposed to even say. He can see Buttercup and Bubbles a few feet away, mouthing something at him combined with a collection of hand gestures he doesn't really understand. Steve sighs. Then he flicks the wig in a way that's kind of flirty and says, "that was an invitation, dude. You gonna take it or sit there and keep staring at my tits?"

And Eddie does take the invitation, thank you very much.

[eddywoww]

Hyper sexual Steve has my heart. A Steve who can’t keep a friendship that isn’t Robin bc he ends up sleeping with all of them. A Steve who slept with all his dad’s friends and caused so much drama that he had to be sent to boarding school and was kicked out in six months because he had an affair with a teacher. Steve who has regular therapy sessions about why he is the way he is but he tries to seduce his therapist and she’s so insulted, she sends him away. Not without sampling the goods first bc they always do. Steve who started a big fight between his moms tennis friends bc he used to go down on them at the country club.

After everything happens in Hawkins, Steve becomes acquainted with Eddie who has little to no interest in Steve. Steve might as well be paint drying on a wall to Eddie. He’s not even really there but Steve didn’t imagine all the flirtation, he didn’t imagine the interest. He wants Eddie so badly that he makes it his mission to get him, even if Eddie might as well hate him.

[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[eufezco]

HOW DID IT END?

How is it that Steve's departure only drove you further apart? How was it possible that the only thing left between you after all was hatred for each other? Maybe these questions could be answered in a therapy session or in a night together.

bucky x fem!reader (angst, smut with plot, lovers to enemies to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

—James, condition of your release, session now.

You looked at Bucky and he looked back at you, pressing his lips together and starting to walk after his therapist, annoyed.

—You too, young lady.

—That's okay, I can wait here with Sam.

—It wasn't a request. Sam, you have front-row seats for the show if you like—. The demanding tone in her voice surprised you and you had no choice but to follow her.

The therapist sat down at the table and opened her notebook. You and Bucky were at the other side of the table, sitting next to each other and in front of the woman. You didn't look at each other, you had not even shared a word. Sam, who was leaning against the wall behind the therapist, looked at both of you and shook his head. Steve was right when he said that you were both equally stubborn.

—So, who would like to start?

—I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is ridiculous.

—Yeah, I agree —. Bucky added.

—See? Making progress already —. She waited a few seconds to see if either of you would like to talk but you and Bucky remained silent. Dr. Raynor sighed, if it was already difficult to deal with him alone, it would be twice as difficult to deal not only with Bucky but also with a copy of him as a woman. —It is my job to make sure you're okay. And yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it's the only way that I can see if you're getting over whatever's eating at you.

You huffed a laugh and Bucky rolled his eyes. Whatever's eating at you? What could possibly be eating at you? There was nothing that-

—So, why don't you both start by telling me what kind of relationship you had with Steve Rogers?

Your expression changed completely when you heard his name. Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, Sam's eyes also went to you as he tensed his back when Dr. Raynow brought Steve up out of nowhere. Bucky decided to start talking but you couldn't hear what he was saying, you could only focus on how tense your jaw was, the knot in your stomach, and all the anger you were feeling.

Just as it was a relief for Bucky to think and talk about Steve, it hurt you. There was never anything romantic about your friendship with Steve, it was purely based on your devotion to him and your mutual admiration and respect.

When you lost Bucky and Steve crashed into the ice, you had no reason to live but before your heart stopped beating, Howard Stark found you and injected you with the serum. And when you woke up there was only Steve, seventy years later and just as confused as you, living in a century that did not belong to you.

You were together during the whole process of readjusting to your new lives. For Steve, you joined a group of people who called themselves the Avengers and fought against the god of mischief in New York. For Steve, you were almost killed by a robot in Sokovia. For Steve, you fought the Winter Soldier. For Steve, you sided against Tony Stark, the son of the man who brought you back to life, and for Steve, you fought, lost, fought again, and won against Thanos.

They say there is no worse heartbreak than that caused by a friend and Steve Rogers stole a piece of your heart when he left.

—Thank you, James. What can you tell us about Steve? —Dr. Raynor asked you.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on one spot. The feeling of betrayal when Steve didn't return within the five seconds set by Bruce still haunted you. —I will never forgive him.

Bucky shook his head as well, he turned to look at you. —You know, Dr. Raynor? I've met her for more than seventy years now and one thing that hasn't changed about her is how selfish she is.

—James, we are not here to make value judgments about the feelings experienced by the other person.

The condescending tone in Bucky's voice made you close your eyes and take a deep breath before you talked. —You were captured by HYDRA, tried to kill us, then went into cryogenic sleep and disappeared with the snap. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through since you never lost Steve because you never had him.

—He was my best friend! —Bucky raised his tone and turned in his chair to look at you.

—You don't even remember a single thing of him before he became Captain America!

Sam called your name. That wasn't Bucky's fault.

—He left because that was the life he fought so many years for! That's the life Steve deserved!

—He was my best friend too! We were together all these years while you were killing people and I had to watch him go! —You did the same as him. That was the first time you looked at each other since the session started and you were yelling at each other. Sam didn't miss any part of the argument, he was with his arms crossed and paying attention to everything you were saying to each other. How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this?

—Okay, that's enough —. The doctor stopped you before it went any further. You and Bucky rested your backs on the chair again, defeated, and your eyes focused on the therapist. —Since this isn't working, we're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they're trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna built together —. The doctor added. Bucky rolled his eyes and you closed yours while shaking your head.

—You are acting as if you were never a couple —Sam said.

—Back in 1940.

—Yeah, eighty-two years ago.

You both said at the same time.

—Come on, turn around, look at each other.

Both of you hesitated for a few seconds but finally turned to face each other. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, it was difficult to keep eye contact with him.

—The exercise is called Everytime I look at you and consists of saying something that you feel or see in the other person every time you look at them. Why don't you start?

As you looked at Bucky, you could see the young soldier, wearing his new uniform proudly and hanging a copy of his dog tag around your neck. Looking into Bucky's eyes you felt again the last kiss he gave you before falling from the train, you heard his last laugh before he was brainwashed by HYDRA, you could even feel the caress of his fingers on your skin before the vibranium covered one of his hands.

—Every time I look at you, you have that lost puppy look on your face, asking for people's sympathy. I can't even look at you because every time I do, your mere presence reminds me that Steve's no longer here and it makes me want to fucking die, and sometimes I wish-

Sam called your name and you stopped talking before you could finish the sentence. Bucky's eyes never left yours. You were saying all that to his face.

—Let her finish, Sam —. Dr. Raynor said.

There was a silence.

—And sometimes I wish you were gone instead of him.

As Bucky looked at you, he could see the young lady he fell in love with even though everything he remembered about her was gone. The sparkle in that girl's eyes could no longer be found in yours, but he couldn't forget how your eyes shone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to dance. Bucky did not forget the sound of your laughter when he told you that he would marry you after the war, even though he was totally serious.

—Every time I look at you I don't recognize you. You have changed for the worse and I'm not sure if I like this version of you. You are mean, you don't allow people to get close to you and you hide and say that it's Steve's fault for leaving. But let me just say...

Bucky could see how you dealt with sadness by turning it into anger, he knew it because he did the same thing. Your jaw tightened and you closed your fists so hard that your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands. You didn't want him to say it, but at the same time, you couldn't wait to hear it.

—... that being a bitch isn't going to bring him back.

As soon as Bucky finished the sentence, you got up from the chair and left the room slamming the door. He didn't react to you leaving, he just sat in the chair asking himself the same question as Sam. How did you come to this? How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this? Sam tried to go after you but he could not keep up with your super soldier speed so he went back to the police station with Bucky and gave him the same look of disappointment that Steve would have given him.

That same night someone knocked on your front door.

You thought it would be Sam because he had been calling you nonstop since you left and you had been ignoring him all day long but when you opened the door, you found Bucky instead.

He took a step closer to you to go inside your house and your hand connected firmly with his cheek. The skin on his face burned right where you had hit him and your body was blocking the doorway. He was just as angry as you were so he gave you a strong push on your shoulders. You managed to keep your balance and he managed to get inside the house and close the door behind him.

Bucky towered you with a challenging attitude, keeping eye contact while forcing you to take a few steps backward. You, despite being shorter than him, did not lower your head. Your breathing was heavy, the tension was too much, you wanted to hit him again and you wanted to say worse things to him than what you said in the therapy session.

When you raised your hand to slap him again, he grabbed your arm with his vibranium hand and squeezed hard enough for it to hurt but you did not give him the pleasure of expressing the pain. The tension was overwhelming. There were only two ways to solve this, either he would let go of your arm and start a fight that wouldn't end until both of you were on the floor exhausted and bleeding, or...

Your bodies collided as you pressed your lips together. Bucky held your face with both hands while his lips devoured yours as your hands pulled on the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms so you could take it off and in that moment you took a few seconds to admire his well-defined abs. He leaned in for another kiss but you pushed him by his shoulder, strong enough for his back to hit against a wall of your house and crack it. Before he could complain, you connected your lips with his again.

Bucky's fingers closed around your neck as a response. Your mouth opened against his lips, trying to get the air that he was keeping from reaching your lungs and Bucky's tongue went pass your lips.

You took a big breath of air once he let go of your neck and he began to unbutton your jeans. He would never admit it but he made sure that you were okay and that he had not taken it too far, especially when your hands went to his shoulders to keep your balance due to the dizziness. And when Bucky thought he had control over you, your fingernails slid painfully from his shoulders to his abdomen and he groaned.

Bucky threw his head back against the wall once your finger sneaked into his jeans and wrapped around his cock. You moved your hand cruelly slow, he had his eyes closed as he bit his lower lip to hold back his moans. You ran your tongue along his collarbone until you reached his earlobe. —I fucking despise you —. You whispered in his ear. He let out a moan and immediately clenched his jaw again. You felt his hips thrust into your hand.

—Fucking same, doll —. Bucky muttered through gritted teeth.

He brought his hands to your ass and squeezed it as he helped you to wrap your legs around his body. Your lips met again as he walked you to the big wooden table in your living room where he helped you to lie down. Bucky pulled his jeans down enough to free his hard cock while you opened your legs to him. He noticed the wet spot on your panties and you noticed the red marks that your fingernails had carved on his chest. As he pulled your panties to the side, your fingers ran over those marks and Bucky hissed.

The head of his cock was more than enough to stretch you open. You repositioned yourself at the table, now sitting up on your elbows to watch as he pushed himself inside of you. You thought he would give you a few seconds to get used to the feeling, but he didn't stop until he was balls deep inside you.

—Now you take it. Make it up for that attitude —. You whined at his words and Bucky rested his forehead against yours while his hips thrusted into yours.

You encircled your legs around his waist and hooked your ankles over the swell of his ass while he kept slamming his hips into you. At that point you couldn't even think straight, he was hitting all the right spots to make your mind foggy. His pace remained fast and hard, and you thought about the serum running through your veins and how you both could keep up with that pace all night long.

Bucky tucked his head into your neck and whispered the filthiest words into your ear, his hands were on your thighs, squeezing your flesh lustfully, he pulled his dick all way out and then pushed in again until his balls were against your pussy. Your fingers tugged his brown hair at the root, getting moans from him because of your tight grip as it encouraged him to fuck you even harder. If that was how hating you felt, he wanted to hate you for all eternity.

When he heard you moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, when your legs fought to close and squeezed his body, when he felt your nails digging into the skin of his back, Bucky pushed your legs up, hooking your legs over his shoulders, and kept fucking you in that position until it became harder and harder for him to keep going because of the tightness of your pussy. You came screaming his name and spasming around him, Bucky came a few seconds later, with a deep groan that made his chest vibrate and emptying himself inside you.

The next morning, when his alarm went off, Bucky was alone in your bed. He took his time to take a shower and grab something from your kitchen for breakfast before he left. Bucky walked to his therapist's office, trying not to give much importance to what happened last night and especially trying not to think about all the horrible things you said to each other earlier that day in front of Sam and Dr. Raynor.

When he entered the office, Dr. Raynor was not alone. Bucky almost apologized and closed the door again, thinking he interrupted someone's session, but then you turned around in your chair and looked at him. He looked back at you, surprised, from the doorway.

You were already inside, now it was up to him to decide whether to go in with you. Bucky didn't have to think about it, he closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to you. You wanted to give yourselves a chance, for your sake, for Steve's sake, and for trying to get back what you two once had.

—Let's try again, shall we? —Dr. Raynor asked with a smile.

[dameronology]

recovery (bucky barnes)

summary: bucky's life has gone to shit. there's only one person who can help. (x)

warnings: this is kinda raw?? and mentions of drinking!! plus swearing.

thank you to @retrosabers for listening to my waffling as i wrote this

enjoy!!

jazz xx

Read, 11:32PM. 

Bucky Barnes missed the days when you didn’t know if someone had read your message. 

He’d never had that problem when pigeon mail was a thing. 

Now, he knew that you’d seen his message. He knew that you had read his lovelorn paragraph and chosen to ignore it. Even worse, you could have just swiped on the message and not taken in a word at all. If this had been the old days, he could have told himself that your lack of response because it had got lost in the mail, or delivered to someone else, or was just taking a while to get there. Now, thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, he knew exactly what happened. And when. And how. 

That was six weeks ago, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he had moved from his mattress since he’d seen those two blue ticks. It didn’t feel like six weeks. That was a long time. There were days when his phone ran out of charge purely because he was staring at your profile picture for so long. You’d changed it now, from one of you and him, to a selfie you took with Steve and Sam at last year’s Christmas Party. It had been cropped every so slightly to remove Bucky from the picture. You could still see the edge of the jaw, but nobody would have known he was there, save for him. 

That left a heavy feeling on his chest. Not just cropping him out the picture, but out of your entire fucking life. Even with his face removed from the picture, Bucky still remembered that night - kissing you at midnight, telling you he loved you at midnight, keeping a strong arm wrapped around your waist the entire time. If he squeezed his eyes shut long enough, he could pretend you were still there. But, he would open them again a few minutes later and realise you were actually just a pile of pillows with eyeliner stains on them.

(He was experimenting with his style post-break up). 

The worst part of it all was that Bucky knew it was his fault. It was his choice to get bad again; his choice to ignore all the warning signs and instead, dive head first back into his old ways. You’d begged and cried and bartered - left the numbers of therapists on the fridge and self helplines on his laptop - and still, he’d not only gone down a slippery slope, but he’d chosen to throw himself. Now, he was at the bottom. You’d peered over the edge for a little while but soon enough, you had no choice but to walk away. 

“Buck!”

There was a thump on the apartment door, but Bucky didn’t answer.

“Bucky, I know you’re in there,” Steve continued. 

“I don’t wanna talk!” Bucky yelled back. 

True to form, Steve Rogers never listened - the door came crashing down a few seconds later, the super soldier landing in an ungraceful pile on top of it. Fucking brilliant, Bucky thought. 

“What part of I don’t want to talk is hard for you to understand?”

Steve let out a sigh, looking at his best friend. Bucky was strewn across the sofa, six or seven empty bottles of Jack Daniels littered on the coffee and table and an eighth in his hand. The whole place smelt like a fucking bar. It was clear that he hadn’t cleaned since you’d left, or maybe even showered. Bucky’s stubble was forming a beard now and his hair was unkempt. Steve hadn’t seen him looking that tired and messy since his first days out of Hydra. 

“Buck, you’re a mess,” Steve said.

“I made my bed, now I’m lying in it.”

“Actually, you’re on the sofa,” he quipped, but his goofy tone soon dropped. “C’mon, buddy. This has been going on for too long.”

Bucky groaned. “I don’t know what else to do. I lost the only one good thing in my life-”

“- and whose fault was that?” Steve cut him off. 

“What?”

“Whose fault was that?” he repeated himself. “I’m not tryna be mean, Buck, but you pushed them away, remember? They tried, and you refused the help.”

“Did you come over here to help me to feel better, or to make me feel worse?” Bucky snapped.

“Man, I came over here to check you were alive,” Steve replied. “Because no one is sure these days.”

“Just leave me be, Steve.”

—

Bucky rotted in peace undisturbed for a few more days. 

That was until Saturday, when there was a violent knock on his (now repaired, post-Steve) door. He lifted his head from the pillow like a confused puppy, pausing for a moment. He glanced at the time - who would be knocking at 11:32PM on a Saturday night. Did people not have hobbies?

“Pizza!”

“I didn’t order pizza!” Bucky called back. “You have the wrong address.”

“You’re J. Barnes, no?”

“Wrong address, buddy! Go away!”

Another second passed, and before Bucky could even blink, his front door came crashing down again. Seriously, why the fuck did people keep doing that? 

He was about to lose his absolute shit, but instead Bucky froze when he saw you. Apparently it was snowing outside, cos there were a few flecks caught in the front of your hair and on your jacket - his actually, that you’d stolen years ago - and boots. And, to be fair, you were also holding a pizza. 

“I said pizza,” you announced yourself. “Also, Steve sent me to help get your head out your ass.”

“W-what?” Bucky stuttered. “You’re back? You came back-”

 “ - I never left, Bucky,” you cut him off. “I just needed to take some time. I couldn’t sit here and watch you throw yourself back into oblivion, which you have done a very good job of, by the way.”

There was a brief pause before you spoke again. 

“You look like shit and smell like a distillery, by the way.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Let me help you…please?”

You opened your arms and in a second, he’d fallen forward and let you envelope him completely. You had always planned on coming back, but you’d had to deal with yourself first; Steve calling had been your sign, though. If he couldn’t help Bucky, then things really were dire. And, without sounding twisted, you’d hoped that actually up and leaving like you’d promised would be a wake up call for Bucky.

It had been. He just needed a kick up the ass - and that’s why you were here.

Bucky nor you spoke for a while after that.

He didn’t say a word as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, rinsing shampoo into his hair, although he did let out a little laugh when you used the bubbles to fashion his hair into one long spike. There was a quiet stay still whenever he tried to move when a razor was near his face, or scissors near his hair, but within the hour, you had Bucky looking like Bucky and less like The Winter Soldier. He looked tired still, of course, but this was the first baby step.

“Do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard. You were sitting on the end of the bed whilst Bucky was drying himself off with a towel; you’d seen his butt enough times, so leaving the room didn’t feel necessary. It did hurt your heart a little to see that he’d lost weight, though, 

You shook your head. “Buck, I could never hate you, and I didn’t stop loving you either.”

His eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. “Really?”

“Are you stupid, Barnes? Of course I didn’t stop,” you shot back. “Like I said, I just couldn’t stand around watching you do that to yourself. I’m sorry for leaving, I really am, but I just wanted you to get better. I still do.”

Bucky took a seat beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll try. I promise. I’ll call one of Stark’s therapists in the morning, and I’ll go for a run, and-”

“- Buck, don’t push yourself,” you cut him off. “Baby steps, okay? And I’m there for every one of them.”

tags: @adelinesmedia

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

One More Step

December prompt: time

485 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers. He’s ignoring the physical therapist to their side, ignoring the doctors walking by the open door. He’s focused completely on Eddie, the way he takes an extra-deep breath before barreling through the motion, swinging one leg in front to take a halting, shuddering step forward. “Good,” Steve whispers. “Good, Eds, almost there, c’mon, one more step. You got this. Just one more step.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “Think ‘m gonna fall.”

“I’ll catch you,” Steve swears. “But you haven’t fallen yet, Eddie. One more step. Then we can go back to your room. Whaddya wanna do? Read? Watch TV?”

Eddie snorts. “Y’mean make f-fun of- of, uh.” He sighs out a breath, wobbles. “The characters.”

“Yeah, like I said, watch TV.” He grins at Eddie, his excitement growing as Eddie takes the final step.

His knees buckle, and he throws his arms out toward Steve, who swoops in and catches him, helps him get his feet back underneath him, shoulders most of his weight as they hobble back to the wheelchair.

Steve never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy. He doesn’t enjoy seeing people in pain. But he does love seeing people triumph, try to push through the pain to success.

Or, maybe, it’s his patient that makes all the difference.

He never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy, and he never thought he’d end up friends with the freak of Hawkins High, but somehow both of those things happened, and now he’s standing in front of the physical therapist as he proclaims Steve ready to assist Eddie on his own.

“He’s set to be released at the end of the week,” the therapist tells Steve, who nods. He’d gotten the same information from the doctor that morning. “He’ll need to do these exercises every day. Is that something you’d be willing and able to do?”

“Definitely,” Steve nods firmly.

The therapist smiles, shakes his hand. “Then congratulations on your first patient,” he jokes, but Steve’s smile as he turns to Eddie couldn’t be more real.

“You ready to get outta here?”

Eddie huffs a tired laugh. “No offense, Doc, but if I never have to come back it’ll be too soon.”

He just laughs, waving them out.

The exercises don’t get easier to do, but Eddie gets stronger, and he’s able to walk more. Soon enough he’s walking almost the full length of the hallway upstairs.

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve tells him, at the other end of the hallway. “You’ve got this.”

Eddie’s first few steps are easy, confident. About halfway through he slows down, and by the time he’s two steps away from Steve, he’s wobbling. “C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers, an echo of the first time. “One more step.”

He manages the last two steps, falls into Steve’s arms. “Thank you,” he whispers, painting the lightest of kisses onto Steve’s lips.

Steve grins and kisses back.

[pretentious-blonde]

steady

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: healing is never easy, but steve surprises even himself with his progress

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, therapy sessions, depression

a/n: angst!! robin makes an appearance too. steve is kind of smitten and he loves it <3

series masterlist

Steve slouched in the passenger seat of Robin’s car, sunglasses perched on his nose, hiding the tension marring his features. If you could see him, you’d notice the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his hands rested in tight fists on his thighs. 

He kept his eyes shut against the morning light—though the tinted lenses helped, the brightness still drilled into his temples, intensifying the dull, throbbing ache that had settled behind his eyes. The quiet inside the vehicle was unusually deliberate, a courtesy Robin extended with careful consideration.

She was never one to enjoy silence, but she was trying. Like she always did for him.

He shifted, pressing his head a bit further into the seat. The sound of tires on asphalt rolled beneath them like thunder, matching the faint ringing in his ear. It was a small remnant of older injuries—injuries he’d earned through too many head-on collisions with fists and floors. 

Still, he felt lucky. After all, pain was a familiar adversary, and these headaches came around far less frequently than they used to.

A glance at her told him all he needed to know: her shoulders stiff with concentration, hands gripping the wheel lightly, eyes skimming across the road. She gave him a little smile, more a twitch than anything. She’d barely spoken a word since he got in, not wanting to rile his migraine. It reminded him of just how fiercely she cared.

They were heading to his weekly appointment, a routine that once felt more like a punishment than a path to healing. He’d spent his first two sessions in complete silence, arms crossed, mouth sealed shut.

Steve Harrington didn't need a therapist. The idea of seeing felt like admitting defeat. But Robin—gentle, but tearful—had practically dragged him back, desperately pleading for her best friend to return to himself. 

The memory arose every time he buckled in for these drives, reminding him that sometimes letting people in was the only way to get out of the mess in his head.

“Almost there,” Robin said softly, her voice subdued. A pang of guilt flared inside him; he knew she had better things to do on her Saturday morning than play chauffeur. Yet here she was. She always was when he needed her. 

He opened his eyes as the car glided into the parking lot, the movement so careful it barely jolted him. The world outside looked too bright—even through sunglasses—and his headache began to pulse in protest. When she killed the engine, she turned to him, eyes filled with caution.

“You alright with getting in?” she asked. Her voice was as gentle as her driving.

“Yeah.” Drawing in a breath and forcing a small, wry smile. “Pretty sure I remember the way.” He joked through the dull throb in his skull.

She nodded, and he carefully pushed the door open. The sudden rush of cooler air felt refreshing. A stab of pain shot through his temple, and he winced, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun. As he stood, he turned back toward her. 

“I just… I wanna say I’m sorry again, for waking you up and making you drive me. I hate—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand before he could finish. “It’s no problem. Seriously.” 

There was reassurance in her tone, and it squeezed his heart. He hated imposing, but her unwavering support was something he grew to accept.

“What you gonna do for the hour?” he asked, a little softer now.

“I’ve got my reading material. I’m all set.” She patted a worn paperback tucked into the side of the driver's door. She waved him off, managing a playful eye-roll. “Now go. You’ll be late.”

He nodded and headed towards the entrance, stepping through the lobby steadily as not to jostle his head around. The walls were painted in cool tones that did nothing to ease the piercing sunlight still dancing at the edges of his vision.

Despite that, he managed a half-smile at the receptionist—he’d been here enough times now to know the woman, though he never quite remembered her name. He headed for Dr Avery’s office, following the familiar hallway until he found the right door.

He knocked once, the sound dull against the wood, and a voice called from within. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, he hesitated, sunglasses still shielding his eyes. The elderly doctor glanced up from a small stack of files, his expression softening into a gentle smile. 

“Migraine?” he asked, and though his voice was calm, concern wove through it.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a huffed laugh, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. In response, Dr Avery rose from behind his desk, crossing the room to draw the blinds. Morning sunlight turned softer, and the shift in brightness made his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Better?” Dr Avery said, settling back into his chair. 

In one smooth motion, Steve slid his sunglasses off, resting them on his knee as he sank into the chair opposite. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the dimmer light settle over him. 

“Much,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips against his temples. 

Silence hung in the room. It was gentle in the way Dr Avery seemed to cultivate it in all their sessions. 

“So, how has your week been?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a one-shouldered shrug. 

“It’s been alright,” he answered, gesturing toward his temple with the hand clutching his glasses. “Apart from, you know…”

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a migraine.” Dr Avery nodded, thoughtful. “Any idea what might’ve triggered it?”

“Not really,” Steve said, mouth tightening into a line. “Didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Any reason for that?” came the quiet prompt.

He shrugged, gaze drifting away. “Same old dreams.”

There was a pause—a measured moment that the doctor always seemed to use to let Steve choose how much he wanted to reveal. 

“Still bad?” He finally asked when he realised he wouldn’t elaborate. 

“They’ve died down a bit this week.” He exhaled, brow furrowing. “Guess my mind’s been busy with other stuff.”

A knowing spark crossed Dr Avery’s eyes. 

“Drama with the kids?”

A snort of laughter startled from Steve’s chest, a quick bloom of humour in the midst of his fatigue. 

“No, not quite,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Though Lucy still can’t tie her shoes. You’d think she’d have mastered it by now with all my help, but… nope.”

“Is that so?” Dr Avery asked, lips quirking in amusement.

“Yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes in that trademark exasperation that came from too many hours spent cajoling a stubborn little girl to make bunny ears with the laces. “She should just stick to Velcro. Less drama that way.”

A comfortable chuckle passed between them, the air relaxing for a moment. But he wasn’t surprised when Dr Avery steered them back on track—he’d noticed long ago how adept the therapist was at re-centring him whenever he started wandering off-topic.

Which—in his defence—Steve was especially prone to.

“So,” Dr Avery said gently, leaning forward a bit, “what’s really been on your mind lately?”

Steve’s hand tightened around the armrest of the chair. The lighthearted spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer. He took a slow breath, like he was trying to gather the right words.

“I... I met someone…” He said slowly, feeling the words out. 

His confession hung in the air—three simple words, but they carried a weight that was far greater than the simple sentence. 

He held his breath for a moment, as though he were afraid that speaking it out loud might shatter the illusion. He could practically see Dr Avery’s features shift into gentle encouragement, the slight lift of eyebrows and a softness around his eyes. 

It was the same look the therapist always gave him whenever Steve cracked open the door to something new, something vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, tried to muster some of that confidence people used to say he had in spades back in high school. It felt a little rusty, but it was there, somewhere beneath the bruises.

“Who is this someone?” Dr Avery asked quietly. Knowing the importance of the question.

Steve couldn’t stop the small grin that crept onto his face. He fiddled with the sunglasses perched on his knee—still mindful of the headache pressing at his temples, but somehow the ache felt muted by a rush of something much sweeter. 

“She’s new in town,” he began, voice a little shy, “took over the old bookshop. You know the one down on Oak? Kids needed some books, so I asked if she could deliver them. And she did—personally.” He shook his head in astonished awe. “I mean, talk about customer service, right? Even managed to track down some of my favorite titles on, like, super short notice.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved into a smile. “She sounds nice.”

“You have no idea,” Steve replied, eyes lighting up as memories tumbled through his mind. He had to fight back the grin that threatened to become almost giddy. “When she came by the school, I asked her out for coffee. Honestly, I thought she’d say no—I mean—I barely even know her—she was just doing her job. But she said yes.” He let out an incredulous little chuckle. “Even looked happy I asked.”

“So, you met up with her?”

“Twice,” Steve confirmed, leaning forward in his seat as though admitting a grand secret. “We got coffee both times—nothing serious, but…” He paused, remembering the feeling of those events. In the coffee shop’s atmosphere, he’d felt almost normal, like he could forget the the weight of the last few years. 

“She laughed at my jokes,” he continued, voice tinged with a note of disbelief, “and I mean really laughed—not just being polite—she actually thought I was funny.”

He couldn’t quite disguise how much that simple fact thrilled him. For so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel that weightless. You didn’t know every part of him yet. And in that ignorance, there was a freedom he hadn’t felt in ages.

Steve glanced down at his sneakers, twisting the sunglasses in his hands as though he couldn’t quite meet Dr Avery’s gaze. After a moment, he exhaled softly and spoke again.

“She, uh… she called me a few nights ago,” he began, running a hand through his hair. “It was late—maybe past ten? I was cleaning up—you know, trying to settle down for the night. Then the phone rang. I kind of panicked for a second before I heard her—I mean, nobody usually calls that late on a school night, unless—”

He paused, eyes flicking up to gauge Dr Avery’s reaction. The therapist merely offered a small, encouraging nod, so Steve continued, his voice growing steadier as he found the story’s thread.

“Turns out she was reworking her finances,” he explained. “Something about spreadsheets and reorganising… stuff—moving money around, I don’t know. Not my thing. She sounded stressed, though. Tired. I could hear it in her voice—even when she tried to laugh it off, there was this… tension, you know?”

“She asked me if I could just… tell her about my day.” His gaze trailed to a spot on the floor, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Said she needed something to take her mind off the numbers, something that’d make her smile.” He shook his head, as if still in mild disbelief. “And I did—told her anything I could think of. Stupid stuff. But every time she asked me more I—”

A faint flush of color touched his cheeks as he forced himself to stop rambling. He shifted in his chair, the memory clearly stirring emotions he was still getting used to. 

“Honestly,” he admitted with a small shrug, “by the end of that call, I was the one feeling better—like, just by giving me a reason to talk. It was… I don’t know.” His smile broadened as he grasped for the right words. “It felt good to be that guy again.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved in a thoughtful smile, and he leaned forward as though to speak. But Steve, caught up in the rush of the memory, beat him to it.

“I guess that’s why I’m so thrown off by how easy it’s been,” he said, voice going soft. “I was worried I wouldn’t know how to do this. But with her… it’s just been simple.”

He let out a slow breath, hands finally coming to rest on his knees, attention lifting to meet the doctor. His eyes held a sheen, a hope that felt fragile but very, very real.

“So, yeah,” Steve finished, voice hushed. “She called me, and I ended up talking her ear off. Turns out we both needed that call.”

Dr Avery, picking up on that far-off look in Steve’s eyes, nodded approvingly. 

“I’m really happy for you, Steve,” he said. “Truly. This is a big step.”

His cheeks felt a little warm, and he shrugged as if to downplay it. 

“It’s—yeah, well, it’s not like we’re official or anything,” he joked weakly, but there was a trace of a blush there that gave him away.

“No, Steve, really,” Dr Avery pressed, leaning forward. “Think about you this time last year. You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing aside. “When you put it like that…”

Dr Avery’s expression brightened with approval. “Would you like to talk about what you want to do next?”

Steve’s eyes shot back up, and there was a flash of that old charismatic grin—boyish, genuine. 

“Sure,” he said, settling a little more comfortably into the chair. And he meant it, because he knew exactly what he wanted to spend the rest of this session talking about. 

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was walking toward the bookshop. In fact, he was pretty certain that turning around would be the more logical, less awkward option. But even as the thought crossed his mind, his feet kept moving forward—one in front of the other—carrying him down the quiet street. The evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the storefronts in long shadows. 

He told himself it was a casual visit—you were just on his way home. That was all. After his session this morning and an afternoon spent napping off his migraine, he needed some fresh air. Dr Avery’s words stuck in his head, all that gentle encouragement about letting himself explore how he felt. 

So here he was, hoping he didn’t look like some creep for showing up out of the blue. 

By the time he reached your door, the shop lights shone softly in the evening dim. He hesitated for a split second before pushing inside, setting off the familiar chime of the overhead bell. 

No turning back now.

“Hello?” he called softly, stepping past a stack of books near the entrance.

“Steve?” Your voice echoed from somewhere off to the side, recognising his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” he answered, glancing around the shelves.

“Round here!” you directed.

He followed your voice and turned the corner—and immediately his heart lurched. 

You were on a rickety ladder, precariously reaching for a high shelf. Before he could even say a word, the ladder lurched dangerously to one side, and his instincts kicked in, sharp as ever due to his line of work.

He surged forward, grabbing the frame to hold it steady. The sudden jolt of movement made you stumble, and you shot him a sheepish look as you clung to a shelf.

“Whoa—hey,” he said, breath tight in his chest as he stabilised you. “I spend all day trying to avoid broken bones, now I gotta to look out for yours, too?”

You looked down at him, a pang of sympathy stirring at the worry across his face. His hands remained firmly gripping the ladder, but his eyes were filled with concern.

You mumbled a flustered apology, claiming you were nearly finished. But he didn’t buy it. 

“Sure you were.” He gave the ladder a cautionary glance. “Please, just…get down? Before you break your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Rolling your eyes, you began to climb down, one careful step at a time. 

Reaching the floor, you rested a hand on his shoulder for balance. It was a small gesture, but warmth prickled across the back of his neck. 

He liked being the steady one for a change.

“You need a new ladder,” he said, trying to sound more authoritative than concerned.

“If it lasted this long, it’s fine,” you scoffed, though he could tell you knew how bad it was. He bit back the urge to argue, exhaling a quiet laugh at your stubbornness.

Once you were safely on your own two feet, you turned to face him, dusting off your hands. 

“So, back already for new reading material?”

He blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of his spontaneous visit. 

“Uh—no, actually.” He cleared his throat, searching for something that sounded casual. “You were just on my way home, and, y’know…felt rude not to say hi.”

His heart tripped over itself as you offered a small smile. 

“Hi,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

“Hi,” he echoed, a bit breathless. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He coughed to break the silence. “So, um—doing some reorganising ‘round here?”

“Sort of,” you gestured toward two large boxes in the corner. “Got a delivery yesterday. I was putting it away before I nearly met my demise on that death trap.”

His gaze shifted to the boxes. “That’s… quite a few books.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “my supplier wanted to clear out some stock, so he gave me a really good deal. Now I kinda regret it, because I’m gonna be stuck here all evening.”

His posture straightened. The chance to help—to be useful—sparked a little excitement in him. 

“I can stay,” he offered, maybe too quickly. “I mean—I can help. If you want.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “No, you don’t have to do that on your day off. I feel guilty just thinking about it.”

“Seriously,” he shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’m weirdly good at organising stuff. Used to work at the video store—returns master, right here.” He pointed at himself, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

He had always thought that job would never prepare him for anything, yet here it was—proof that even the worst gigs could have their silver linings. He found himself almost grateful to Keith for all the menial tasks he’d been forced to complete while working there.

You giggled at his proud proclamation, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through him. 

“I still feel bad making you work.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he admitted, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance, though he couldn't fully hide his eagerness. “Really. Let me help.”

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, lifting your hands in mock defeat. “You take the box on the left. I’ll take the one on the right.”

“Deal,” he said, stepping up to the nearer box. He pried open the cardboard flaps, inhaling the familiar scent of new books and packing paper. 

It took you less than an hour to reach the bottom of the boxes, with Steve finishing his first and immediately jumping in to help with yours. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was good at alphabetising. Only asking intermittently about which genre section he should place them in.

He sank onto the velvet couch with a satisfied sigh, leaning his head against the backrest. The shop felt cosier now that all the new arrivals were tucked away on the shelves, along with the soft lanterns overhead. He had to give it to you, this place really was charming. 

“That was faster than I expected,” you remarked, settling beside him. 

“What’d I tell you?” He shot you a playful grin. “Basically a professional.”

"You’re full of surprises," you muse, nudging his knee lightly with yours.

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of something pleased in his expression. It feels good to be praised by you specifically.

You tilt your head, watching him for a moment. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little,” he starts to shake his head. “But honestly, don’t worry—"

“Wait here.” You sprang to your feet, practically bouncing toward the back of the shop and up the stairs that led to your apartment above. He watched you go, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyelids feeling heavier. The place felt oddly empty without your presence, but he still found it comforting nonetheless.

He felt truly at ease here, already picturing himself marking homework—messy sums and misspelt words scattered across the pages. It would be a relief not to do it under the harsh glare of the classroom lights; maybe it would even help with his headaches.

God, he was getting ahead of himself.

Light footsteps on the stairs made him blink awake. You appeared, carefully balancing two steaming mugs. The soft light from the overhead bulbs illuminated the proud smile on your face.

“Oh?” He sat up straighter, intrigued. “What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate,” you announced proudly, offering him one of the mugs as you begin quote him. “Apparently 'everyone likes it.'”

He took the mug gently, trying not to pay too much attention as your fingertips against his. 

“That they do,” he chuckled, voice low. "Thanks."

You looked so pleased—like you were giving him a gift far more precious—and it made his chest tighten. You settled in next to him again, blowing on the surface of your drink. Your gaze flicked over his face. 

“Were you falling asleep on me?” you teased.

“Never,” he insisted, taking a sip. Warm sweetness spread across his tongue, making him sigh in contentment. “Just had a long day.”

“Well, now I feel even worse for making you stick around.”

“Hey,” he said, shaking his head and lifting his mug in mock salute, “It’s worth the reward.”

A small smile touched your lips. “Fair enough.”

He cleared his throat, trying not to look too anxious as he ventured. 

“So, are you gonna be busy next week?” He kept his eyes on the rising steam so you wouldn’t catch just how much this question mattered to him.

“Not sure.” You gave a casual shrug. “Sometimes this place is packed, other times it’s dead quiet. But I like it—I get to meet new people. It’s one of the best parts of owning a shop, you know? Everyone eventually wanders in.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He nodded. “Hawkins isn’t huge, so…makes it easier to get familiar with folks.”

“Quality over quantity, right?” you quipped, and Steve swore you shot him a sidelong look that made the tips of his ears burn. He swallowed, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face.

He took another sip of cocoa. 

“Right,” he echoed. Then, his heart thrumming, unable to stop from himself from blurting out the question. “See me next week?”

“Huh?” You blinked, a bit confused. 

Realising how direct that sounded, he fumbled to correct himself. 

“I mean—are you free next week? We could…do something. Grab dinner?”

He hoped his recovery was smooth, maybe he was coming on a little strong, but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he’d felt hopeful about something, and every time he was around you, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. 

Call him selfish, but if you’d let him, he wanted to soak up as much of you as he could.

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, followed by a delighted smile. “I can be free on Wednesday, I think.”

“Great.” He nodded, doing his best not to look too excited. “I’ll—I’ll book us a table somewhere. A restaurant.”

He could practically feel the adrenaline in his veins. It’d been way too long since he planned an actual dinner date, and the thought of sharing that with you felt electric.

“Do I need to dress fancy?” You grinned. It was a playful question, but he noticed a little bashfulness in your tone.

“Nah,” he said offhandedly, warmth pooling in his stomach. “You’d look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

He said it so nonchalantly that it caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed with colour, a gentle rose you tried to hide behind the rim of your mug. But he still caught the flush and felt his heart leap, safe in the knowledge that you might also feel the same as he did.

He drained the last of his hot chocolate, the flavour still clinging to his lips as he handed the mug back. 

"Thanks," he said as you took his cup.

"I think I should be the one saying that," you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, leading the way to the exit, but before stepping out, he glanced back at you. 

"See you Wednesday?"

You chuckled—he always repeated your plans back to you. It was endearing, but deep down, he needed the reassurance. When it came to you, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

"See you Wednesday," you echoed.

His grin was immediate and genuine, cheeks warming to match yours. With one last look, he slipped out the door, carrying that sweet moment with him all the way home.

Now, all that was left was to call Robin (obviously) and figure out what restaurant to book. He kicked himself for not asking what kind of food you liked, but he liked to think you trusted him with the choice.

It felt good—being in control again.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi

[anika-ann]

Thirst for Life (As It Is) - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 3,7k

Summary: You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

A slice of life kind of fic, a moment of love life of Steve Rogers and his beloved.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, fingering, oral (F rec), allusions to penetrative sex, brief mention of canon typical injuries, briefest allusions to angst, FLUFF, dorks in love

A/N: Super belated entry for Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge hosted by @steviebbboi. Thank you for hosting and congrats again💕 I got inspired by the prompt Aw, does it feel good right here?🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love? Does it feel good right there?"

A blatant, wicked tease, rewarded by a breathless curse spilling from parted lips, a soundless complaint.

Unable to help yourself, you giggled, kissing the spot again, earning a grunt – a sound of protest and approval alike.

“Just you wait…” Steve muttered, annoyed and somewhat fond at once, groaning when you pressed with your fingers this time, feeling the tight knot right under his right shoulder blade as if growing thicker to rebel against your care. “And this isn’t funny.”

You licked your lips, biting back to fight another laugh and losing anyway.

“Come on, Steve… it’s a little funny.”

It was a little funny.

Steve Rogers, a mighty supersoldier, all muscle and broadness, filling the space of the large bed. A paragon of strength and justice, shoulders wide enough to carry the weight of the world, his heart a shield for those who needed protection, his shield the heart of the Avengers. A seemingly fearless leader, a strategic mastermind, an excellent fighter; the embodiment of masculinity and power and righteousness and love.

All that and more – brought to its knees by a pulled muscle.

Of course, if it were up to Steve only, he would not even let this slow him down, not in the slightest, let alone bring him down his knees. Oh no.

It was your gentle offer; a soft touch of a hand, a sweet promise, a confession and a plea on your lips.  

“Let me help, love.”

A gaze of mutual affection exchanged; a kiss to his lips to seal the deal with tenderness you knew your might have to abandon if you wanted to help set his body right.

It was a little funny.

The huge hunk of supersoldier muscle, turned into a puddle of a man under your touch. You treated him with as much skill as you would any other client or a patient of yours, if perhaps with a little softer care and with considerably less professionalism.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; Steve Rogers was infinitely much more to you. The love radiating from the depth of your heart turned tangible in his proximity; undeniably present in your touch, be it your hands or your lips trying to sooth the pain, be it you straddling his hips which seemed almost absurdly narrow in comparison of the enormity of his shoulders, be it your words of affection or gentle teasing.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; most of those who came in specifically with a pulled muscle were there because they had been helping a friend moving furniture, overestimated themselves in a gym, or snapped their head to the side too fast.

Your boyfriend of almost one year, on the other hand, had pulled a muscle when lifting a goddamn car off of someone to whose rescue he had rushed to.

Pressing against the knot, gently but firmly enough to make Steve groan – a sound of complaint bleeding into one of gratitude as you gradually released the pressure – you allowed the piece of information about him having practically lifted a car wash over you again, the astonishment at absurdity and curiosity of life fresh as if it was something entirely new to you.

But it wasn’t. It most definitely wasn’t the first time you had been confronted with this part of who Steve was. It wasn’t the first time you were confronted with how much the serum had enhanced his strength and possibly stubbornness, with what he did for living and how, or with the insistent calling in his very soul to help and serve and be nothing but a profoundly good man. It was hardly the first time and yet you guessed it would never cease to amaze you.

His good heart and his kind soul. His brilliant mind and his incredible body. A man all strong and resilient, but not invincible, not unbreakable.

And perhaps that was where the laugh was coming from – the reason why you couldn’t quite help yourself but tease him, why you couldn’t quite stop giggling.

The relief.

Because Steve Rogers – one of the greatest heroes of your time and the past alike – coming back home with only a pulled muscle was nothing short of a miracle, and this was how your strained body and mind expressed the utter, overwhelming relief coursing your veins.

Because Steve came home. Home to you.

Another day, another save.

Another day he could have caught a knife to his gut or to his neck. Another day he could have caught a bullet an inch from his heart or straight through. Another day he could have been taken and tortured for information or for the twisted fun of hurting Captain America.

None of that had happened.

Instead, it was another day Steve came home to you in one piece. Even if tired and with a pulled muscle.

You’d count your blessings, over and over, more so since you knew how and why he had pulled that muscle; gold of heart and dumb of ass, he couldn’t have waited for someone to come help him, not when the man who had been pinned under a damn car was so clearly and understandably in pain.

Steve’s mind was a brilliant thing, coming up with impenetrable strategies, with a plan B for the plan B and with a plan C and D just in case, carefully predicting outcomes and calculating risks; sometimes he just got bad at math when calculating risks for himself when he couldn’t bear seeing others suffer.

You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

And he’d let you, even if the first time you had met had certainly not been the case. Not with him having been dragged in, after having his knee busted in a fight, arguing that he did not need anyone’s help, because he was enhanced by the supersoldier serum and his body had always healed on its own. You wouldn’t have it; you had met all the unwilling patients and sceptics. So you took one glance at the man who had literally dragged him in – his best friend, Bucky Barnes, seemingly more exhausted by his attitude than by the fact he had been carrying a significant weight of the huge pile of muscle Steve Rogers was – and then took another look at the man behind the shield himself, before you listed all the muscles, tendons and bones that would have begged him to differ in reaction to such claim.

To this day, you were not quite sure whether it had been your knowledge or your ability to simply not have his attitude that had impressed him more, but later you would find out his attitude was more about him feeling like others needed your help more than him and less about him questioning your field or expertise. That had mattered to you; what mattered also was that Bucky was never going to let you or Steve live your so-called meet-cute down, claiming he knew right away Steve had fallen in love the very second.

So you’d count your blessing and you’d let yourself feel whatever came, and you’d let yourself be consumed by the love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

You let yourself laugh again even as Steve grumbled under you, muttering something about maybe deserving it. You appreciated the self-awareness. You appreciated him.

You smiled as you let your hands roam with purpose, warm touch mapping out his pains and still taking moments to caress and indulge in exploring his body, cherishing the beautiful view of the expanse of his back and the feel of his strength yielding to your care with endless trust.

“I feel a little less treated and little more objectified at this point,” he muttered, a smile evident in his voice even before your gaze flickered to his face, now turned to side as he rested his cheek on the back of his hand.

One corner of your lips rose higher, barely a flicker of shame in your chest. You’d never violate a patient or a client like that; but you’d also never miss a chance to feel closer to Steve, miss a chance to touch him, to cherish the contact and to make him feel loved.

“Is there a complaint you’d like to submit, sir?” you questioned, a wide smile setting on your lips as he hummed in disapproval.

Still, you finished the treatment with a last few strokes that were indeed more of a gentle closing than anything else, climbed off of him and pulled the blanket over his naked back to keep the muscles warm.    

He blinked his eyes open as you sat by his side on the bed, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

The second he reached out his hand to hold you, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, making him huff but obediently stop his progress.

“You know the rules, Steve. Stay still for a bit, let the body process. I’ll bring you some fluids.”

He sighed, squinting at you with adorable defiance. “I do know… I don’t have like it. Maybe just a minor complaint then.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him on the pillow, feeling your heart tremble in thorough warmth as he observed you with sleepy intent and a look closest to adoration you had ever seen.

“What’s that, Captain Rogers?” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

You relaxed into the mattress, shoulders slumping, heart a second from melting as the lightest and most delightful feeling spread through your veins, a rush so powerful it almost chased tears into your eyes.

To care and be cared for; to love and be loved, so utterly you had never believed it possible until you met Steve Rogers, most certainly the love of your life.

Reaching out, your fingertips lightly caressed his cheek, his eyelids slipping shut; you brushed over the arches of his brows, over the slope of his nose, over his lips – instantly pursing for a light kiss to your fingers – and caressed his scalp, only to meet his gaze again, so tender you felt something inside your soul shift and shudder in pure happiness.

“I know you will when I need it,” you assured him, bringing a ghost of a smile to his face. “And I’m pretty sure that’s the idea. That we’re supposed to be taking care of each other, love.”

A sparkle lit up his tired eyes, his smile turning positively goofy.

“I like that,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said, pressing another kiss to his forehead and climbing to your feet. “Now be a good patient and stay still for a bit, just like everyone else… no matter how special you are to me.”

“Mmm, if you say so… I love you.”

You fought the urge to lie next to him, reminding yourself that if you got him fluids now, you could lie with him and bask in his warmth later and with no interruptions.

“I love you too, Steve.”

By the time you got back, hands clean of the essential oil and full with a mug of tea and a tall glass of water, you found him fast asleep, still on his front, arms hugging his pillow.

Not bothering to fight off your smile this time, you set the mug on the nightstand, tucked the blanket higher to his chin and climbed up to the bed to sit and prop up on the headboard.

You reached for the engagement ring you had taken off for the massage first and put it back where it belonged, and only then for your half-read book, gaze once more flickering to man who had stolen your heart and would never give it back.

Attention divided, you read; but mainly you kept your future husband company, watching over his peaceful and more than deserved sleep.

Because that was what you were supposed to do; watch over each other, look out for one another, and take care of each other.

And in a few months, you’d promise to continue doing that with love for the rest of your lives, swearing so in front of your friends and families.

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love?” he teased, every syllable dripping off his lips rich and heady like honey, and even with your eyes fluttered shut, you could see his beautifully wicked smile, the spark in his eyes that shone dark, lit alive in a way that was reserved for you; and only for you. “Does it feel good right there?"

You recognized the echo of your own words, Steve’s voice coloured with sweet vindication. He knew exactly what he was doing and he revelled in it; you would protest and complained again if your lips remembered how to speak beyond Steve’s name and breathless pleas. You would protest if you truly wanted to and he would stop in an instant. You would protest if your hands were not literally tied.

Again, unlike your other patients, all Steve had needed was your skilled touch and a good rest. A few hours of sleep, Erskine’s serum working its magic and he had been good to go; perhaps not for another mission, not for a training session, but for repaying your service with love and adoration and desire.

Hugging your middle after waking up, resting his head over your thigh, he had sent a single glance up at you and you had very well forgotten what you had been reading.

He had kissed your palms in thank you, one and then the other, lingering with his gaze and his lips, and you had already been forgetting your own name.

He had pressed a kiss to your wrists, wrapping them in satin like a precious gift, smiling as he had to ruck up the sleeves of his very shirt you had chosen to wear to bed to do so.

He had ghosted his lips over your fingertips as he tied your wrists to the headboard, making sure you rested your hands, the most important asset for your work; conveniently putting your engagement ring on display for him to see at all times while doing so.

He had met your lips in a kiss so sultry you barely caught your breath, before they strayed over every inch of newly revealed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt, lingering in all his and your favourite places, hands roaming, caressing, holding, owning.

You arched against his mouth when he reached his prize, forearm draping over your middle, keeping you grounded as he lifted you towards the stars once, almost for the second time, until his fingers joined to show off his own talented touch and to bring you to the brink of madness.

“Did not quite catch that, sweetheart,” he muttered to the burning skin of your inner thigh, rendering you speechless with his tongue before you could catch your wits and answer. “I suppose I should try again…”

“Steve-“

“Right here, love… give me one more. Let me take care of you… you said you knew I would take care of you when you’d need it, didn’t you? Do you need it now, love?”

Steven Grant Rogers, you little shit- was the thought that flew through your head so fast you couldn’t hope to catch it let alone verbalize it. Not with how your head was beginning to spin when his lips, his hands, his wicked tongue and seemingly innocent filthy talk carried by his deep voice overwhelmed your senses and chased you higher and closer to your peak with every passing torturous second.

“Yes-“ was what actually spilled from your lips breathily, followed by a keen of please.

“Then be good and stay still.”

Steve’s dark mischievous gaze met yours, the erotic sight of him between your legs, wide shoulders barely fitting, with his palm sprawled to your belly and seemingly enjoying himself thoroughly was your undoing, along with things he did and you could not hope to put into words; not when your vision whited out with a cry of his name and wave of numbing bliss washing over you and pulling you under.

You were trying to catch your breath as he let you ride out your high, firm, wet languid kisses pressed to your thighs, your stomach, your breasts with just a graze of teeth to both increase your pleasure and to satisfy the man who loved to get lost in exploring your body and consuming you whole.

When his lips finally met yours again, you did not care you still hadn’t quite earned enough oxygen, whimpering against the demanding kiss as Steve’s fingers curled just to press at the spot again, while he casually rested his weight on his elbow, left hand interlacing his fingers with yours to feel the ring he had slipped on your finger just a few weeks ago.

“Love you so much, sweetheart. Love seeing you like this, so beautiful, so blissed out and so, so mine…” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had been the one to crying out in ecstasy.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Instinctively moving to touch him, to keep him closer, you tugged at the soft fabric around your wrists, huffing in frustration when all you could do was squeeze Steve’s hand tighter.

“Hands, love?” you pleaded, arching your body against his, hovering too high for your taste even when your bare chest brushed his, your body drinking hungrily the heat which his own was radiating. “Want to touch you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

As thoroughly distracting as his lips were, pressing back to yours as he blindly loosened the knots, your hands sprang the moment you were free, sighing as the utter delight at holding onto your lover flooded every cell of your body, fingers raking through his hair, digging into his back to pull his closer to your embrace.

His lips eased the pressure, nose bumping yours, fingertips brushing your cheek tenderly, his smile as sweet as sinful, and when you blinked your eyes open, you couldn’t but bask in the blinding light of adoration shining in Steve’s blown pupils.

“You alright, sweetheart? Can you take more?”

The question nor the concern were new; yet they tasted as lovely as Steve’s smile when he leaned in to kiss you again.

You ran your hand down the lovely expanse of his back, pressing to meet his hardness, a wordless agreement.

“Yes, just… be careful.”

Steve’s lips parted from yours with a wet pop, genuine worry instantly overtaking his features, his weight easing from your body – almost making you regret what you were about to say when he’d inevitably ask-

“Are you hurting? Did I do anything-“

“I’m fine, Stevie…” you assured him, brushing a lose strand away from his forehead, smoothening the crease that formed there, your wildly pounding heart shivering from his tender care for you, his consideration, his willingness to walk away from chasing his own pleasure and just hold you should you wish so for whatever reason.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his frown only deepening with disapproval as he probably thought you were about to downplay whatever it was that bothered you, what he had done to hurt you or was causing you pain – like Mr. Hypocrite, your softest, biggest love.

“No need to worry, Steve. I just want you to be careful, you know… you might pull a muscle and need medical and fluids after.”

A beat of silence, bated breaths.

And then you were bursting out with laughter at Steve’s scandalized expression, the sound blending into a yelp as he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you to the air. He stood up in a whirlwind of a movement, spinning you until your back hit the wall, blow softened by his palm while his other moved under your bottom, fingers digging to your flesh, pinning you to the hard surface by his hips, his chest, and mainly by his lips crashing against yours, stealing the laughter from you very lungs, drinking your love from the very bottom of your heart.

He nipped at your bottom lip, hips bucking against yours, his voice a sultry promise you couldn’t wait for him to make good on; for all the teasing, you knew that indeed, your Steve would have caring for you at the forefront of his mind. You could feel his love undeniably present in his touch, be it his hands or his lips, be it his words of affection or the gentle, exhilarating threats:

“Oh just you wait, love… we’ll see who’ll need what after I’m done with you… I was so well-taken care of by my future wife, I think I want to start training for our wedding night. And sweetheart,” he whispered, warm breath brushing your ear, “I think it’s time we try to push our record to double digits.”

As a shudder ran down your spine like a livewire, your heart jumping to your throat with how your blissed-out mind scrambled to try to imagine that, you let your body sink into his, counted your blessing, and let yourself feel whatever was about to come.

You let yourself be consumed by love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving feedback.

May November be kind to you💕

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 3

I'm living for the love for this story!! Thank you everyone!

I'm sorry to say that any requests to be added to the tag list will be ignored. It's all full up! But! You can follow me and put on notifications. That seems to work for most people!

In this we have a lot of growing pains and the girls try everything they can think of to keep Eddie home.

Part 1 Part 2

~

The next couple of days were spent ironing out of the kinks and setting expectations. Like when Steve scolded Janice for pulling on Joan’s braids and she yelled back that she wasn’t the boss of her.

Both girls went running to their dad.

Eddie looked down at his two little sun spots. “I don’t know why you’re coming to me about this, if Steve saw Jannie pulling Joanie’s hair, then he had every right to call it out. Just like Chrissy, just your uncles. He is in charge while I’m gone, so you better get used to his authority. Both of you girls go sit on your time out chairs for five minutes.”

Both girls gasped in shock, but after an intense showdown, they did as they were told.

“Thanks for that,” Steve said with a huff. “There’s always a little bit of give and take for first couple of weeks, and you laying down the law will really help that.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “It’s just been a tough year for them both. They’re old enough to remember Ethan, but young enough that it’s all the good and none of the bad. So they don’t understand why he left. I’ve been talking to a couple of therapists that think once they’re a little older, they want to start seeing both girls.”

“Nothing quite as traumatic as abandonment issues from an early age,” Steve said with a nod.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Steve sat down on the sofa with a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. Only my parents did just enough to make sure I wasn’t taken away from them. Making sure their trips would only last long enough that it would be considered child abandonment and endangerment. Sending me gifts for my birthday and Christmas, but not being there.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Then as I got into high school, sending me money for groceries and gas. As well as a hefty allowance to make sure that I wouldn’t talk. ‘Let’ me throw lavish parties and then ground me when they found out. Only they would pack up and leave, knowing I’d ignore the grounding because they were gone. Just a bunch of stupid shit like that.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “In the Hall of Fame of shitty parents, that’s really up there, man.”

Steve let out a huff of bitter laughter. “I got the last laugh though. The second I turned eighteen and finished school, I told them I was running away with my best friend and joining the circus. Then I told them I was bisexual and never looked back.”

“So how was the circus?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Not as fun as you’d expect,” Steve conceded. “Robin and I didn’t have anything like skills to be a performer, and wasn’t experienced in running the booths and rides, so we were part of the put up and take down crew.”

“So how did the nanny thing come about?” Eddie asked, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I used to babysit these kids when I was younger,” Steve said, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, “and when the one’s dad died and left a hefty life insurance to his mom. She suddenly was overwhelmed and hired me to nanny for her.”

Eddie thought back to the resumé the agency had sent over. “Mrs. Henderson, right?”

“That’s the one,” Steve leaned back on the sofa. “Dustin was a good kid. Too smart and arrogant for his own good.”

“Then of course, Mrs. Henderson recommended me to her friends,” Steve said. “One of them said they would only hire me through an agency. My ex-girlfriend happened to work at a nanny agency while she was going to school and offered to put in a good word for me.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “That was nice of an ex. I don’t know if I have any exes that would do the same for me.”

Steve just shrugged. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms either, but I used to babysit her younger siblings and knew how good I was. Nancy Wheeler is nothing but logical. She knew I would be good at it.”

“I spoke to a Nancy earlier,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “She really went to bat for you.”

“That’s Nance for ya,” Steve huffed. “Tenacious to a fault. This is her last semester at college and then she’s going to go to Emerson to get her journalism degree. She wanted to get her generals out of the way so she wasn’t paying out the ass for them.”

Eddie smiled. “Looks like I really lucked out then.”

“I guess you did,” Steve said softly. “I did too. Having you here these last couple of days have really helped out. They are still going to have the worst meltdowns during that first week you’re gone, but knowing you’ve already set the boundary they’ll only butt against it instead crossing it.”

Eddie smirked. “They’ve chased off nannies before. It’s why I have a very specific list of do’s and don’t’s with anyone I hire.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Steve chuckled. “Normally, I’d put them to bed, but because it’s your last night with them, I’d suggest you do it.”

“Of course,” Eddie said softly. “Thank you for taking good care of them, Steve. I’m really grateful to be leaving them in such capable hands. I don’t want to go on this tour, not really. But I need a break. I love my girls, but with Ethan leaving it feels like he took away my right to chose how to live my life.”

Steve got up and moved to the desk and sat down on it half way. “But at least you have the money and the wherewithal to make sure they are taken care of. Every parent needs a break once in awhile. You’ll go out there make your fans happy and then when you come back, you’ll appreciate them all the more for leaving.”

Eddie looked up at him, then his eyes fluttered shut. He pursed his lips together and leaned his head back. He opened his eyes to look at him again. “You don’t think I’m being a bad parent?”

“It does you no good to burn yourself out,” Steve soothed. “It would do them more harm if you burned out and couldn’t take care of them anymore.”

“I love them so much,” Eddie said, his lower lip quivering. “But not having any help except Chrissy occasionally made it hard.” Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Steve pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. Eddie let out a watery chuckle. “You didn’t have anyone close that could help you?”

Eddie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “My former bandmates kinda scattered all over the globe. Gareth in Wales where his family is from, Jeff in New York, and Brian in LA. My uncle, Wayne broke his leg just after Ethan left and he’s just barely moving around without a cane. I couldn’t make him watch two rambunctious four year olds.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. “A lot of the nannies we had kept trying to be their mother. One was even caught trying to teach Joanie to call her Mama.”

“That’s rough,” Steve murmured. “But I’m here to help you. I’m not going to try and replace you as their dad. Or even Ethan, really. I’m just an extra person you can rely on.”

“You don’t mind setting up the household staff do you?” Eddie asked, his voice still rough from the crying. He blew his nose and then threw the tissue away in a nearby garbage. “It’s just that I want people that will work well with you and not try to fight you on every little thing.”

Steve shook his head. “No I get it. Plus getting help for a place as big as this one, I’d need the help otherwise I’d wear myself out before you got home.”

Eddie chuckled. “Do you like the house? Some of the other nannies thought it was creepy.”

“Mr. Muns–” Steve began but Eddie cut him off.

“Call me Eddie,” he said softly. “Mr. Munson makes me feel old and I’m not ready for that yet.”

“All right, Eddie,” Steve murmured back, “I think it’s spooky in a fun way. It’s not creepy. It’s beautifully decorated. I’ve seen creepy. Like tiger and elephant heads mounted on the walls with fully stuffed birds and in one horrifying case a Tasmanian wolf.”

“Aren’t those extinct?” Eddie asked with a grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, moving to sit on on the desk all the way, to put some distance between them. Before he did something stupid like kiss his boss. “I made sure to report his taxidermy to the Feds on the way out.”

“Brutal.”

“Dude was creep and his wife wasn’t much better,” Steve said with a shrug. “I felt sorry for their kids. They didn’t deserve having parents like those.”

“What made you leave?” Eddie asked, honestly curious on how Steve could have gone through so many clients considering he didn’t seem very old.

Steve kicked his feet a little, careful not to kick Eddie. “They aged out of needing one. They were already pre-teens when I got hired. They basically only needed someone to pick them up from school and make them dinner before their parents came home.”

“How long were you with them?” Eddie asked, more to keep Steve there then any real curiosity he had. Yeah, he had been curious about what made him leave, but this was blatant flirting at this point.

Steve laughed. “What’s this, more interview?” he teased. “No, in all seriousness, it was about a year. Most of my clients only need me temporarily anyway. I’m pretty sure that for at least three of them, their friends or family got to them about me being a guy, because they hired a female nanny soon after.”

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie huffed. “I’m sorry that they kept doing that to you. If anyone says anything to you, send them my direction. I’ll set them straight.”

“Thanks,” Steve murmured. He checked his watch. “It’s about time for me to make dinner.”

Eddie nodded and watched him leave. Once Steve had closed the door to his office behind him, Eddie put his head in his hands. It was so hard to keep his hands to himself when Steve was that close.

He just hoped that the three months he was going to be gone would be enough to put out the fire in his gut for his new nanny for fuck’s sake. He needed to get laid, Jesus fucking Christ!

The rest of the night passed with relative ease. Steve made meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with corn on the side.

Night time went well, too. Both girls drifting off to sleep quickly.

Morning, though? That was what was fraught with difficulties and tantrums.

Joan refused to get dressed, flopping on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. Janice dumped her cereal on the floor, kicking and screaming like a toddler. Joan threw herself at the door while Janice tried to hide Eddie’s shoes.

Eddie stared Janice right in the eye as he pulled out another pair of shoes out of his carry-on. And then another out of his suitcase. He put the shoes back in the suitcase, but pulled on the shoes from his carry-on. All while Janice stood there with her jaw on the floor.

Steve pulled Joan away from the door so Eddie could open it and both girls started crying. Eddie hugged and kissed each girl goodbye.

Steve picked up both girls and held them up to the window so they could wave goodbye as Eddie drove off.

He set them down and they both flopped on the floor like ragdolls. He let them lay there for awhile, even taking advantage of Joan not moving to get her dressed. He put his hands on his hips it was going to be a long week. A very long week.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

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