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sheisjoeschateau · 1 year

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“You’re there. You were always there.”

A MULTI-PART FANFICTION SERIES, INSPIRED BY STRANGER THINGS, WRITTEN BY MISHA ST. JAMES.

Steve Harrington x fem!character. Childhood friends to lovers.

Slow burn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Spin-off of pre-existing character.

A note from the writer:

—

Hello there darlings. What started off as a rough one-shot concept inspired by my rewatching Stranger Things season one for the billionth time evolved into my new favorite fan fiction series that I have written and created. This truly has become my baby. I said it in my original post when leaving a sneak preview of this work of mine…but I’ll say it again. This piece really has become my baby.

I overthink everything. I like to dive deep beneath the surface of things and overthink things into magnificent new realities. A seemingly random (almost forgettable) character in this show ended up making my mind spiral. As a writer, I believe that all characters in books and cinema have purpose. So naturally, my mind wanted to make something of a character that only appears at random yet crucial parts of the show’s story.

Nicole only appeared in season one and she was assumed to be a friend of Steve’s. To us, she was no one. Yet the Duffers introduced us to her as if she was an already established character in the series. Steve seemed almost too comfortable with her, like there was history between them. But we never explored that past the first season. That really started to bug me during this last binge-watch I had. So being the over dramatic writer that I am, I decided to make something of it myself. And damn, did it just…flow. I had no plans of making this such a big series but yeah, here we fucking are.

I gave her my last name because, well, *hair flip* I’m a narcissistic bitch like that when it comes to writing. ;) So in this series of mine, she is written Nicole St. James. I took some inspiration from The Breakfast Club because, ya know, Claire Standish? Molly Ringwald was an iconic redhead in the 80s film world, and that role in particular really seemed to fit how I wrote Nicole while fitting how she was presented in the show. I also did not want to give her a predictable personality either (because, again, as a writer I’m complex like that). So I did not take the typical “mean girl” route with her character because that honestly would just hit a wall. I wanted there to be a reason for her her in this show. I think the actress who played her did a good job with it, given there wasn’t much for her to work with.

I actually researched the actress a bit (Glenellen Anderson) and she’s actually very talented. She said something in one of her interviews about her role being small in ST but serving a crucial part in the first season of the series, given her being the reason that Steve finds out about Jonathan taking the pictures in his yard that night. Idk tbh I lowkey feel like a stalker who’s obsessing over an actor before they make it big so that one day I can be like YEAH I KNEW SHE WAS COOL WHEN SHE WAS STILL UNDERRATED. Lol ok moving on —

So I guess that’s it then. Time for me to shut up and just let the story I’ve created speak for itself. Thank you to some of my favorite writers on here and fellow Steve Harrington fanatics for inspiring me to release my own work into this universe. I’ve been very hesitant but I am glad to finally be doing it. I want to hear your thoughts and honest opinion while also asking kindly that you keep my emo heart in consideration when doing so 👉🏻👈🏻 If I forgot to tag you, I sincerely apologize. Please remind me in comments so that I can remember next time!

*disclaimer: this is based on pre-existing characters. in the show, nicole is portrayed by a redheaded white female actress so I based my writing around that. I do not discriminate against ANY race or preferred gender roles who choose to read and engage with my stories.

Enjoy and please leave feedback :)

x, MISHA

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY PLATFORMS WITHOUT PROPERLY CREDITING ME AS THE WRITER. I DO NOT GRANT PERMISSION FOR YOU TO CLAIM MY WRITING AND WORK AS YOUR OWN. YES, THIS IS A FAN FICTION BASED ON A PRE-EXISTING SHOW. HOWEVER THERE IS BASIC COURTESY TO BE EXPECTED IN THE WRITING COMMUNITY SO PLEASE RESPECT THAT. 🖤

Warnings: This is very much an 18+ written fan fiction series. Please read at your own risk. There is language, eventual mentions of blood and violence, drinking, sex, etc. There is also going to be mention of homophobia because the 80s were full of misogynistic men and women who were so unforgivingly dense (like fucking Tommy H. and Carol Perkins), so I want to address that as we eventually introduce Robin and Will into the series so that we can have our outstanding LGBTQ darlings welcomed and given the representation that they deserve.

—————

VOLUME I

“You’re there. You were always there.”

——————

Steve Harrington is six years old when he meets you: the girl who carries the other half of him with her.

He first spotted her playing outside alone, in the yard right across from his. She has a big treehouse, and no one but herself to share it with. And even though you seem content — he doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad. Watching you alone, in your own great big world, and no one begging to share it with you.

So after a week, he walks across the street to do something about it. He had watched you climb the little red ladder up to the top, making round trips with your backpack and various items.

The door to your treehouse is made of wood, painted pastel yellow with tiny butterfly stickers adorning it in random places. He hears you, talking to yourself the way you would talk if you had company. Maybe it’s to an imaginary friend. Or maybe, you just like to talk to yourself. Regardless, he knocks, and your gibberish ceases. Eventually, he hears your feet padding closer and closer. The door creaked open, revealing your curious grey eyes. Your red hair framed your small, heart shaped face, and the cream knit sweater that you wore looked almost as warm as you were.

“Hi,” Steve said. “I’m Steve. I live in that house over there.”

He pointed to the big house that loomed just across the street from you, and you briefly peeked out to look at it before looking back at him. Your full pink lips pressed into a shy smile.

“I’m Nicole,” you told him. “I’m six.”

“Me, too,” Steve tells you, proudly and with a dashing smile. But then he furrows his brow. “Why are you having a tea party by yourself?”

You look back into your little safe haven, following his gaze that stares at the eclectic assortment of tea cups and teapots set for multiple people when it was just you.

“Oh, well I just like to be ready,” you tell him. “In case I make any friends.”

Suddenly, you beam at him. Your usually shy demeanor dissolves as the gleam in your eye shines through.

“Do you wanna be my friend?” you ask Steve, who raises his eyebrows in response.

“Umm, yeah,” he finally responds, nodding his head. He stuffs one hand into the pockets of his little Levi jeans, fastened with a belt and all, already a charmer with his polo sweater. His other hand goes to push back some of his floppy chestnut hair. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

You smile brightly. “Okay.”

And so you are, just like that. Friends. As you pour Steve a cup of chocolate milk, which you both confidently call hot tea without remark, you quietly hum to yourself.

Steve watches you, thinking you’re really pretty. Whenever you go to pass him a teacup, he takes it and quickly looks around, pretending he wasn’t just staring at you. He was in awe, really. Fairy lights were strewn about, with potted flowers in the windowsills. There was a table with lots of crayons, markers and gel pens, unfinished drawings scattered underneath them. A few completed drawings were hung up on the walls.

“Doesn’t it get scary up here all by yourself?” he asks you, genuinely curious.

As you set the little teapot back down, you shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. “Mm-mm,” you tell him. “I’m safe up here.”

You raise your teacup to your little pout to sip. You seemed so content all by yourself, as if the word ‘lonely’ was completely foreign to you.

Steve is six years old when he sees the reflection of his better self in you.

_______

Steve is 7 years old when he calls you his best friend.

You’re both playing at recess, roped into a game of duck-duck-goose. A little girl named Carol is sitting next to you, and Steve watches her roll her eyes and huff throughout most of the game. You’ve been smiling and laughing this whole time, except when she gets mad that you don’t pick her when you’re circling the group of kids and selecting someone to chase you.

“Nicoooole,” she whines.

You look at her as if you’re terribly afraid of what you could have done wrong. Carol crosses her arms, pouting.

“You’re supposed to pick me,” she complains.

“Oh,” you said, eyes wide. “I-I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

You shuffled your feet, your loafers twisting in the grass. Your ponytail blew in the breeze, along with the little flyaway baby hairs, and you looked a little embarrassed – almost ashamed – as the kid you had picked goes to sit in the assigned mush pot, since she couldn’t catch you.

“Well I do,” Carol said, matter of fact.

Steve grimaces. He hated seeing you so uncomfortable, and he really hated the way this girl was talking to you.

“Those aren’t the rules,” Steve argued, defending you.

You looked at Steve, a little relief becoming evident in your timid eyes.

“It’s not not in the rules,” Carol snarks back. Alright, now Steve is just plain bothered. This girl is annoying. And shamelessly entitled.

Carol looks back at you, glaring. “Pick me next time.”

You slowly sit back down next to her, sinking into the grass with a frown. You look so timid, sad even. Steve wanted to drag you across the circle to sit next to him, but he didn’t because you were suddenly standing again, stuttering a little “Oh,” realizing it was still your turn.

You cautiously made your way around the kids, placing your hand on top of everyone’s heads while saying “duck.” You started to sweetly grin as you approached Steve, who grinned back. You plopped your hand on top of his head, definitely messing up his hair, but he didn’t mind. It was you, and that was okay. Anyone else, no.

You fearfully dubbed Carol duck as you passed her, and her jaw clenched. She kept her arms tightly folded, watching you like a hawk. Steve narrowed his eyes at the snarky girl, already hating her. You patted his head again, “duck,” and Steve watched you curiously. Surely, you weren’t gonna pick her. Then again, he was afraid of what would happen if you didn’t.

But sure enough, you did pick Carol.

Goose.

Carol smirked so fast before bolting upright to chase you around the playground.

Steve was wildly chanting your name, along with the others.

“Go, Nicole!” he shouted, rooting you on. The others echoed his cheers. Your red hair flipped in the wind, ponytail bouncing behind you as you dashed back towards him in your school dress and loafers.

Carol looked so convinced that she was gonna take you down, but you were faster. She chased you with a devilish smile, which began to quickly dissolve once she saw you getting closer to homebase.

Suddenly, you plopped down beside Steve, out of breath. He and the others hurrayed, and you smiled as you panted.

But Carol scoffed, finally making it over to you all in the circle. She buckled over her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“Ha-ha, Carol,” some boy sneered jokingly.

“Yeah Carol, mush pot time,” Steve chimed in, a little too happily.

She scoffed again, louder this time. “No way, that’s not fair.”

Steve twitched incredulously. “W’you mean it’s not fair? She beat you.”

Carol’s jaw clenched again, and she stared daggers in your direction as she put her hands on her hips with a sour attitude. Steve cringed at the sight of just how nasty she looked, hating that it was being directed towards you. You shrunk back in your seated position on the grass, looking afraid. As Carol stalked over to sit in the middle of everyone, she kept staring at you with a look that could kill. You looked to the ground, and Steve kept his place next to you with a newfound wave of protection washing over him.

“Fine, well,” Carol sneered. “I’m not your friend anymore.”

Carol’s words were nothing but laughable. To any mature adult — hell, any human not in kindergarten — her remark would have meant nothing. But to you? A seven year old with a heart of gold, and the desire to just make everyone feel included? Her words were detrimental. They meant you were a horrible person. You were to blame.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t —“ you stumble, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to, Carol, I-I…”

Carol whipped her head around to not face you. Your eyes were really sad now, and Steve’s heart sank. You brought your knees to your chest, and your grey eyes went a little glassy.

“I can switch w-with you,” you kept trying. “I’ll sit—”

“Shut up,” she barked. “I said you’re not my friend.”

“Yeah, well she’s my best friend.”

Steve’s words landed hard.

Carol whipped her head around again, now facing him. Everyone in the circle stared at the perfect-haired boy, including you. Sweet, innocent you. Your grey eyes peered over at him nervously. But there was a glint of hope in them, too, and if you weren’t so shaken up and close to crying you would have smiled.

Steve shot one last disgusted look in Carol’s direction, then rose to his feet. He reached out a hand, taking one of yours from your knees.

“C’mon,” he told you. “Let’s go play somewhere else.”

You blinked, but didn’t hesitate to follow his lead. You looked at him, giving him a small smile before looking downwards again. Steve wrapped his fingers around your hand so tightly, and your little heart fluttered. He was so warm, and you felt so safe.

Carol huffed, appalled. “Since when are you best friends with ugly redheads, Harrington?!”

Your heart sank even lower as you saw Steve’s eyes go fierce, his jaw clenched. He whipped around to look at Carol.

“The only ugly redhead here is you,” he shot back at her, and her jaw dropped. All the kids reacted, some laughing and some making amused remarks. But Steve didn’t pay them any mind as he stalked off with you, hand in hand.

You kept up with him as best you could with your little legs, feeling his grip on your hand tighten. He looked so mad, and you gulped.

“Steve?” you asked, voice quiet.

“Don’t listen to them,” he mumbled, shaking his head. He was staring straight ahead, mind racing. You could tell he was really upset, and it made you feel bad. “Or her. She’s a bitch.”

You gasped, eyes wide. “Steve!”

“What? She is.”

You were shocked to hear him curse. A few moments passed as you kept walking beside him, completely taken aback. But then, you felt a grin tucking your lips upwards. You stifled a giggle, and Steve turned to look at you in surprise. You glanced up at him shyly, really giggling now. His hard expression turned soft, a smile of his own creeping on his lips. Eventually, he laughed too.

The two of you made it over to the swingset, and Steve let go of your hand. You already missed his touch, the warmth of it. He walked to stand in front of the tire swing, nodding his head at you to join. You walked in front of the tire, reaching up to grip the chains from which it hung. Steve crossed over to stand behind you.

“Here,” he said, placing his hands on your small hips. You felt yourself flush, heart fluttering again. A whole flock of butterflies swarmed your stomach. Steve was happy you couldn’t see his face, because he felt himself flush too. He wasn’t sure why a surge of electricity shot through him as he lifted you up into the tire swing, but as you swung your legs into its open middle he could smell your lavender shampoo. It made him melt, and his hands lingered just a little longer than needed on the hips of your jeans. You were safely seated now – had been for a moment. Maybe two or three moments.

Steve cleared his throat, rounding the wheel to climb onto it and sit across from you. He tossed his feet into the hole, hands wrapped around the chains. You looked at him with that signature warm, slightly shy smile of yours, and he returned it. His smile was definitely more confident, though. Charming, even for a first grader.

Your feet dangled in the air, so Steve used his to touch the ground and help you both begin to swing. For a little while, you both just listened to the breeze. The leaves were beginning to turn brown, a sign that autumn was approaching. Kids laughed in the distance, buzzing with energy. You figured you both only had a little time left, before you would have to return to classes. But spending the last bit of playtime alone together was more fun than with the bratty kids you’d been spending time with earlier.

“Am I ugly?”

Steve had been watching a butterfly swarming nearby when you spoke. He almost hadn’t heard you, with the way you spoke so quietly. You sounded so small, fragile. You were staring at the ground, your loafers criss-crossed as the two of you swayed on the swing, looking so vulnerable. It made his heart split in two, the fire inside him burning again.

“No,” he said, a little too harshly. Your eyes shot up at him, a little surprised at his tone. But he continued with no filter, cause what 7-year-old boy has one of those? “Carol’s a liar. You’re not ugly. At all. You’re beautiful. Way more than her.”

Your eyes shone, and Steve watched your cheeks go rosy pink. A small but real smile found its way onto your little lips, and you looked at him so sweetly before you glanced back down at the ground. You kicked at the air, thinking to yourself. While you weren’t looking, Steve memorized each eyelash concealing your grey eyes and the curve of your eyebrows. He noticed that you only had a small sprinkle of freckles on your nose, but nowhere else on your porcelain skin. He felt his heart skip a beat, losing himself in you. God, you were perfect. How could anyone ever call you ugly?

“Wanna come over for dinner?” Steve asked.

You looked up at him, snapped out of your own thoughts. “Yeah. I’ll have to ask my mom and dad if that’s okay.”

“I think my mom is ordering pizza,” Steve continued, mouth watering. “Do you like pizza?”

“Yeah, but I like mushroom pizza.”

Steve scrunched his nose. “Eww, why?”

You giggled, shrugging. “They’re really good!”

“Bleck.”

“You should try them,” you insisted.

Steve would normally say something along the lines of hell no, but to you? That was impossible. He pursed his lips, nose still scrunched and shivering at the thought of eating fungus on pizza. But he relented, sighing.

“Alright, I guess,” he said, kicking to swing you both again. “But if I don’t like it, you have to help me with the dishes.”

You smirked. “Deal.”

You both swayed, listening to the trees rustle. Steve watched the teacher approaching everyone from her perch, knowing she was about to whistle for everyone to make their way back for school.

“Hey Steve?”

He turned back to look at you. ‘Hmm?”

You paused, contemplating your words. But then you gave him the kindest smile in the world, and it rendered Steve speechless as you spoke with more certainty than you had all day.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

__________

As the next few years went by, you and Steve continued to become a permanent part of them for each other.

Your parents had easily become friends with his parents, making it a regular thing to have each other over for holiday parties and gatherings, or even just casual dinners. Both your parents and his were too wealthy for their own good, too caught up in their own worlds to really pay either of you any mind. Sure, they knew that the two of you were friends. Close even. But they didn’t really know much beyond that. Steve’s parents were just glad to know that their kid had something to do other than bother them every day after school and on weekends, and your parents were so used to you playing by yourself that they didn’t really notice much difference. Your families both lived in a swanky neighborhood, so becoming acquainted with one another hadn’t been something that required much consideration on their part. They ran in the same circles. Timeshare mutuals, and plastic veneer smiles who shared travel itineraries for whatever bougie seminar was happening that month, or the next.

Until you came along, Steve had been a lonely kid destined for a life of abandonment. Once Chet Harrington had been given a son by Paula, he stopped the bloodline there. “Good,” he’d remarked. “Someone to carry on the family name.” As far as he was concerned, that’s all his kid’s purpose served. Take over the family business, get a trophy wife and repeat the cycle. Siblings? Why bother? One kid was enough to handle. They cost money and time, and the Harringtons didn’t just hand those out like charity. If it weren’t so heavily frowned upon, or a threat to their reputation, they wouldn’t have even bothered with hiring a babysitter. It was mainly Paula Harrington who insisted on it. After all, she did love her son. She just wasn’t a nurturing mother, giving her care to her pearls and pristine walk-in closet maintenance far more than her little boy, so her love was never felt by her son. As far as Chet was concerned, once Steve turned 10 years old, a babysitter was no longer a needed expense. Because that’s all it was to him: an expense. So come the double digits, and Steve would just be a kid left to fend for himself, all alone in his great big house with no parents.

But so were you. You, Nicole St. James, were just as doomed as he was. Your parents were more aloof than anything. They weren’t quite as cold as the Harrington’s. But they weren’t all that warm either. Ken had impregnated his wife, Alison, on a spontaneous trip overseas. You’d been the result of a heavy night of gin, blue curacao and dirty talk. Filthy sex and silky sheets in a Five Seasons were the blissful combination the night that you were conceived. It had been a surprise for both of them, when that little strip read positive with a pink stripe. They’d made a fuss of it, planning a frivolous baby shower with tons of guests and a plethora of gifts for their baby girl on the way. They had found out the gender as soon as they could, not wanting any more surprises. Your arrival had been a very anticipated event, so when you had been actually brought into the world the excitement fizzled away. It seemed more exciting to celebrate having you, rather than actually having you. Granted, your parents loved you. You were spoiled with toys, new clothes every week, and social outings. Not that you ever asked for any of those things. The only thing you ever sought out from them were hugs, which they half-heartedly returned with barely a fraction of the love that radiated through your tiny arms.

You had your mother’s hair, though hers was more auburn while yours was pure fire. And you had your father’s grey eyes. But what you had that they didn’t, was your spirit. They were boisterous, loud and shallow. You were quiet, shy and soft. You radiated only genuine kindness, oftentimes just observing your surroundings and being in your own little world. Your parents were party animals, constantly busying themselves with events and planning vacations. It’s why they busied you with the same types of things by default, assuming you to be just like them. Constantly wanting company, people to distract you and noise to drown out the silence. But you weren’t like them. You loved the silence, the chirping of the birds and the whoosh of the breeze. You loved books instead of toys, and gardening tools instead of dolls. Not that they paid attention to that, though. Instead, they just bought you whatever the flashiest new item was. Or, if you just so happened to take a liking to something, the St. James’ bought it to appease you quickly and not bat an eye. Screw sentimentality, if it made you happy then by all means you could have it.

The only reason they had a treehouse built for you, was because Ken St. James had discovered his daughter’s makeshift fort outside. It consisted of amateruly constructed cardboard boxes, with random blankets propped up on sticks. He and Alison had just gotten home from a business trip, and your aunt had shrugged her shoulders when they asked how her stay had been. She told them you had spent the whole time outside, playing in your disastrously built utopia. Your parents didn’t give much thought to it, hiring a few carpenters to come and build you a proper treehouse for your sixth birthday. You had beamed, telling them thank you a thousand and one times. They’d thought it was cute, at first. Until one night, as they got ready for a gala, you had gone to hug your mother as she coated her lips with a red rouge. She’d yelped, surprised at your sudden touch.

“I love you, mommy,” you whispered to her.

“Nicole, darling, what are you–” she stammered, one hand holding her lipstick and the other swatting at you.

“For my treehouse,” you continued. “I love it.”

“Oh, psh, honey,” she scoffed wryly, slowly peeling your little arms off of her shoulders. “Enough now, you’ve thanked us too many times to count. It’s a little exhausting.”

She had chuckled humorlessly, resuming her pampering. You had watched her reflection, and if she’d cared to look at yours instead of her own she would have seen the look of longing and saddened wonder that filled your eyes. She would have seen the way your full lips parted, no more words being spoken. And she would have seen you quietly pad your way back out her bedroom door, where you made your way back to your room.

Instead of finding love through your parents, you found it in your treehouse. You found it in the swaying of the trees, and the butterflies that swarmed your front yard. You found it in yellow crayons, and glitter gel pens, and the weeds you insisted were flowers as you pulled them and placed them into little pots. You found love in the changing of seasons, and the twinkle lights that glowed at night in your safe haven. You found love within yourself, and you found love in Steve Harrington.

The bike rides down the neighborhood streets, and down to the convenient store to buy snacks with your little weekly allowances. The swapping of ice cream cones on hot summer days — when Steve noticed the way you eyed his chocolate waffle cone, as he secretly wanted your strawberry sugar cone instead. The afternoons into nights spent in your treehouse together, playing make believe and coloring. The fairy wands and pirate swords, and the battle of neverland that you fought side by side in your tulle dress while Steve wore a green polo and birthday hat with a red feather crudely taped to the side of it. The field trips and summer camps with your classmates, always sitting beside each other on the bus and whenever you all had to eat in between activities. Lord knows, if you two were sat apart, one of you would complain until it was made right. The innocent secrets you told each other, and the way you both laughed at the silliest of things until your sides split. The countless hours that you spent at his house, no parents or nanny in sight, playing hide and seek. One time, it took him so long to find you that he panicked. He was pretty sure you had actually disappeared for good, and his breathing quickened. It took him calling out your name several times, until eventually it sounded like he was blubbering. You had made your way out of his closet, where you’d proudly buried yourself underneath all of his clothes. Steve saw you crawling out with a worried look on your little face, saying his name in such an assuring tone. He had run over to you and hugged you tight, sniffling. But when he pulled back, he’d already roughly rubbed his eyes so that no tears spilled. The two of you resumed playing like nothing had happened.

Most days were spent in your treehouse, except when a thunderstorm was coming. That’s when the two of you would throw a bunch of blankets and pillows together in his or your room, making a fort. A shelter, if you will. The thunder rolled as the lightning streaked across the sky. One night, you had both curled up with a big bowl of popcorn, boxes of cereal, pop tarts, sodas and candy, no trace of actual substance in sight. You had flashlights and cards, playing Go Fish and War. At some point, Steve had asked if you believed in ghosts. You shuddered, nodding your head yes. His eyes had gone wide, clutching the blanket tighter around his shoulders. You pulled the pillow in your arms closer to your chest, your grey eyes just as wide as his.

“Do you think…” Steve had started, his voice soft. He gulped, a thought crossing his mind. “D’you think we’ll ever have to fight monsters? You know, like aliens or something?”

You gulped, too. “I dunno,” you started, voice soft like his. “I think that monsters in books and movies are really scary. I don’t wanna fight them in real life.”

Steve nodded, thinking. “Well, if we ever do… I’ll protect you. Promise.”

You hugged your pillow tighter, your worried eyes shining and a shy smile meeting your lips. “You will?”

“Yeah,” Steve assured you, with absolute certainty. Because he meant it with all of his heart. No monster would ever hurt you. No ghost would haunt you. And nothing would ever take you away. “I always will.”

CRACK. That’s when lightning struck the electricity box, and all the power in Steve’s house went out. You screamed, and Steve gasped. He grabbed one of the flashlights, shuffling his way over to you. He wrapped the blanket around both of you, as the two of you huddled closer together underneath the pillow fort you both built together.

“S’okay, I’m right here,” he soothed you, feeling you shiver against him. Your little arms were wound around his torso, your grip fierce. He clung to him with so much trust, melting into him, even though you were scared. He melted right back into you, holding you close. “I got you.”

The winds howled outside, thunder still rolling and lightning flashing around you both in the quiet, still room outside of the walls of blankets enveloping you both.

“Do you think there’s a monster out there?” you asked him, your frightened voice the cutest whisper in the world.

“Nah,” Steve said, but even he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t be scared, though. He had to make you feel safe. “But if there is, it won’t get you. I won’t let it.” He rested his chin on top of your head. “Not ever.”

Even at nine years old, Steve knew he would never break a promise that he made you. You did, too.

And right now, as you turned ten years old, you were surrounded by a bunch of faces. Most of them, you didn’t really know. Some were kids from school, and others were their parents. Lots of random adults, buzzed with champagne and spirits. But as you sat in a chair behind your pink birthday cake, all aglow with ten gold candles, there was one face you recognized and loved. Steve’s.

He grinned at you, his smile growing more charming each day. His hair was still iconic, always styled just right. He wore a preppy polo with a collar, and khaki slacks with nice shoes. His brown doe eyes shone in the candlelight – and even though the others spoke loudly over each other, he spoke so that only you could hear him.

“Make a wish, Nic,” he said, seated right next to you.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL!” your mom squealed, the inebriation evident in her voice.

“Wait, honey, wait,” your father chuckled, gripping his whisky. “We gotta sing first.”

“Damn,” Mr. Harrington remarked, also laughing. “These women just don’t have any patience, do they?”

The two men snickered, and Mrs. Harrington playfully scoffed and swatted at them before wrapping an arm around your mother. She, too, was a bit tipsy.

“Alright,” she purred, a smirk on her lips as she raised her glass. “All together now.”

And so the song began. Happy Birthday rang all throughout the house, echoing off the dining room walls of your childhood home. Kids sang with enthusiasm, while adults sang in a million different pitches. Some voices were happy, others were bored, and a few were drunk. But the only voice you listened to was your best friend’s, who sat by your side with one arm resting on the table and the other perched on the back of your chair. You beamed at him, and he beamed at you.

Steve swore in that very moment, that you were perfect. The way your little baby hairs still escaped your hair that was pulled into a little half-up do. You were wearing the simplest, most feminine pastel yellow dress. The sleeves had tiny ruffles on it, your shoulders peeking out and arms bare. Your face was clean of any makeup, aside from the white face painted butterfly wings around your grey eyes. It was so whimsical, making you look even more like a princess than you already were. Steve watched you look around the room, enchanted by your enchantment. And as your gaze circled back to meet his own, he smiled bigger. Your smile grew, too, and the crowd of people in the room ceased to exist. You’d both forgotten them, until they started to cheer wildly as your birthday song ended.

“Nicky!” your mother squealed.

God, you hated when she called you that. You broke your gaze from Steve, looking at her.

“Come on, baby, make a wish!”

You looked back down at your candles, scrunching your eyes shut and thinking. Steve’s eyes never left you, entranced with the way you looked in the orange glow of the birthday candles. Selfishly, he made a wish too. It wasn't his birthday, but it didn’t have to be. Steve wished for all your wishes and dreams to come true. He wished for this to be the best year yet, for you and for him. He wished for you to never move away, to always be his best friend across the road. He wished for you to never outgrow him, or want to be better friends with somebody else. He wished it would always be like this, that no matter what changes came he would always have you. He wished that he knew what you were wishing for, and he wished for you to be wishing for him.

Little did he know, he was your only wish. It was already true, and as you blew out the candles, you wished for it to always be true.

________________

Steve was twelve when you saw him cry for the first time.

His parents had gotten his report card, appalled at the C and D despite all other A’s. Paula Harrington was disappointed and embarrassed, but Chet Harrington? Well, he was furious.

“I didn’t raise someone stupid,” he spat at Steve, who leaned against the kitchen counter with his head down, shoulders slumped and arms crossed. They had been arguing over this for at least thirty minutes.

Steve swallowed. “I’m not stupid, dad,” he murmered, voice defeated.

“Sorry, what was that?” his father egged him on, voice bitter. There was zero trace of kindness or understanding, and Steve’s mother could only watch them from the dining table with a pathetic pout.

Chet stepped closer to his son, sneering. “Speak up, son. Couldn’t hear you.”

“...said I’m not stupid,” Steve tried again, hating the way his voice still shook despite talking a little louder.

“Stop being a little bitch and look at me,” his dad spat, the air escaping his lips and onto Steve’s face.

“Chet, please –” his mother tried, pathetically.

Steve felt the hurt inside of him bubbling into anger, unable to control himself.

“I said I’m not stupid!” He shouted back, having taken enough of his father’s bullying for the past thirty minutes. The past month. Several months. Years.

But he was only rewarded with a slap to the face, so sharp it felt like a knife. If it weren’t for the ringing in his ears, he would have heard his mother gasp. The impact had made him turn a full 180 degrees, and he was stunned into silence as tears sprang to his eyes from the harsh blow. Slowly, he turned back towards them. He first made eye contact with his mother, whose hands were clasped over her mouth. Eventually, he made eye contact with his father, who seethed and showed no sign of remorse.

“Your report card says otherwise,” he slithered. He slowly backed up towards the kitchen table, taking his seat again. He took a sip of his brandy, clicking his tongue at the taste. “Raise your voice at me again, and you’ll see stars next time.”

Steve could hear his own breathing, could feel the anguish that spread throughout his mind, body and soul. His heart ached, and he longed for comfort. But the two people who sat in front of him wouldn’t offer him that. Nobody would.

Except you.

So he bolted his stairs, seeking privacy so that the unshed tears threatening to spill over wouldn’t show his weakness any further. He held them at bay, biting his lip so hard he was pretty sure it would bleed soon. He ran into his room, throwing open his drawers as he breathed hard. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his only thoughts consisting of getting a change of clothes and heading over to you. He threw a backpack over his shoulder, locking his bedroom door and sneaking out his window.

He knew the route all too well by now, having done it since he was six. He crawled down the side of the house, walking towards the house next to his and the one after that. Then, he made his way across the street, where he walked behind one house, then two, and then made it to yours. This way, his parents wouldn’t see him heading to your house out their window.

Once he was there, he climbed up the side of your home where your window was dimly lit by the glow of your bedside lamp. Good, he thought. You were home. His heavy heart swelled with relief, and he mounted the side of the house and up onto the roof the way he always did when sneaking into your room at night.

Your window was cracked open, always ready for him. The curtains were drawn, and he saw you sitting on your bed, reading a book. Your brows were closely knitted together, your eyes intensely focused on whatever you were reading. One leg was crossed over the other, glasses perched on your nose and hair tucked back into a messy topknot.

Steve swallowed back the large lump in his throat and tapped the windowpane, just enough for you to hear him. Your head snapped up, pulled out of your bookworm trance. Grey eyes met brown, and you went to smile until you saw the distress in his features. You set your book down and removed your glasses, padding over to him, quietly but quickly. A large t-shirt hung to your thighs, landing just above your knees and accentuating your slim legs. You pulled the window all the way open, looking at him with the most concerned expression.

“Steve?” you asked, voice gentle.

The dam broke. Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer, any plans of trying to do so completely demolished as a choked sob left his lips. His shoulders heaved forward, and you felt your heart break at the sight. This was new. This was very new. You’d never seen him like this.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him tightly. He gripped you back like a lifeline, crying into your shoulder. You stayed there for a moment, before pulling back to bring him inside. He clung to you, not wanting to let go, but when he realized that he was still in the window frame he allowed you to move away from him and followed you inside to stand behind you. You quickly closed the window, turning to face him again.

He was a good several inches taller than you, so you looked up at him. Your expression was so soft, so full of empathy it only made him break down more. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest. He buried his face into your shoulder again, weeping until the sleeve of your shirt was soaked through. He shook in your embrace, the sound of his cries the saddest sound you had ever heard. You stroked the nape of his neck, fingers playing with his hair. His arms around you were so tightly wound, you thought he might never let go. And you didn’t want him to, so neither of you made a move to do so. You just stood there, holding one another, letting Steve cry until he couldn’t any more.

After a while, you slowly pulled back to look up at him. Steve’s brown eyes were bloodshot, his stylish hair ruffled and messy – yet somehow, still perfect. Even when he was sad, he was still so pretty.

He rubbed at his snot sodden nose with his elbow, fruitlessly trying to wipe it away. He sniffed roughly, not used to being the one who needed comforting. But as you reached up to thumb away a few of his tears, he didn’t pull away. Anyone else, he wouldn’t have let seen him like this, let alone touch him. But you were the exception to every rule, and he wouldn’t dare pull away from you. Not when you were so understanding, not casting any judgment towards him. Any walls he had built around himself in front of others, he let come down in front of you. Because when he was with you, he didn’t have to be strong, or brave, or cool. He could just be Steve, a boy with big hair and an even bigger heart.

You smiled at him gently, waiting for him to speak. He sighed.

“My dad said I was stupid,” he started, voice shaky. “He said I – he said…”

Your small smile faded, your eyes boring into his. He looked shown, shuddering a breath. You took his hands in yours, guiding him to the bed. You both sat down, your hands still intertwined. You sat facing him, your legs crossed in Indian-style. He mirrored you, matching your position and staring down at your dainty fingers in his. You wore a few rings, minimal sterling silver bands. Steve always loved how they made your piano fingers look even longer, delicate. He twiddled in thumbs around yours, absentmindedly tracing shapes as he spoke.

“They saw my report card,” he continued, sniffling. “I got a C in math. And a D, i-in science.”

You furrowed your brows, still listening. You wanted to say so much already, but you will yourself to stay quiet and let him finish. He needed to let it out.

“It didn’t matter about the other grades. Dad, h-he just cared about the bad ones. Like no matter what, I’m j-just a failure.”

You shook your head, not having any of it. “Steve,” you started, voice firm but kind. “You’re not stupid. And you’re not a failure. You’re smart, and you study just as hard as anyone else does.”

He sniffled again, eyes still downcast. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “S’not enough.”

“You’re enough.”

That made him look up at you, his sad glassy eyes meeting your fierce ones. The love that poured from your grey irises shot straight into his brown ones, and he knew you were being as honest as they come.

“He hit me, Nic,” he murmured, tasting bile as he admitted it.

You felt a wave of emotions hit you all at once. Anger. Heartbreak. Anguish. Rage. Pain. And love. So, so much love for this beautiful boy, who you got to call your best friend. The thought of his dad hitting him – anyone hitting him – made you see red. He didn’t deserve this. Any of this. And as you noted a slightly red mark on his cheek, you felt your soul split open. Tears of your own sprang to your eyes, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

His face crumpled, and you pulled him in close as he started to cry again. You silently cried too, grateful that he couldn’t see you. He kept one hand in yours still, resting on your laps. The other wound around your waist, the hand you had placed on his cheek now draped around his neck. You lightly swayed, allowing the silence and Steve’s breathy cries to wash over you both.

Eventually, Steve’s tense shoulders sagged and his cries subdued. He relaxed into you, and you could tell that sleep was finding him.

“Hey,” you murmured into his neck. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Steve slowly pulled back, watching you pull the covers down. Normally, it would be weird. A boy, watching his female friend offer to sleep in the same bed without their parents knowing. But you’d both fallen asleep together so many times over the years. In your treehouse, on his bedroom floor, on the couch while watching a movie. Even in the same bed, when studying or doing homework. Now was no different, as far as you both were concerned.

So as you nestled yourself underneath the covers, gesturing for him to follow, Steve didn’t hesitate to crawl in next to you. He pulled the covers over the two of you as you turned out your light, only the moonlight illuminating your face in the dark room. You both laid on your sides, facing each other. You placed a hand on the mattress, in the small space between you both, palm up. He placed his hand on top of yours, wrapping his fingers around yours. He sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

“You can stay here anytime you want,” you whispered beside him, your eyelids drooping but still watching him.

Steve squeezed your hand tightly. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, his heart swelling with love for you. He peeled his eyes back open, taking in your beautiful face. If there was an angel watching over him, it had to be you. God couldn’t have possibly given him a better one, because you were it.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he whispered back, timid. “Unless you’re there.”

You sighed, nuzzling into your pillow with a little nod. “Okay, then you won’t.”

Both your voices were tired, but the words you shared with one another held so much truth and conviction. Because you meant what you had said. Steve never had to spend a single night alone in his great big house, whether or not his parents were there. You stayed there, or he’d stay with you. It became an unspoken routine, refuge.

No matter what pain life threw his way, or yours, you both knew that so long as you had each other, it would be okay.

____________

But one morning, several months later, Steve’s mom found you in his bed.

The two of you were sound asleep, her son starfished across the mattress and you curled up into a little ball. At first, Mrs. Harrington just froze. How long had this been happening? That’s the question that sprang her into action. Her motherly instincts decided to actually make an appearance, storming over to the bed to jostle you awake.

“Nicole St. James, what in blazes are you doing here?!”

Your eyes shot open, finding Mrs. Harrington’s frantic eyes. She had a firm grip on your arm, and you shrunk deeper into the mattress.

“Steven,” she said through gritted teeth. “Wake up.”

Steve stirred, not really waking up. Such a boy. A tornado can’t wake boys when they’re not even thirteen yet.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake. Groggy, but alert. You felt your cheeks flush crimson, knowing this looked bad. Sure, at twelve years old you’re not fully aware of just how bad this actually looked. But a boy and a girl, sharing a bed, behind their parents’ backs? That had trouble written all over it. As far as any adult was concerned, that screamed bad news. And nine times out of ten, it was often a result of youthful scandal.

But for you and Steve? It was simply comfort. Safety. Codependency.

That’s not how his mother saw it, though.

“Steven!”

He bolted awake, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. When he looked over to find you staring at him, your grey eyes terrified and lean arm in his mother’s manicured grip, he began to come to. The reality set in, and Steve felt his chest clench. You both had been caught.

His mother’s eyes held a fire that he had never seen before. Even in all her beauty – loosely curled blonde hair, wispy bangs and silky white blouse to match her high waist trousers – she looked intimidating. Steve realized at that moment, he had never truly felt intimidated by his mother until right now. She looked absolutely furious, appalled even. Her lips were pursed together into a tight, thin line, and by the looks of her clenched jaw he could tell she had gritted her teeth.

Steve swallowed, feeling the panic seep in. “Wait, mom –”

“Not a word,” she cut him off. “I didn’t raise you like this.”

You didn’t raise him at all, you thought to yourself. If it weren’t for the fear you held, you would have had to really fight to stay quiet. But as Mrs. Harrington kept going, you couldn’t have found your own voice if you tried.

“Bringing girls up to your room to sleep with them? What filthy movies have you been watching? Did you… Oh my god, did you find one of your father’s?!”

Steve’s eyes went wide with horror. “What?! No! Mom, please –”

“I don’t know what vile things you’ve had put in your head, Steven. By your friends, your father, porn or whatever the hell you kids are doing these days. But this. Ends. Now.”

Your terror-stricken eyes expression became all the more terrified, and as Steve’s mother wrenched you off the bed you let out the most heartbreaking little yelp. Steve felt his heart jump into his throat.

“MOM, PLEASE, DON’T –”

“And you,” she turned to face you, dragging you beside her out of his bedroom. “You’re a young lady. You should know better.”

You felt absolutely sick to your stomach. Hearing Steve’s mom accuse you of being capable of doing something so grimey – of being a slut – made you feel so small. And Steve’s panicked shouts weren’t helping.

“But I–I,” you stuttered, your voice so shaky and low it was almost inaudible. How could she think you and Steve would do such a thing together? It wasn’t like that. He was your best friend. Your safe haven. Your favorite person in existence.

Mrs. Harrington slammed Steve’s bedroom door shut, trapping his shouts. She was dragging you down the stairs as you heard him fling the door back open and barrel after you. She whipped around, waving a finger up at him.

“You stay right there,” she ordered him, voice fierce and booming. Then, as she kept going, she told you, “I’m taking you straight home to talk to your parents. This friendship is over.”

The way that Steve wailed ‘no,’ had to have been the most excruciatingly painful sound you had ever heard. Tears sprang to your own eyes, and you didn’t even try to conceal the whimpers that fell from your lips. Mrs. Harrington couldn’t have cared less, ripping her car keys off the wall next to the front door.

“Mom, wait, just wait!” Steve’s voice was strained, but desperate.

You tried to look back at him, only catching glimpses as you were being hauled away by his mother. You could see the petrified anguish etching Steve’s features, his tired eyes practically popping out of their sockets. His hair in complete disarray, his sweatpants hung low and his t-shirt all twisted. He was the most beautiful mess, and you were being taken away from him.

“Not another step, Steven Harrington!” his mother barked, voice shrill.

Steve came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, and even though he was a good distance away now you could see his shoulders shaking and bottom lip trembling. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you felt like throwing up.

Paula Harrington was now standing next to her car, opening the passenger side door. No way in hell was she going to march you over to your house, directly across the street, just so that all of your neighbors could watch and stare from inside their respective homes. She ushered you in quickly, giving you no choice but to obey. You crawled into the front seat, pulling your knees to your chest, crying into them. You felt so ashamed and embarrassed – and for what? Falling asleep next to your best friend? Yeah, that’s exactly what you had done that caused this twisted guilt to stir up inside you.

“I’m taking you straight home,” she told you, cold and fierce. “And you’re not to step foot over here again. Do you understand?”

You bit into your knees, clenching your eyes shut in shame. Mrs. Harrington slammed the door shut, making you jump. The sound, along with her words, rang in your ears.

This friendship is over.

Your mind was reeling, stomach churning. You clutched your legs, tugging them impossibly closer to your chest and you rocked in the front seat of Paula’s car. You looked out the window, watching Steve run towards you. His mom held out a hand, and you could hear their entire conversation through the thin glass window as you sniffled.

“Mom, nothing happened,” Steven insisted, voice broken.

“You expect me to believe that?!” Mrs. Harrington shot back at him with zero sympathy. “How many times has this happened, Steven?”

Steve raked his fingers through his chestnut hair, distressed and breathing hard. “You don’t understand, we just fell asleep –”

“How many?”

“Whenever I can’t sleep!” Steve screamed at her, and his mother visibly pulled back. “Because y-you –” Steve gasped for air. “D-dad, it’s just –” Steve pressed his lips together, words failing him, so painfully frustrated with himself and this entire situation. “God, it’s nothing, Mom. Nic comes over here, and s-sometimes I go there –”

“You sleep at her house?” his mother interrupted, shocked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Steve cries. His mother is now frozen, taken aback by the hysteria in his voice. As her son stares back at her, tears threatening to spill over and lips parted, she finally shakes her head.

“You’re almost thirteen years old, Steven,” she says, voice low and bitter. “You’re too damn old to be having little sleepovers with girls. You know how this looks. I know what you were doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve shook his head, violently.

“Yes. I do.”

“NO, YOU DON’T.” Steve wailed, completely falling apart. “You don’t know anything. And I don't care that you don’t, because Nicole knows and that’s all I care about.”

His mother gawked at him, and Nicole could tell that his words stung her a bit. Still, Paula stood her ground.

“Well whatever you two are doing, it’s over,” she said, coolly.

Steve’s face crumpled. “No, please –”

“You’ve got plenty of guys you can hang out with, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington said, tongue sharp. “They can sleep over whenever you want. Go call them.”

Steve flung his arms up in the air, running his hands through his hair again as he whirled around in a full 360 before facing her again.

“I don’t care about them –”

“Start caring,” she said simply, turning to walk towards the car again. She was approaching the driver’s side to open her door.

“Mom, no, NO!” Steve lurched forward, trying to grab her car keys. His mother jumped back, reacting just in time. Her reflexes served her justice as she whipped the keys out of his reach.

“What is the matter with you?!” Paula looked absolutely stunned now.

But Steve wouldn't listen, still trying to wrench the keys from her hands. They rustled, arms and limbs tangled as they both struggled to overpower the other. Paula stuttered verbal protests, while Steve whimpered and grunted. You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell, despite how utterly broken you felt. Because Steve wasn’t letting you slip away that easily – and while you were too timid to speak up for yourself, he wasn’t. He was always the brave one. At school. Whenever you fell off your bike, or slipped on the playground. Nobody could pick on you, so long as Steve was there. Not even his parents could, apparently.

Eventually, Mrs. Harrington got the upper hand. No doubt due to the fact that Steve wouldn’t actually be physically aggressive towards his own mother. She tugged hard, causing Steve to lose his footing and stumble back onto the ground. He collapsed, landing on his side and barely catching himself. Paula gasped, watching him make a harsh impact with the concrete sidewalk.

“Steve, baby –” she breathed, noting the bad scrape on his arm.

Steve began to convulse with ugly sobs, curling in on himself. He gritted his teeth, lips stretched thin. Mrs. Harrington stared in horror for only a moment before kneeling beside him to assess the damage. She might not have been a warm person, but she wasn’t a violent one either. That was all his father. She didn’t believe in putting a hand on her kid. She just didn’t do anything to stop it when Mr. Harrington did.

“Give me your arm,” she said, her voice shaking now.

“Please, mom, please,” Steve bawled, pulling away from her and cowering back. Paula noted the way her son wouldn’t look at her now, and she hated it. It reminded her of the way he was around his father. And she was not his father. She was hardly a mother, but more importantly she was not his father. She swallowed hard, pride overcoming any deeply buried traces of warmth and love within her.

“Listen to me,” she tried again, voice still shaking. “Give me your arm.”

But Steve just unabashedly wailed, now feebly sitting up. Tears streamed down his cheeks, drops of blood forming on his freshly scraped arm. The guttural cries escaping his lips were so agnonized, Paula couldn’t understand it. She had never seen him like this. He just kept murmuring unintelligible things that sounded like don’t, don’t, don’t, and please, no, and pathetically trying to get the keys from her. His efforts were futile, but he wouldn’t back down.

“Steven,” she said, incredulously. “Stop.”

“Mom, she’s the only friend I have.”

Steve’s tortured words landed hard, on both you and Paula. They hit you like a freight train, piercing your heart.

Steve cried and cried, finally looking at his mother again as he admitted this treacherously painful confession in a wrecked voice. Paula couldn’t believe it. There was no way that Steve didn’t have friends. She had seen him. At his games, and social gatherings. He got along with everybody. She didn’t have to be at school with him to know he was popular. All the girls had a crush on him, and all the guys wanted to be around him. No way were you the only friend he had. No way was he as lonely as he was saying that he was. He wasn’t, he just wasn’t… Was he?

But then Paula realized it wasn’t a matter of him not having friends. It was only a matter of you. You, his other limb since he was the age of six. You, who spent every birthday and holiday with him. You, who sat with him on the bus, and at lunch, and any party you both went to together or with your families. You, who somehow seemed to be everywhere, in every memory. She’d never really thought much of it, assuming it was just some childhood crush or next door neighbor that you would both eventually outgrow. And when she had found you in his bed, naturally, she assumed the worst. You and Steve were both in middle school. This was prime time for puberty, and exploring sexuality. It was the pre-high school danger zone. No way around it. But come to think of it, she’d never seen you act as anything other than friends. Not that that mattered. Friends liked each other, too. It all had to start somewhere.

Paula glanced up at the passenger window of her car, spotting you. You still had your knees to your chest, fresh tears of your own spilling down your cheeks. She would never admit it, but the sight of you looking so hurt – thanks to her – made her heart ache. She knew you were a good girl. If anything, you were obnoxiously good. Sometimes she wondered if you had a single mean bone in your body. It was infuriating, really.

She turned back to her son, who was still weeping uncontrollably and waiting for her to respond. That really drove the knife deeper into her heart, and she could feel herself cracking. The brutal truth of it all was landing, the realization dawning on her.

You were Steve’s home.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would never be that for their son. Nor would their great big house. No social status, or money, or upper class school would give him refuge. But you? You did that. Have been doing that for the past six years.

Steve didn’t lack friends. He lacked family. And you were far closer to family than his actual family was.

Mrs. Harrington took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose, keeping her emotions at bay. She pushed her bangs out of her face, slowly rising to stand. She closed her eyes briefly, mustering up whatever strength was left in her. Then, she made her way towards you with a collected yet somber expression etching her feminine features.

All you could do was watch her, unable to breathe as you anxiously waited to see what she was about to do. To your surprise, she reached for the handle…and opened your door. You sat there, frozen in place. Mrs. Harrington didn’t hurry you back out of her car, seeing how visibly afraid you were. Instead, she just tilted her head slightly, and you knew that was your cue. Newfound relief surged through you, and you felt the ice pick that was lodged in your chest finally melt. Cautiously, you made your way out of the passenger’s seat, your bare feet touching the grass. You looked up at her timidly, finding her expression to be blank.

Then you turned to Steve. Beautiful, sweet Steve. He was still on the ground, his cries steadying. When he saw you step out of the car, he stumbled to his feet, hiccuping. You kept your head low, shoulders slumped as you made your way towards him. You crashed into his chest, feeling the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders as Steve’s arms wrapped around you.

Steve’s entire world had ended just a few minutes ago, and now it had begun again. The second you were back in his arms, everything was alright. He still hiccupped and whimpered, but you did too. You just held each other, crying softly.

All Paula could do was watch. Something about the way her son held you – so protectively and so full of love – made something inside her stir. A sour taste filled her mouth, wanting to feel touched by it but too bitter at her own miserable reality to let it do so. Because her son resonated more love than her husband ever could. The way that Steve clung to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he swayed you both side to side, was the truest form of love that Paula had ever seen. Her friends had never held her like that, when she was a little girl. Even all grown up, Chet had never held her like that. Not even close. Not even at their happiest, years ago. Maybe she had assumed that their son would naturally be the same way.

God, was she wrong. Because as you fiddled your fingers in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, whispering how sorry you were, causing Steve to just shake his head against your shoulder and tell you not to be, Paula Harrington saw the epitome of true love shine through her son. And, by extension, you.

She hung her head, unable to look any more. It upset her too much. So she quietly made her way back inside, refusing to speak of this ever again. Not with Steve, or with you. Your parents would never know, and Chet Harrington would never know either.

As Steve held you close to him, refusing to let you go, somehow you both knew that you would never have to worry about this again. You weren’t going to be pulled apart, or stop being there for each other. Because even if you had been driven away from him today, Steve would have persisted. You would have done the same. Tethered souls cannot be untethered.

Steve was twelve years old when he found that out.

___________

It was Steve’s fifteenth birthday when he kissed you for the very first time.

His parents were out at some party that night, having brought yours along too. So the house was his for the night, until they drunkenly stumbled home. All of his friends were elated. Big house, no parents. That’s the way Carol Perkins always puts it. Steve Harrington’s house was the coolest on the block. Huge pool with a deck. Two stories, plus a man cave basement with a fully stocked mini bar that felt like an underground speakeasy. And best of all, no parental supervision.

Steve had become quite the hit, come freshman year. He was captain on the swim team, and his body showed it. His charm was as enticing as ever, winning every heart of every girl at school. His boyishly handsome features blossomed day by day, growing cuter by the second. His hair had become his statement piece, coining his nickname, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. He had it goin’ on, and everyone knew it. Including you.

You, too, were a catch. Your hair was longer, and you’d trimmed layers into your long red locks so that you had little side swept curtain bangs that all the girls wanted. You were a cheerleader, but you really loved photography. So you took that up, too. You also had a great house for parties, which your mom was always too willing to host for you and your cheer squad girlfriends. You never really planned those, so much as she did. And sure, you shared the same circle of friends as Steve. But you still had that introverted loner streak in you, liking to do your own thing. Steve was the social butterfly, his posse of admirers increasing more and more. You were popular, given that you were the freshman heartthrob’s best friend. ‘Steve’s girl.’

Except you weren’t his girl, though. Not really. Yeah, you two were inseparable as ever. That hasn’t changed. But you weren’t technically his. At least, not romantically…

“C’mon, big boy! Chug the rest’a that beer so we can play some spin the bottle!”

Tommy H. Somehow, that rowdy kid had gotten into your circle. You weren’t really sure how. He played basketball, but he was mostly on the bench. His daddy was rich, too, but he was a drunk and a slob. His step-mom was somewhere in her twenties, probably leaning more towards the younger end. No one really knew much about his actual mom, but the mommy issues definitely showed. Not that this had stopped Carol from being all over him. Those two had their tongues down each other’s throats all the time, ever since she hit on him at one of the games. They had snuck behind the bleachers to make out. Probably more. They bickered, sometimes being downright cruel to each other. But it seemed to be their thing.

Oh yeah, and about Carol. She was pretty much the same as she was in kindergarten. Bratty. Obnoxious. Loud. But when she had noticed you and Steve were still friends, and Tommy H. had made it clear to her that that wasn’t changing anytime soon, she’d retired her days of picking on you. She pretty much had since that day at recess, but especially after seeing you were this untouchable princess in Steve’s world. She didn’t get it, but she didn’t care to try. She merely accepted it, and so you let it be. You were stronger than you had been back then, having more of a voice. But you were still a good girl at heart, soft spoken and a little too forgiving.

“Oh Jesus,” Steve muttered, chuckling as he swiped at his perfect hair.

Tommy H. has an arm slung around him, getting everyone to cheer him on. You sat on the couch next to Stacy and Liz, your Paps Blue Ribbon in hand, grinning. Chug, chug, chug, everyone chanted. Soon enough, Steve’s bottle was empty and a circle was forming on the floor. You settled on the ground across from him, shooting him a cute smirk. He winked — and it didn’t matter how long you’d known him, it always made you blush.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up to find Christopher Cazaway standing above you, a soft smile on his lips. You returned it, patting the empty space beside you.

“Be my guest.”

He obliged, not hesitating to take you up on the offer. Christopher was a sophomore. Blonde, handsome, 6’5” and a basketball superstar. He was bound to get a scholarship somewhere great, no doubt in anyone's mind. He was every coach’s dream, along with every girl at the school. But as far as his personality goes, he wasn’t the jock type. He was sort of a gentle giant, with a heartwarming smile and hearty laugh. He could dribble and shoot hoops like no other, and he was drop dead handsome, but there wasn’t a vain bone in his body. Christopher was surprisingly soft spoken, almost shy. He was mature, sometimes seeming a little wise beyond his years. He seemed to talk better with adults than teens in ways. Still, everyone adored him. He got invited to every party, hosting a few of his own but rarely.

Secretly introverted kids like you noticed other like minded souls when you spotted them. But little did you know, it was Christopher who had noticed you first. Sure, he liked your vibrant red hair and ocean grey eyes. Yeah, he noticed the lean build of your legs and slim curve of your neck and jawline. Absolutely, he thought you were beautiful. He liked the thin little rings you wore on your fingers, and he thought your laugh was adorable. More than anything though, Christopher liked the way you carried and presented yourself. He liked that you were so aware, observant. You weren’t aloof, or like all the other girls that flung themselves at him. You were real. And he liked that. A lot. He kept liking more things about you, the more you both sat together in chemistry class or saw each other at basketball practice, since that’s where you had cheer meets.

“Man,” he said, crossing his legs. “Haven’t played spin the bottle since middle school.”

You hummed a light chuckle, setting down your drink. “Well if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never played period.”

He cocked an eyebrow, grinning at you. “Is that right?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I don’t get out much.”

He had to chuckle at that, knowing you were half kidding. But he didn’t doubt that you’d never played before. Not because you seemed awkward or uncomfortable, but because you weren’t like the other girls. Or anyone here, for that matter. You weren’t the typical snobby rich girl, from her snobby rich family. You were different.

From across the room, Steve watched you two talk. He found it interesting that Christopher and you talked with such ease, never having realized you two might be friends. But Stacy and Liz chimed into your conversation eventually, and Tommy H. was back to hollering again.

“Everybody, shut up!” he shouted, silencing people for the most part. He clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot. “Let’s fuck some lips.”

Girls made faces and sounds of disgust, while most of the dudes snickered in agreement. You kept a straight face, not really phased by his antics. Christopher found the kid gross, but knew he was just an ignorant freshman who thought he was hot shit. So he didn’t really let it irk him much.

“Wait,” Carol interjected, cracking open a peach schnapp. “What if, like, a guy lands on a guy?”

Tommy H. snorted. “Then you roll again. No one’s gay up in here. This isn’t a faggot party.”

Steve’s nose scrunched at that. “Tommy, c’mon, man. Don’t say that.”

You squirmed, adding softly, “that’s really not nice.”

“What?! It’s true.” Tommy H. took a swig of his beer, shrugging.

“Okay, then what about girls?” Carol pressed. Her boyfriend smiled devilishly.

“Nah, that shit’s hot,” he sneered.

“Ugh, that’s not fair!” Carol whined, but her grin contradicted her complaint. You internally rolled your eyes. Oh sweet misogyny, you thought to yourself. The selective homophobia of an insecure male asshole was enough to make you wanna puke.

“Okay, can we just — play?” Someone interjected.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, waving his hands. He placed his empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle, looking up to wriggle his eyebrows at everyone. “Who’s first?”

“You are, big guy,” Tommy H. said, clapping him in the back. “Birthday boy always kicks us off.”

Some of the teens oooh’d and giggled, dramatically. All the girls were just itching for it to be them that the bottle landed on, so that they could smooch the hot new heartthrob of Hawkins High. Their very own small town Prince Charming.

Steve shrugged, reaching to give the bottle a spin.

As you watched the bottle turn and turn, you couldn’t help but feel the anxious butterflies dance in your stomach. You weren’t sure why you hoped it landed on you. Then again, you were. In fact, you totally were. You’d loved Steve for as long as you could remember. It was inevitable, given your history. You knew he loved you, too. It just probably wasn’t like that. Still, you wondered if maybe he wanted the bottle to land on you too.

But it didn’t land on you. It landed on Becky, who couldn’t help but gasp. She looked absolutely ecstatic, giggling like a school girl. Steve look at her with a grin and raised an eyebrow, somehow looking both shy and confident.

Oh shit. Were you about to watch him kiss another girl? You hadn’t had to see that before. Sure, you knew he’d kissed another girl before. A few, actually. Steve’s first kiss had been Elsie Fitzgerald. 8th grade, behind the P.E. building. You knew that, because Steve had told you first thing. He’d nudged you in line at the cafeteria, telling you in a low voice as he plopped a milk carton on his tray. And you’d listened, pretending that it didn’t make your heart break. He was pretty happy about it, more so for himself than he was actually lit up about having kissed Elsie specifically. She had passed him a note in class, asking to be his Valentine. Your heart really sank after hearing that, wishing it had been you. After that, Steve had a few kisses with girls under his belt — none of which were with you.

You were still waiting on your first kiss.

And as that reminder floated around in your head, you watched Becky crawl across the floor to lean in and kiss your best friend on the lips. He sat still, kissing her with ease. You wondered what it felt like. The touch of his lips, which you always thought looked so soft. Becky lingered a little while, and eventually Steve pulled away with a charming smile. She squealed, flitting back to her seat and flipping her hair. The butterflies in your stomach felt blue, but you kept a light smile on your face to mask it.

Now, Tommy spun the bottle. One by one, teens kissed. Some girls even kissed, making you flush. You watched Steve kiss a couple other girls, all of them doing a horrible job at concealing their giggling fits. At some point, it was your turn to spin — and it landed right between Steve and Tommy H.

Now you really felt butterflies in your stomach. Their dance was a little angry this time, though. Your anxiety spiked, dreading the thought of kissing Tommy but nerves wrecked as you thought about getting to kiss Steve.

Your eyes glanced up at your best friend by default, finding that he was already looking back at you shyly. Tommy barked a laugh, clapping his hands.

“Look, I don’t wanna make any calls here,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “But uhhh, I’ll let the birthday boy take this one. As much as I’d love to rock your world, princess.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “That’s one way to put it.”

“C’mon, birthday boy,” Carol snickered. “Kiss your best friend.”

Steve felt himself blush, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. God, he had wondered what it felt like to kiss you for so long without even realizing that he had until this very moment. The way you were looking at him right now, looking so calm and content, he never would have known that you were so completely in love with him. He was pretty sure that he was a party of one, in that department.

Tommy kept making gross kissy noises. Steve cleared his throat, feigning lighthearted cockiness as he looked wryly at Tommy.

“Knock it off, man,” he mumbled, turning back to face you.

You watched him eye you with curiosity, as if he was silently asking you if this was okay. But you just smiled warmly, welcoming the contact. So Steve got on his knees and crawled over to you, meeting you halfway. As he got closer to you, he could see those tiny sun kissed freckles that lightly dusted your nose, and the smooth surface of your porcelain cheek. He could see the light whisk of mascara on your eyelashes, and the very neutral shade of lipstick on your full lips. He felt himself swallow, his usual bravado failing him. You looked so gentle, sweet as ever. He wondered if your tongue tasted as sweet as you were…

You sat back on your knees and heels, hands placed in your lap as you looked at him, patient and a little sheepish. Steve was so close to you now, basking in the scent of your soft perfume. It smelled like the ocean, with faint traces of coconut and vanilla. He wanted to kiss you. He really did.

“Oh my god, kiss already!” Carol screeched.

But neither of you flinched, even as the others echoed their sentiments. You breathed a tiny laugh, making Steve grin. Without thinking, he found himself placing a hand to the curve of your jaw. Oh. He hasn’t done that with the other girls. His breath lightly hitched at the contact, realizing he’d never actually been this close to you. Which made no sense, given you’d fallen asleep in the same bed for how many years now? But this was different. This type of intimacy wasn’t the same.

You subtly leaned into his touch, eyes never leaving his. His thumb stroked your cheek, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. Your noses touched, the sharp tip of his against the little perky end of yours. His breath was warm against your skin, feeling like a blanket wrapping itself around your face. You both kept leaning in, slowly. Ever so slowly.

Finally, his bottom lip grazed yours. And those butterflies in your stomach were doing a full blown ballet now. Steve felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe several beats.

Damn, he thought. Since when did kissing feel like this?

It was the way your lips moved against his, so graceful and supple. The way your fair skin felt like satin beneath his finger tips. Steve felt a rush of euphoria overcome him, reveling in the feeling of your mouth against his. Becky didn’t kiss like that. Elsie didn’t, or any of the other girls. People always said that kissing is an art. Steve did have a reputation for being a good kisser, even at just fifteen years old. He just didn’t really think much of it until he was enchanted by your kiss.

Part of him thought that there was no way you hadn’t kissed somebody before. Not with how incredible you felt brushing your lips with his. Then again — maybe it was because you had never been kissed before that it was so magical. That innocent bliss of being ‘untouched,’ not yet tainted by anyone or anything.

Meanwhile, you reveled in the rhapsody of Steve’s kiss. It was everything you ever could have dreamed it would be, and more. His lips were soft, cloud-like to the touch. He was gentle in the ways you thought he might be rough, and tame in the ways you thought might be wild. He didn’t rush anything, taking his time with even the most microscopic of movements. The light yet firm grasp of his hand on your jaw was slightly edging down towards your neck, and it was all you could do not to hum with lovesick satisfaction.

Yeah, no, everyone thought. He definitely hadn’t been this tender when kissing the other girls here.

It made those other girls watch you with envy, guys cocking an eyebrow and making immature, snide remarks under their breath. It was so obvious, the magnetic pull between the two of you. Anyone could see it. Even the two of you did, but neither of you would ever admit that. At least not anytime soon.

And as the kiss ended all too soon — well, too soon for you guys, not necessarily the others — Steve’s pillow soft lips parted from yours as he ever so slightly pulled back to look at you. Your angelic face was still just an inch or so away from his, your eyelashes fluttering open to reveal your grey irises, exposing a new tint of lovesick blue. They sparkled, dancing as you looked into his brown eyes that now looked more like the color honey. You bit your lip, a timid smile finding your freshly kissed pout.

God, Steve thought. He would've kissed you again, right then and there.

But as Tommy H. hooted and hollered, snapping your two out of your gaze, reality sunk in again. This was a party, and it was just a game. It wasn’t a real kiss. It was prompted by a bottle and reckless youth. Nothing more.

Right?

“Well alrighty then, lovebirds,” some guy chided with a dark laugh.

You blushed, casting your eyes downwards. You composed yourself, watching Steve do the same. Yep, it was just a dream.

“Yeah, since when did this become a love making session?” Tommy H. jested.

Steve shot Tommy a scowl, before watching you scooch back to where you’d been sitting. You gave him a shy smile, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. Steve quickly scooted back to his place too, across from you in the circle. He smiled back at you softly, before Tommy gave him a macho shove. Steve shoved him back, but with half the strength. He was still snapping out of it. Soon, he cleared his throat, forcing his mental fantasies to the back of his brain again.

“Alright, next up,” Steve said, straightening his hair. Fuck, did anyone else see how nervous he felt? Apparently not, because everyone seemed to resume the game like nothing had ever happened.

Christopher clicked his tongue and slapped his hands on his knees. “Welp,” he said, leaning forward. “Guess it’s me.”

He gave the bottle a good spin.

Lo and behold, it landed on you.

“Oh shit!” Tommy H. exclaimed, rolling over into a ridiculously unnecessary fit of laughter.

Carol made obnoxiously loud remarks, too, along with lots of people in the circle.

Yeah. Oh shit, indeed.

“Aww, little princess is getting all the kisses tonight,” she cooed condescendingly, her high pitched voice so fake and sugary sweet.

You felt your cheeks flush again, allowing yourself to tinker a laugh. You turned to face Christopher, finding him rubbing his neck with a bashful smile on his face. He looked at you with slightly timid eyes, chuckling nervously. He was nervous? Why would he be nervous, you wondered?

Oddly, you felt very at ease about the situation. It was just Christopher. He was always kind to you, and a good friend since you started high school. If you’d had to kiss anybody else in the circle, you would prefer it be him than some guy you hardly knew. And you certainly hoped it wouldn’t land on Tommy.

You shrugged your shoulders, giving him a little grin. He grinned back, brightly. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and it was adorable really.

Given that he was seated right next to you, no awkward crawling towards each other had to take place. You just pivoted to face him, comfortably. This kiss didn’t make you nervous. You’d just gotten your first one out of the way, with the one guy you had been in love with your whole life. So a second one with someone who was just a friend? It seemed pretty easy.

Christopher had his eyes intently on you, which dropped down to look at your lips then back up to your eyes. He leaned back on one hand, which he placed slightly behind you firmly into the carpet. It gently brushed against your hip, his tone arm ghosting over the fabric of your dress. He leaned in closer, slow and calculated, so that he was slightly looking up at you. You still weren’t nervous, though, even as you looked into his dark blue eyes. You just smiled, waiting. His loods became hooded as he tilted his head just right, so that yours could tilt the opposite way whenever your lips made contact. Sure enough, his lips found yours, and it was the most grounding kiss. It was sweet, a little firmer than Steve’s. He was soft, just a little more assertive. Suddenly you felt his other hand cup the back of your neck, his touch tender and caring but secure. It surprised you, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, you instinctively placed a hand on his knee.

If you hadn’t been busy locking lips with Christopher, you would have seen the melancholy expression on Steve’s face. But you didn’t.

Steve hopelessly watched you kiss the handsome sophomore, overcome with a sense of dread. He hadn’t taken this into account when playing the game. You know, that he’d actually have to watch you kiss another guy. Maybe that wasn’t really the problem, though. No, the problem was the way that Christopher kissed you. Was still kissing you. Steve could have sworn that he saw the blonde athlete move his lips against yours a second time, and envy creeped up his spine. Christopher definitely hadn’t kissed Linda or Molly like that earlier in the game, when the bottle had landed on him during their turn. Nah, this was just with you. Why the hell was he kissing you like that?

…why the hell was he still kissing you like that?

Steve squirmed. He felt as though he might laugh, or shout, or blurt something without being able to control himself, and he probably would have had it not been for you finally breaking contact with Christopher. Oh thank Christ, Steve thought, as he let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding this whole time.

You simply gave Christopher a warm smile, but your eyes looked slightly dazed and confused. Because you were. It had caught you a little off guard, the way that he’d just kissed you. It definitely lasted a little longer than needed. Not that you minded it. You didn’t really know what to think of it, actually. One thing was for sure, his gaze on you was not one he’d given any of the other girls that night. You knew that much. You might’ve been uncharacteristically oblivious to Steve’s feelings for you, but you weren’t blind to someone else’s. Before now, though, you never really thought that Christopher felt anything for you aside from friendship. But now, it seemed that he did. It seemed he very much did.

Huh, you thought. Interesting.

You still hadn’t looked over to see Steve’s disheartened expression in the midst of all the immature teenagers in a circle, making a series of noises and comments following the kiss. He hoped that no one was watching him. Then again, would he even care if they did? That didn’t matter, not when he cared way more about the fact that some other guy was looking at you like that. It didn’t sit right. It really didn’t sit right.

But what was he gonna do about it? Say, “Hey Christopher, it’s my birthday, so maybe back off my girl?” No, because you weren’t technically his. You were your own.

…but your heart was his.

…and his heart was yours.

Steve doesn’t really remember much after that. He knew they hadn’t been playing for much longer, and that eventually everyone wanted to shotgun some more beers. He knew that Linda and Becky had been saying something to him in the lavish living room, as they twirled their hair and batted their lashes. He knew that Tommy H. had been daring everyone to jump in the pool, dragging Carol in with him. Teens screeched and hollered, splashing and laughing while the Eagles blasted in the background from the Harrington’s flashy stereo inside the house.

Steve does remember when “Sweet Emotion” by Aerosmith had started to play. He was leaning against his kitchen island, making small talk with some of the guys. You were out by the pool, red solo cup in hand, and you had started to sway to yourself. The skirt of your dress flicked at the corners, your toned legs sashaying you from side to side. You turned a little, so that he could see your profile. You were grinning ear to ear, in your own little world. He loved when you did that. You were so damn adorable when you did that. You lifted a hand into the air – the one not holding your cup of booze – closing your eyes, and singing the words.

Sweet emotion…

You talk about things that nobody cares

Wearing out things that nobody wears

You turn so that you’re now facing the open sliding glass door, opening your eyes as you fix your gaze on Steve. Your eyes are a little hazy, but still glow. You point your finger at Steve, serenading him in your buzzed stupor. Your grin deepens as you sing the next words along with Steven Tyler.

You’re calling my name, but I gotta make clear

I can’t say, baby, where I’ll be in a year

Steve can feel himself smiling like an idiot, shaking his head as he lets out a throaty chuckle that’s drowned out by the music. He bites his lip absentmindedly, watching you just exist. You throw your head back, smiling at the sky, hips still swaying.

Stacy makes her way over to you from the other side of the pool, definitely more drunk than you were. She sings loudly, catching your attention. You look down from the black night sky to look at her, and you laugh when you see her wanting to join you. She grabs your hand, twirling you around and singing everything off key.

Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent

Said my get up and go, must've got up and went

Well I got good news, she's a real good liar

'Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire

As the guitar solo rips through the stereo speakers, your dancing intensifies. Everyone in the pool seem to be getting rowdier, also singing Aerosmith at the top of their lungs.

Stacy’s footing betrays her and she stumbles, laughing drunkenly. You catch her, making sure that she’s okay and stifling a laugh. But once you see that she’s clearly fine, you laugh too. Liz makes her way out of the pool to check on her, squatting down and clutching her hands and still singing while Stacy just keeps laughing.

Steve takes the opportunity to approach you as you stand alone again, sneaking up quickly to grab you and spin you around. You squeal, feeling his chest pressed to your back as your legs dangle off the ground. You hold onto his toned arms tightly, giggling uncontrollably. When he sets you back down, you turn so that you’re looking directly at him.

Sweet emotion…

Your stomach does flip-flops, seeing his signature Steve Harrington smiled directed only at you. His brown eyes hold a certain mischief in them, and you can’t help but feel a rush of love for this boy you’d known since you were just barely in kindergarten. He lifts your hand to twirl you, and suddenly you’re six years old again, dancing in your treehouse with Steve. The real world ceases to exist, and it’s just the two of you in your own fantasy world. No matter what ups and downs, highs and lows, good days and bad days, heartache and joy, that reality throws both of your way – the one constant you both have had is each other. Somehow, that’s never changed.

You both sing to each other, hand in hand and hips in time with the music.

I pulled into town in a police car

Your daddy said I took it just a little too far

You're telling her things but your girlfriend lied

You can't catch me 'cause the rabbit done died

Yes it did

Now everyone around you is losing their mind, screaming the words and partying like animals as the song continues to blare. It’s an 80’s rock-n-roll kind of vibe, full of teen angst, booze and sexual tension. Guys shotgun more beer by the pool, couples make out in the deep end. Girls hold each other with limp limbs and sloppy smiles, slurring the words and proclaiming their girl power love for each other. They won’t remember it tomorrow, but for tonight it’s the glorious eternal truth.

As for you – Nicole St. James, the freshman mystery girl and princess in the making – you’ve only got eyes and moves for your best friend in the world. Steve Harrington, Hawkins High’s soon-to-be very own King Steve. Two best friends and lovers in denial, hopelessly devoted to one another, just without the title. You both dance around the truth together on his posh pool deck. The confident shake of his hips and thrusts of yours fool you blind from seeing that you are just as equally afraid as he is to make the wrong move.

Stand in the front just a shakin' your ass

I'll take you backstage, you can drink from my glass

I'll talk about something you can sure understand

'Cause a month on the road and I'll be eating from your hand

Steve knows that something’s gotta give. He knows that it can’t go on like this forever. But for him, this is safe. This is forever. What you two have guarantees that you’ll both make it. That you’ll never go away. You won’t abandon him, or lose interest in him. If he keeps his distance, even tangled up in your arms when dancing in his backyard or falling asleep next to you, then he’ll always keep you close. All the money in the world, but he could never afford to lose that. Not ever.

And you don’t say anything to make him change his mind. To make him ask you to be his. To make a move beyond a kiss shared in a public game of spin-the-bottle. To tell you that he doesn’t just love you – but that he is in love with you. You don’t confess it either, no matter how fiercely you want to do exactly that. Because as selfish as it was, you were content too. You never minded being on your own, but a world without Steve stopped being fathomable in 1972 on that brisk afternoon in your treehouse. The second he had knocked on your pastel yellow door, in his little sage green sweater, jeans and converse, your solitude had made room for a second person. He was your other half, so it really wasn’t even surrendering solitude. It was simply completing it. Steve completed it. Completed you.

_________________

To be continued…

VOLUME II next month 🖤

TAG LIST: @loveshotzz @creelhousesteve @t-lostinworlds @freezaz123 @zbeez-outlet @cutiecusp @unhealthyobservationsloves @sunioli

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve au #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #team steve #joe keery #king steve #steve harrington au #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington x fem!character

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fangirlinsweden · 8 months

Text

Just One Kiss: Part 20

Part 20: Trouble

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Flirting, entitled people, bitchiness, suggestive language and anxiety (think that is all)

Count: about 4700 words

Summary: You have been suspended from work and do not know what to do with yourself. Then in just a matter of hours, you find yourself on a plane to Montana to stay with people you have never met before. And as if that is not enough one of the men you are supposed to get to know is handsome enough to make your knees shake.

A/N: I do not know anything about the professions that are detailed in this story. I have googled most things I did not know and therefore there can be some inconsistency.

English is not my first language, so there will be mistakes.

And a big thank you to the amazing @dreamcatchernightsky not only for giving great support and helping me stay motivated but also for the amazing dividers for this story. You are AMAZING!

I also want to give a big thanks to @banditthewriter & @kaunis-sielu & @maw000 for their support! Thank you!

And a big thank you to my incredible Cat for being my beta reader! As well as @dreamcatchernightsky

You did not really know what to do when the bus came with the people for the cattle drive. It felt wrong greeting them together with Steve and Peter, but the two stood wide apart and it did not look inviting at all. The fight they had earlier had put up a kind of wall between them. Nat was in her room on the phone with work, and you did not know when she would be coming down. Steve had booked a bus to take everyone from town out to the ranch. You had heard him muttering something about not wanting too many cars on the ranch but had not questioned it any more than that. Peter had a clipboard with the names of the people who had booked the cattle drive as well as what room they would be staying in that night.

First out of the bus when it stopped was a middle-aged couple who were holding hands. The man stepped out first and held on to the woman as she stepped out. The man was dressed as you would assume a college professor would be dressed. He had a square jawline and his features were well defined. He was clean-shaven and had short hair with some grey in it, but it made him more handsome. The woman had long black hair that was up in a ponytail and she had a bit of a stern look on her face. That, matched with her all-black clothing, made her give off a no-nonsense vibe. But when she looked at her husband, the smile she gave him really soften her features. You took a step toward them. “Welcome to Rogers Ranch.” You smiled and held out your hand since neither Peter nor Steve were doing anything. “Thank you,” the man said and shook your hand. “I’m Phil Coulson and this is my wife, Melinda.” “Pleased to meet you,” you smiled and shook Melinda’s hand. “Peter, over there, has a clipboard with all the room assignments and he will cross you off the list.. He also has a schedule you can look at.” They smiled and walked over to Peter. You wanted to go over there and see to it that Peter and Steve played good hosts, but the next pair was already stepping off the bus.

This time it was a man around your age that stepped out. He looked around to assess the surroundings. It gave you time to study him. He had a strong jawline and a kind of squared face. His dark brown hair caught some sun and it almost looked like there was some red in it. But when he turned around and helped the woman after him down the steps, he smiled and it made his face look so much more relaxed. There was no mistaking that they were a couple. The woman smiled at the man; she looked a bit younger than him. Her heart-shaped face had almond-shaped eyes and a straight nose. Her skin was glowing and it almost looked like her eyes were shining. She had long curly hair that is a mix of honey and light brown. She let out kind of a laugh when she looked around and her smile was warm and contagious. All you could think was that she was someone that everybody would want in their life t. They walked together towards you and you noticed that the man had a slight limp. “Welcome to Rogers Ranch,” you greeted them and held out a hand. The woman walked forward and took your hand. “Thank you. This place looks amazing,” she smiled. “We’re Daisy and Daniel.” She looked back to Daniel and he only had eyes for Daisy. “I am Y/N,” you smiled at them and nodded toward Peter, Steve, and the first couple you had talked to. “Peter, over there with the clipboard, has what rooms you have been assigned, will cross you off as having arrived as well as show you the schedule.” They nodded and walked over to Peter.

Another couple walked out of the bus. This time it was the woman who walked out first. The woman was wearing jeans and a tailored dark blue jacket. Her face was oval and her light skin had a healthy glow. She looked young, but at the same time as though she had seen more than her share of hard times. Her light brown hair was up in a high ponytail. Behind her, a young man, about the same age as the woman, came out. The man looked around, kind of quickly, side to side. He had a square-shaped face with high cheekbones. There was a small amount of stubble on his face, but it suited him. Even though he was dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved light blue shirt, his dark brown hair was slightly messy and disheveled. The woman started walking towards you but noticed that the man was still standing just outside the bus looking around. “Come on, Leo,” the woman said and looked over at him. Her accent made you realise that she came from England. “Yeah, I just need to tie my shoes,” Leo answered and crouched down. The woman walked over to you. “Welcome to Rogers Ranch.” She smiled brightly at you and before you could say another word she started talking. “Thank you so much,” she gushed and looked around. “We wanted to try something new, and then Leo found this on some website and we booked it. Leo loves old western movies and I love to ride, so this is a great way to do something new.” “Yeah,” you said, not really knowing what to say. “Oh, sorry,” the woman said. “I’m Jemma.” “Hi Jemma, I am Y/N,” you replied. “Peter over there will have room assignments and a schedule.” “Thank you,” Jemma answered and walked towards Peter, Steve, and the other people who had arrived. Steve was talking with Phil and Daniel and seemingly enjoying himself. You turned your attention back towards the bus and saw that Leo was finished with his shoes and looking around again. He saw that Jemma had moved over to Peter, so he gave you a small wave before he walked towards Jemma. As Leo walked away, two men exited the bus. The first man is tall, built, and muscular. With his square-shaped face, long blond hair, and piercing blue eyes, he could have been a Norse god, or a Viking. He was dressed in light jeans, a black t-shirt and a tan jacket. The man that stepped out behind him almost looked like his opposite, still tall, but he was lean instead. He had black hair that was slicked back, and was dressed in black suit with a green shirt under. He did not look like a man dressed for being on a ranch. Both men came forward at the same time, and you smiled at them. “Welcome to Rogers Ranch. I am Y/N and it's a pleasure to have you here.” You smiled and held out your hand. “The pleasure is all ours,” the tall, slender man said with an accent that you couldn’t really place, and took a grandiose bow before he took your hand and kissed it. It made you blush and you didn’t really know how to respond. The other man takes your hand from the slender man. “Please excuse my brother, fair lady,” the man said, and also placed a kiss on your hand. “We are not accustomed to such beauty to greet us.” It made you blush even more. “Oh, well thank you.” You tried not to look over at Steve and kept your mind on the two extremely handsome men in front of you. This attention was flattering to say the least, but your heart belonged to Steve. “I am Loki,” said the dark haired man. “And this is my brother, Thor.” The names told you that you were kind of right about Thor being a Viking.

Peter looked on as the two men were flirting with Y/N and he could almost hear Steve grind his teeth. He did not know how Steve could stand there talking with Phil and Daniel about the farm, and still keep an eye on Y/N, but somehow he did. A part of Peter really hoped that Steve would walk over there and toss Y/N over his shoulder and walk away. However, Peter also knew that Steve had more manners and control than that. Still, Peter wished that someone else was seeing Steve’s behaviour. That's when Peter saw a couple of knowing smiles, between the people around them. Looking from Steve to Y/N. It made Peter almost giddy. His plan might actually work.

After getting both Loki and Thor to go over to Peter and the rest of the gang, two women stepped out of the bus, looking as if they had been to a costume shop before coming there. Both had tight dark blue jeans, and white tight tank tops on as well as short-sleeved flannels that were tied at the waist. The woman that had long, dark hair and an oval shaped face was dressed in gingham that was hot pink and white. On her head she had a hot pink stetson, with a sparkly black buckle accented band. The other woman with long, golden hair and a more heart-shaped face, wore white and sultry red. She had on a black stetson, with a red sparkly buckle accented band. Together they walked over to you. “Welcome to-” was all you got out before the woman with golden hair held a finger in the air. “We've been waiting in the bus for someone to help us with our luggage forever” She had kind of a pout on her lips. “Don’t you know the meaning of customer service?” the other woman crossed her arms, while the first woman looked you up and down. You felt like you were once again standing in front of the mean girls at school, and did not really know what to say. “I am sorry.” You cleared your throat and looked over to the group that stood a bit away, trying to get either Peter or Steve for some help. But they were immersed in conversation. “This is not a luxury hotel, this is a working ranch.” You tried saying it with your normal calm voice. One of the women kind of scoffed. “Of course, we know it's a ranch,” the woman with golden hair said. “That’s why we are here. For all the cowboys.” The women looked around and you felt lost. What were they planning? “So where are they?” the woman with the dark hair asked and started to look around. Then they saw Steve and Peter and just left you standing there. You looked after them before sighing and following. The women had not said their names and so far all they seemed to be were trouble.

Two women came over to Peter but started to ogle Steve. He could see them looking him up and down, and he felt like he was cattle in an auction. Y/N came over as well, which made the two men, Loki and Thor, turn to her and talk. They seemed to have questions about the farm and Y/N seemed to be happy to answer them. The bus driver had put out all the bags from the luggage compartment under the bus and placed them on the ground. He waved goodbye to Steve and left. Steve was at a loss, he did not really know if he should leave, or what he should do. He did not like the two men talking to Y/N so he wanted to stay close to her, but the two women made him uncomfortable. The way they were looking at him was like he was a tall glass of water and they were thirsty. He looked at Y/N again and she met his eyes and smiled, which made him realise that he could not leave Peter and her together with all these guests. As if Y/N read his thoughts she clapped her hands. Maybe she just saw the panic in his eyes? “Peter and I will now show you to your rooms, so you can get settled,” she said when she got everyone's attention. “But what about the hot cowboys?” the woman with golden hair pouted. Steve saw something come over Y/N's face but then it disappeared just as fast. “Steve has to go check on some things, but he will be back later,” Y/N said, winking at him. It was as if she was giving him an out, a way to disappear from this. How could she know that it was just what he needed? He had just thought he could not leave them, but now she kind of gave him permission. Was it strange how a woman like that had caught his heart? He winked back and said his goodbyes. It felt both wrong and right to go. When he turned around he saw that both Thor and Loki were walking close beside Y/N towards all the bags on the ground. Something that Loki said made her laugh and Steve wanted to go over there and claim her in front of them all, to make the men leave her alone. Steve cursed under his breath and walked towards the barn. When he meet Bucky just outside the barn, the man gave him a smirk, showing Steve that his friend knew exactly what was going on in his head.

Y/N looked after Steve as he walked away. You could almost see how the tension left his body in stages the further he went from the group. You looked away from his retreating form and turned to the group of people who seemed to wait for you to take charge. “Let's get your bags and we will show you to your rooms,” you smiled and made a gesture to where the bags had been dropped off by the bus driver. Thor and Loki walked step by step with you, one on either side. “I think I hear a New York accent in your voice,” Thor smiled at you, and you nodded. “Born and raised.” “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” Loki said. It made you laugh, it seemed like both Thor and Loki would be providing a bit of comedy during the trip. “That's a long story,” you answered after a while, not wanting to go into depth in how you got here. “We have the time,” Thor smiled at you. “All week,” Loki agreed and you knew that they were flirting with you. And sure they were both handsome and all, but you only had eyes for one man. Which was Steve. Before you can say something to answer you were called by Peter. He did not have a question, instead he only asked if you were okay. Which you were, but it warmed your heart that he cared to ask.

At the bags, everyone took theirs except the two women that you still did not have a name for. “I don’t understand why there isn’t a big strong cowboy that can carry my bags?” The woman with dark brown hair pouted and looked around as if a cowboy would just appear. “I agree with Lorelei,” said the woman with golden hair. Well, now you at least had one name for the woman. “This is not some luxury vacation,” you explained. “This is a working ranch and you have signed up for a cattle drive. This means that you will have to pull your own weight and take care of your own luggage as well as other responsibilities, as it said on the website where you booked your travel.” You noticed that around you the other people are nodding. This was one of the things Peter had actually put on the website. “If you rather have a luxurious vacation, you should have gone to a spa,” Peter added, and the women looked at you with crossed arms. But you were not going to back down. It was not your job to carry bags or cater to their fantasy of what they were going to experience here. “But,” started Lorelei and almost had a quiver on her lips. You almost expected Loki or Thor to come and help the women, but they don’t. They are standing some to the side pointing at the mountains in the distance and talking. “Come on,” the dark-haired woman said and took her bags. “We will probably be surrounded by hot cowboys as soon as we leave tomorrow, and then have the vacation we wanted.” Lorelei smiled at this and picked up her two dark red bags and the other took hold of her two hot pink ones.

You turned and together you walked into the house. Peter stopped everyone by the door and asked them to please take off their shoes upon entering and they all agreed, even if Lorelei and her friend grumbled some. Some part of you just knew that these two would be trouble, not only today but all throughout the trip. It also made you a bit anxious seeing how they had looked at Steve earlier. Were one or both of them going to make a move on him during the cattle drive? Was there any way you could make it so they wouldn't? You walked up the stairs and showed each couple to their room. Jemma and Leo had been assigned the room you had been sleeping in. Thor and Loki the room next to that and so on. Everyone seemed happy with their assigned rooms, but you could see that both Lorelei and her friend would not be happy with the twin beds in the same room and sharing a bathroom with two other people. “This is really not acceptable,” said the dark-haired woman and crossed her arms once again. Peter just shook his head, not really knowing what to say. “I agree with Amora,” said Lorelei. It started to get on your nerves and you really wanted to say something snippy at them, but decided against it. “This is what we have to offer,” you said, trying to sound nice. “I am sorry if it’s not up to your standards, but I can’t give you anything else.” “I want to talk to whoever runs this place,” Amora whined. Just then Nat came out of her room and looked over at you standing with Amora, Lorelei and Peter. “Is there a problem?” Nat asked and you almost wanted to sink to your knees in gratitude. Nat would be able to deal with this problem so much better than you. “Are you the owner?” Lorelei asked, looking Nat up and down. “I thought it was the cowboy before, Steve, that was the owner,” Amora looked Nat up and down as well. “This is a family ranch,” you tried to intervene. “Steve, Peter, and Nat are siblings.” “Hmph,” was the sound that came out of Amora's mouth. “What is the problem?” Nat asked again and you noticed that Melinda stood in the doorway to the room she and her husband were going to sleep in. It almost looked like she was ready to jump in if it was needed. “We don’t like our room,” Lorelei pouted and crossed her arms again. This time making sure that by doing so she pushed her breasts up even further making them look bigger. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Peter seemed to notice as well, because his face became a bit redder and he looked away. “I am sorry that you feel that way,” Nat countered. “This is what we have, if you don’t want to spend the night in one of the bunkhouses, but they are not clean for guests and you would have to share the bathroom with all the ranch hands.” There was a small gasp from Lorelei at the thought of that, and it did not sound like a happy gasp. “Or we could pitch the tent you will be sleeping in during the cattle-drive and you could sleep in that tonight, you know, to get used to it,” Nat added with a smirk. “We will take this room,” Amora got out and turned around into the room with her bags. “Did you know we would be sleeping in tents the whole week?” you heard Lorelei ask as she closed the door to the room. Amora's answer was not heard, but you figured it would not be a nice surprise if she did not know. Nat looked at you and smirked. “Trouble,” both she and you said at the same time. Peter just looked at the two of you and shook his head.

After everyone had settled into their rooms, it was time for the test to see how they were with horses. You had asked everyone to dress for interacting with the horses, and everyone changed clothes, except Amora and Lorelei. Instead of saying anything, Nat and you just went with it. Peter had gone ahead to help Wanda take out the horse to the paddock. Together you walked toward the stable and paddock. Once again, both Thor and Loki were keeping close to you asking questions. All, except Lorelei and Amora, were asking questions about the ranch. Since you learned a lot during your visit you could answer most of the questions, but some Nat answered as well. Seeing Wanda and Peter standing at the horses, a lot of people oohed wed and awed. “Oh horses,” Jemma sighed almost dreamingly. “But where are the cowboys?” Lorelei asked, clearly not happy. She sounded like a small child on the verge of a breakdown. “Or at least the handsome one from when we arrived?” Amora sounded just as happy as Lorelei. “They are busy,” Nat answered and walked over to the horses. Everyone followed and stood still looking at the horses. “To pair you up with the best horse for you during the cattle drive we need to know your riding abilities as well as how you handle a horse,” Peter said holding a notebook. After that he started to ask everyone their history with riding. As Steve and you had expected, there were some variations of who had ridden a lot and who had not. It took about an hour, but then you had a good understanding of who should ride which horse during the cattle-drive. It kind of surprised you how good Loki and Thor were with the horses, but they could easily be mistaken as someone who worked at the ranch, from what you could see.

You gathered everyone again and said that if they wanted to freshen up they could and then that it was time for dinner. You also informed them that after dinner there would be time for them to pack the saddlebags that were in their rooms since they were leaving early the next day. Almost directly after breakfast. Peter also said that if there were any questions about the packing or anything else, both him, Nat, and yourself would be available for questions. Everyone left to go wash up and it suddenly felt as if you could breathe again. Peter went to find Steve, while Nat and you walked into the kitchen to get something to drink and wash up.

Steve was pacing in his office. He had done what he needed to before the cattle drive the next day, but he was starting to feel a bit worried about the single people on the cattle drive. Both for Y/N's sake, but also for his sake. He wanted to claim her as his girlfriend in front of everyone, to stop any advances on Y/N from the men, but they had decided to keep it quiet a bit longer. So what were his options? There was a knock on his door and Peter walked in. “We are ready for dinner now,” he said and Steve nodded. “Is something wrong?” Peter asked when Steve seemed distracted. “He is worried about the male guests and their interest in Y/N,” Bucky's voice said from the open door. “And probably the women that were eying him like hungry tigers.” Bucky chuckled at the distressed look Steve got at those notions. “Oh, that,” Peter lifted his shoulders. “That is an easy fix.” Steve turned his gaze towards Peter. “How?” he asked, trying to understand what option Peter had. Tossing the four people off the ranch and paying them back? It was a thought he had earlier, but he had a feeling that Y/N would see that as some kind of caveman-style jealousy and maybe that he did not trust her. Which he did, but not being with her. Showing his love. “Just ask Y/N to fake a relationship with you during the cattle drive so that you will be left alone by Lorelei and Amora.” Peter said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world, and maybe it was. Fake a relationship with someone, nobody, or almost nobody, knew that you were in. To be able to kiss her, touch her. It sounded like a good idea. “It would also keep Thor and Loki from Y/N,” Peter shrugged again. “He has a good point,” Bucky smirked, and it told Steve that he probably knew that the relationship would not be a fake one. “Nat would never fall for it,” Steve breathed out. “I think she would, especially since Lorelei and Amora are really pushing her buttons,” Peter smiled and looked at Bucky who just nodded. “How do I tell her?” Steve asked and Bucky just lifted his hands. “Just tell her how uncomfortable you are with the two women and see what she says,” Peter smiled. “I can do that,” Steve nodded. It was his sister, even if she wanted to torment him, she would probably not want him to be tormented like this. He hoped.

Walking towards the worker's barracks the smell of grilled meat filled the air and you realised just how hungry you were. Most of the ranch workers were already sitting at the picnic tables talking. Frank stood by the grill looking powerful and in charge. He had a black apron on that had text on it, but you could not read what it said. You heard Lorelei and Amora walking just in front of you. “Oh, look at all the cowboys,” Lorelei all but purred. “This is what I am talking about,” Amora smiled, looking around. You rolled your eyes, something you had a feeling that you would have to do a lot when spending time with the two of them.

Standing with Wanda looking at the guest taking the food Frank had placed on a long table you looked forward to crawling down in bed and sleeping. Steve had come from the barn together with Bucky and Peter, but he had taken Nat aside and was talking with her. They were not close so you could hear, but it looked to be a serious conversation. It gave you a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you decided to ignore it and concentrate on something else. Now that you were closer to Frank you saw that his apron said: Mr Good Looking is doing the cooking. It made you smile, probably a gift from Billy. Amora and Lorelei were last in the queue and now face to face with Frank. You were so close that you could hear what they said. “You wereright about the good-looking part,” Amora winked at Frank, clearly liking what she saw. You felt bad for Frank, seeing as she looked ready to eat him up. This can not get any worse you thought, but then it did. “Where is the vegetarian food?” asked Lorelei. “The what?” asked Frank and crossed his arms. Trouble, you whispered to yourself before walking towards them.

Just One Kiss Tag List:

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@et-homephone

@couldabeenamermaid

Everything Tag list:

@buckysmischief

@allaboutthebooz

@dreamcatchernightsky

@leosandbuckysgirl

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If you want to be added to this series tag list or my everything tag list, please let me know.

I am sorry if I have missed someone on the tag list. Life has been crazy lately and I just gotten back to writing again

#Just One Kiss #Just One Kiss part 20 #Just One Kiss series #FangirlInSweden #Steve Rogers AU #Steve Rogers x Reader #cOWBOY! sTEVE rOGERS #Steve Rogers x y/n #Steve AU #Marvel AU #MCU AU #Captain America AU

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babylove00 · 2 years

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His past and present

summery: steve rogers was a man out of time, he was kissing the girl of his dreams one moment and 70 years into the future another. when steve goes back to the past to be with the the dream girl he realizes that shes 70 years in the future. one moment he was laughing with her and the next he was standing infront of peggys Carter's house. steve rogers is a man out of time.

warnings: angst! fluff, crying, steve missing reader, kissing.

Paring: steve Rogers x fem reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The sun shined through the tree as y/n watched steve step on that platform, the pain in her chest wouldnt die even though she said she was happy for him and told him she wasnt mad, she was. the hurt and anger burned the back of her throat.

That over the years of love was second to him, the love steve and her shared came secong place to one kiss. the betrayal stong with spite in her veins, her having to watch him smile at her and bucky like he just told a joke. a joke. she was the joke. a joke for thinking steve rogers could ever move on from his past. thinking that steve rogers was no longer the man out of time, a man who lost his home 70 years ago. she thought she was his home and he was hers. to many memories flashed before steve eyes as he looked at her one last time.

a punch of something he couldnt place... a fleeling he was feeling too strong for someone who was leaving her.

she was in his sight one second next was a world of color he was spinning through. peggy -he had to remind himself why he was doing this, why he left her. why he left his angel his girl, why did he leave her? he couldnt answer that question always working around it. deep down in his heart in his soul she lived there, when he closed his eyes he saw y/n.

when he slow danced he did it to her favorite songs that he showed her. when he looked into peggys eyes he would catch himself wishing they were hers. he told himself no that he did this because he loved peggy but time heals all wounds right? or does it only make them bigger? this void of her touch swallowed him.

it had been so long since the last time he saw her he couldnt hear her voice in his head anymore, he knew if he heard it he would recognize but he could no longer rember the things he swore he would rember for the rest of his life. Steve knew if you put him in a group of millions of people he would always look for her first-and then bucky. funny how without a reminder you forget the most thing you loved.

you. you were his reminder of all the things he loved because he only seemed to love you. peggy was a hard worker, she cooked, she cleaned, loved him, made jokes. she was everything just not you. she cooked good and steve found himslef missing your brunt eggs, she cleaned up and he missed your mess, she was a hard worker but not as hard as you. he misses the things he said he hated about you, he missed you. after two years with peggy and thoughts of you huanting his every waking moment that he spent in the past made him want the future.

peggy sat there laughing at some dumb joke another man told and in that moment steve found himself hating her. hating peggy for making him feel like you were a second in his eyes. hating that she haunted his mind all those years all becuase one kiss.

he left you for one kiss. years of friendship turning into love, years of a love story that was staright out of moive, the realization hit him he missed you, he needed you, he made a mistake! after two years he finally let himself think about you without reminding himself that he "loved" peggy.

he was so focused on what he lost in the past he lost what was in his future. so he pressed that button and a second later he was back on that platform with the sun shing through the tree, you and bucky standing there waiting. he stepped off that platform and ran to you scopping you up kissing and holding you.

the two seconds he was gone to you was nothing but the two years he went without you was hell. "i thought you wanted her" you asked once he stopped kissing you "no! im sorry, im so sorry my sweet girl. i cant live without you. your the love of my life your number one and thers no other numbers" he held you pushed against his chest his left arm holding you head pressing into his neck and the other one wrapped around your waist. "i love you steve" you whispered "i love you too, my pretty girl"

#Spotify #marvel fic #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #steve au #steve rogers x female reader #peggy carter #marvel #steve rogers au

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adulting-sucks · 2 years

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Where there’s a Bucky, there’s an Asshat

Gif from Google

Summary: Things were going great with Asshat, he loved being a brat, he loved taming said brat. But when two old friend last pop up, Steve’s insecurities eat at him. Can he fix the damage he caused?

This is the follow up to Captain Asshat Lives Here. You can read it here!

Steve Rogers x Reader (Nickname Brat), Bucky x Doc, Clint, Sam, Thor, Loki, Tony, and Wizard the Goat!

Word Count: Over 10k, sorry!

Warnings: 18+only, minors this is not for you. Thor and Loki need their own warning, Bucky and Doc, Asshat being mean, Smut, angst, Steve lives up to Asshat, Bucky does too

AN: this is my Avengers AU where I make up their lives as a I go. Thank you the amazing, gorgeous, talented @peyton-warren for helping me make this chapter happen. You are so amazing and a wonderful friend! All mistakes are mine and mine alone

The room filled quickly, the team making room for everyone who needed orders for the next mission. You walked in, balancing three trays of coffee, a different drink for each person on the team. Frozen, vanilla, plain, cream, no coffee, whip cream, any and everything you could think to add to coffee was in one of these trays.

You received splattered thank you’s from most of the team, grateful for some sort of caffeine for the meeting held at the Devil’s hour. You handed Steve his black, plain coffee-big surprise there-expecting a thank you at minimum. What you didn’t expect was to be treated as if you were an annoyance, pushed aside without a word uttered. “You’re welcome,” you whispered as you dropped into your seat, your face heated from embarrassment. You glanced over at Doc who mouthed I’m sorry. You shrugged your shoulders in resignation, Steve not having been in the best mood at all lately.

While Asshat tended to be short with everyone, you were the only one who ever talked back. Asshat loved when you were a brat, his brat, because there was nothing he loved more than taming you. In fact, due to fighting and flat out fucking, Tony had to soundproof your entire floor and both of your apartments.

While you loved him, you weren’t ready to fully hand over your space. Asshat was okay with it, for the most part, but he had been pushing more for moving in together. You just weren’t fully there, and you had a feeling this was part of the reason for the return of Captain Asshat.

If you were being completely honest, you loved being his brat and you thrived on being tamed. After everything in your history, Steve was the only man you had ever given control to, and while you absolutely loved it, you were also terrified by it. You two pushed and pulled against each other, but at the end of the day, there was no mistaking the love you shared.

You couldn’t help feeling he could do better, find someone who wasn’t so damaged, someone who would be ready to take the next step without hesitation. His return to Captain Asshat only helped to solidify your anxiety; you weren’t honestly sure how much longer the two of you would be together if something didn’t give.

You laughed as you watched Doc punch Bucky’s arm, then whisper at him to get his best friend under control. Bucky looked over at you, trying to be angry, but losing the battle once he was slapped upside the head Dinozzo style.

He rubbed the back off his head, and moved to sit next to his best friend. To say Steve was stressed was an understatement. Bucky wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he knew if you two didn’t figure it out, he was going to be moving in with Wizard, the goat. Having his girl as your best friend was making his life miserable. He loved Steve, he adored you, but every time something happened between the two of you, Doc punished him as well. He’d only just been allowed back into their bed, for fuck sake.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Steve said as he ran his hand over his face in obvious frustration. He didn’t want to talk about his issues ever, but especially not here around everyone. He glanced around the room, stopping to watch you, your focus on your phone.

He didn’t understand why he was so tense, he knew your background, knew everything you had been through, but you not wanting to take the next step made him feel insecure. He felt he was little Stevie again, the one who didn’t get the girl, the one who was always sick, the one who was always fighting.

Steve looked over at you again, his jealousy spiking as he watched you, Sam, and Clint laugh at a video on your phone. He couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed like that with him, not that he could blame you. He knew he was being an ass, and yet he couldn’t stop the train from crashing.

You looked over at Steve, your laugh dying down and your smile fading as you saw the look on his face. Was this Asshat seriously jealous of your friendships? You rolled your eyes, sighing loudly and with exaggerated annoyance just to make sure the Ass got the point.

Steve stood, starting to make his way towards you, stopped in his tracks as the door flew open, hitting him in the nose. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he yelled, blood pouring from his nose. Doc stood, rushing to his side, grabbing his nose and resetting it before he had a chance to say anything else. “Fuck, Doc! Warn me next time!”

“You don’t deserve a warning, not after this morning,” Doc replied, grabbing an ice pack from the first aid kit, breaking it open and placing it not so nicely on the super soldier’s nose. She smirked as he yelped again, making sure to walk past you on her way back to her seat. You held out your fist, bumping Doc’s in thanks as she walked past.

You felt badly, of course, but you also felt like the dick deserved it. Just as you were going to check on him, a familiar voice invaded the room.

“Your savior is here!” he said, followed by a flourish of green fabric and black hair as he entered the room. “My apologies to the soldier who I seem to have harmed, unintentionally of course.” You paused, turning at the sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in a few years.

“No fucking way. Loki?!” you exclaimed as you ran to the man and jumped into his arms. Loki lifted you off the ground, returning your hug with enthusiasm and his trademark chuckle.

“Hello, my cranky friend. It has been a long time!” He placed you on the ground, pulling back to take a look at you. He returned your smile, stopping to move a piece of hair out of your eyes that had fallen in all of the excitement. His cheeks flushed with happiness, a smile lighting up his entire face.

“What are you doing here? Is Thor here too?” you asked, your excitement bubbling over into babbling between you and your old friend. As you talked animatedly, the other brother walked in, grabbing you from behind, giving you a big bear hug.

“It’s my favorite superhuman! How are you, Cranky Spanky?” Thor said, spinning you around and around, your laughter ringing through the room. The blond god finally set you down, twirling you around to look at him.

“Thoralicious!” you yelled. Your excitement at seeing your old friends was palpable, but so was the anger rolling off your supersoldier. Thor didn’t notice, his jovial self never thinking someone would ever dislike him. Loki, on the other hand, noticed the soldier’s change in demeanor immediately, choosing to aggravate the man even more with his mischief.

“Ahh yes, Cranky Spanky. So, what has happened since we last met? I have heard quite a few tales of a very stubborn, beautiful, and spectacularly angry woman floating through the halls of Asgard.”

You smiled fondly, remembering your time with your two friends. “We did share some good fights, some good food, and even better Asgardian Ale, didn’t we?” you asked, laughing when Loki and Thor mentioned a memory here or there during the conversation.

“Who the fuck are these assholes?” you heard Bucky whisper to Steve, also loud enough for your super hearing, but not loud enough for the others in the room to hear. You plastered a smile on your face, turning around to introduce your friends to your team.

“How rude of me, I’m such an asshole for not making introductions,” you said, stopping to glare at Steve and Bucky, who didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Bucky was wildly protective over Steve, just as Doc was over you, which you planned to use to your advantage. You shot a smirk in her direction, her only warning that you were about to cause a fight.

“Let’s start with Doc.” You guided the men towards your friend, completely ignoring Bucky and Steve, stopping in front of the other woman. “Loki, Thor, this is Doc. She is the team’s physician, and my very best friend here.”

“Cranky, why have you never mentioned how stunning your friends are?” Thor said, grabbing Doc’s hand and bringing it to his lips. Doc giggled, her cheeks flushing a little at the smile the golden haired man threw her way.

“Hi, hello, hi. I’m Doc.” she replied, still giggling, moving her attention to Loki, who also gave a flattering remark, a kiss on the hand, adding in a wink. Doc looked back at you, silently asking how far you wanted to take this. You quirked your right eyebrow and smirked at your friend, silently allowing her to go as far as she wanted.

“It’s very nice to meet you both. Cranky Spanky doesn’t talk about her time before here much. How did you all meet?” Thor and Loki both laughed, very charmed by Doc, but also playing up the flirtation knowing how upset the other super soldiers were getting.

Bucky glared at Loki who was still holding Doc’s hand, smiling, Loki continuing to compliment the woman, low enough to only be heard by Doc and the other super soldiers in the room. Loki knew that neither you nor Doc were single, but being the god of mischief, he needed to stir the pot just a little.

“We met her just as she was escaping from the Hydra base that had made her the strong beauty she is today,” Thor explained, throwing a wink your way. Thor and Loki explained how you tried to fight them off while you were so close to death, and the very colorful vocabulary you taught them, causing Cranky to be born in that moment.

“Now, as for the other part of the name-” Loki looked over at you to gauge your reaction and how far he was allowed to take it when the door slammed open interrupting the conversation. All heads turned towards the newcomer as all talk stilled while Fury walked towards the front of the room to get this meeting started.

Loki and Thor moved to stand towards the back of the room, giving Fury the floor. You glanced over at Steve only to find him glaring at Loki while whispering with Bucky, His eyes finally drifted to you, and you gave him a small smile hoping to ease some tension. He dropped his gaze immediately, leaning over again to say something to Bucky who turned his attention over to you, making it very obvious you were the topic of discussion.

Pain and confusion flashed over your face as you slumped down in your chair, feeling the tears start to fall. You weren’t sure what the hell was actually happening, or which was worse: Steve choosing to confide in Bucky or continue telling you everything was fine when it obviously was not. You tried to wipe away the tears before anyone noticed, never really one to show emotions.

Doc turned when she heard you sniffle, her heart breaking a little. She thought that everything was finally right in the world when Steve brought you back to the compound, his attraction obvious to everyone but you. You had managed to break past Steve’s walls and insecurities and he did the same for you, and you two were so in love, had healed each other so much. This tension didn’t make any sense.

Doc mulled over everything as she grabbed another ice pack and broke it open to initiate the cold reaction, turning to the ass of a super soldier and not so gently replacing the one he was no longer using.

“Ow, Jesus Doc, what the hell are you doing?” Steve asked, the pain in his nose returning, Even with the serum speeding up his healing, it didn’t work miracles, his nose still broken and tender. Doc turned to Bucky and punched her super soldier in the arm before walking off to check on you as an unexpected “HEY!” followed behind her.

She sat down in the chair next to you, looping her arm through yours as you dropped your head on her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, knowing this isn’t something you would want to discuss here, instead offering all of the silent comfort you had grown to appreciate.

The meeting finished without further incident, everyone clear on their roles and assignments. The mission would be in a few weeks, giving you and the rest of the team plenty of time to research and get to know the two gods they were helping.

You stood and made your way out of the meeting room, Doc having already left due to an emergency in her med bay. You were trying to sneak out, not willing to see or speak to Steve at that moment. He made you cry, something he had always promised never to do, but just like most people you’d met, he lied.

You had made it out of the room and almost to the elevator when you heard Steve call your name. You didn’t stop, didn’t look back, didn’t even acknowledge you had heard him, even though he knew you had.

You walked faster, slipping into one of the elevators just as the door was closing. You turned around and looked back, your eyes meeting Steve’s, tears running down your cheeks. You wiped your tears away, looking away as the door closed.

Steve ran his hand through his hair then down his face, frustrated and angry at himself. He had made you cry, breaking the one promise you had ever asked of him. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he did know one thing: if he didn’t fix this, he was going to lose you, something he refused to think about because you were the love of his life.

He turned to take the stairs, heading home to think about his issues and what he needed to do. He knew you needed time, and he was going to give it to you. He was going to show you how much you really meant to him and how sorry he was for being Asshat once again.

————————————————————

Later that day, you’d decided you needed to get out of your room for a little while, the walls starting to suffocate you. You were just gathering up your keys and wallet when you heard a knock at your door. You rolled your eyes, expecting Steve or Bucky to be on the other side, however you were pleasantly surprised to see your two old friends.

“Cranky! Loki and I were wondering if you would do us the honor of showing us around the tower,” Thor said, wrapping you in a large bear hug. You felt the tension leave your body, finding comfort in your old, familiar friends.

“It would be my pleasure,” you replied, turning to shut your door, linking one arm through Loki’s and the other through Thor’s. You laughed as Loki and Thor bickered, happy to have something distracting you from your own thoughts.

As the three of you headed towards the elevator, the doors opened, Clint and Sam getting off on your floor.

“Hey, just the person we were coming to see!” Clint said, shaking hands with Loki and Thor as Sam gave you a hug.

“What’s going on you two? I was just about to show Loki and Thor around the tower,” you replied as you also gave Clint a hug while Sam greeted Loki and Thor. You pressed the down button as they revealed their surprise.

“Spurs are coming, playing the Knicks at Madison Square. You and Doc in?” Sam asked, pulling the tickets out. “Courtside, behind the Spurs bench…” Sam continued, knowing this battle was already won. “We can get two extra tickets for Loki and Thor too.”

“A rousing game of the balls of baskets sounds like a great experience,” Thor said, clapping Sam on the back so hard he fell forward into Clint. “Loki and I would be honored to participate with our new friends!” Thor and Loki changed their outfits with their magic, Loki a little less enthusiastic about this than Thor, but still willing to go.

“Alright, alright. Let me grab Doc. You know she would kill me if I didn’t take her. Plus, Clint and Sam can’t talk shit the way she does!” you exclaimed as you ran away from Clint and Sam before they could reach you. It took them a minute to process what you just said, and you heard them both yell after you as your laughter rang through the air.

You took the stairs down to the medical wing, excited to get out of the tower and away from the drama. You were also excited to watch your favorite team against Doc’s favorite, knowing your best friend also needed a night away as much as you did.

“Doc!” you yelled as you walked into the room, the automatic doors swooshing closed behind you. You looked around, not seeing her anywhere. You turned at the sound of footsteps, on alert as no one but Doc should be in here.

“She isn’t here,” Bucky responded, his hands held up in front of him as you turned to face him. You took one look and turned to walk away, not wanting anything to do with Bucky, or Steve for that matter. Bucky called after you, asking you to wait.

You turned,your arms crossed in front of your body, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You knew Bucky would never hurt you, but it was a habit you still hadn’t been able to break.

“What, Bucky?” you asked.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Steve-” Bucky started. You put your hand up, stopping the conversation.

“You’re right. You want to know the sad part though, Bucky?” you replied, your hands clenched into fists at your side, your face heating as your temper rose. “The sad part is you, as his best friend, know more about the issues Steve and I have in OUR relationship, than I do, as his fucking girlfriend.”

“Hey, I-” Bucky started again. You turned, heading towards the door before he saw the tears start falling. You walked out without another word, leaving Bucky with his mouth hanging open. You’d never fought with him before, in all of the years you had known each other, and he wasn’t sure what to do. All he knew was this needed to be fixed.

You took a deep breath, texting everyone, including Doc, to meet you at the front door of the tower as you made your way there from the med bay, taking time to calm down and get your tears under control before anyone saw. The last thing you wanted to do was answer any questions about your relationship.

You found Sam, Clint, Thor, and Loki already down by the door when you arrived, your phone in hand texting with Doc. You had asked her to meet you at the front also, however you hadn’t told her why, wanting to see the surprise on her face when you did.

As you were all talking, you happened to see Doc coming around the corner. Your eyes met and you headed towards her. Immediately she started apologizing for Bucky’s need to insert himself into your relationship. She also advised Bucky would now be on the couch until he learned to mind his own business.

You smiled, always grateful for Doc’s friendship and protection, even if it meant Bucky was in trouble. You knew it was petty, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t have many people on your side, and Doc had been protective over you since you arrived.

“Come on, let’s go,” you said, grabbing Doc, finally letting her in on the plans for the night. Doc squealed excitedly, immediately talking shit about the Knicks beating the Spurs. You laughed, everyone’s conversations overlapping once you and Doc had met up with the rest of the group, the sound fading as you all walked out.

————————————————————

Steve had spent the last few hours in the gym trying to work through this anger and jealousy coursing through him, unsure of how to make things right with you while feeling like this. He knows you wouldn’t cheat, knows you would never do anything to hurt him, but he still can’t help feeling insecure, all of his old worries and fears creeping back in.

Deciding he’d damaged enough punching bags, seven total counting the one he’d just launched across the room, Steve headed towards the community kitchen just as your group was getting back from the game. He stopped in the room as Thor and Loki rounded the corner with Sam and Clint, you and Doc having gone to change.

“Captain! Nice to see you again!” Thor bellowed, clapping the soldier on the back, his silver and black Spurs foam finger smacking Steve in the face. “This game, the balls of baskets, is so entertaining! Oh, Sam! May I please see the keeper of the images?” Thor bellowed, asking for Sam’s phone.

“Look at this, Captain. I was introduced to, what was it again?” Thor said as Sam walked over to show Steve the pictures from the game. “Ah, yes! That was it! I was able to learn about the Kiss Cam tonight!” Thor passed Sam’s phone over to Steve, a picture of the blond god kissing you on the cheek, the next picture of Loki kissing Doc on the cheek.

Sam, who saw Steve’s jaw tighten and fists clenched at his sides, grabbed his phone from the blond man, steering him away from the supersoldier who looked as if he wanted to snap the god in two. You had just come down the stairs, Doc behind you, to grab some food when Steve stalked over to you,

“Exactly what the fuck happened tonight?!” Steve yelled, slamming the fridge door shut in front of you, causing you to jump back in surprise.

“Well, hello to you too,” you said, ducking under his arm to put some space between the two of you. Steve’s anger was palpable, and although you knew he would never do anything to hurt you, you still didn’t like what was happening.

“I’ll ask again, what the fuck happened at the game tonight?” Steve yelled, his voice getting louder, his face turning red as his anger grew. He let you step away from him, keeping his fists clenched at his sides.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you yelled back, your own anger starting to spike. You had no idea what was happening, where any of this was coming from. Sam and Clint peeked around the corner, to try and diffuse the situation but you nodded your head no, letting them know not to get involved.

“You let other guys kiss you now?” Steve continued, venom dripping from every word. “We have a fight, and now other guys are allowed to kiss you?” he continued, his face red, veins on the side of his neck visible. “Are you really that desperate for attention, pulling Doc into your stupid problems?”

You felt the blood rushing to your ears, not sure if you were hearing this correctly.“What did you just say to me, and what exactly are you trying to accuse me of?” you screamed back, sick of having to deal with his fucking attitude and issues.

“If I may-” Loki interrupted, trying to calm the situation.

“NO!” you and Steve both yelled at the other god, who held his hands up in defeat and moved to stand behind Doc. Bucky walked in just then, moving to stand beside Doc, with Sam and Clint behind him, the latter two having gone to get Bucky in hopes of calming Steve.

“You’re going to stand there and lie to me? I saw the fucking pictures!” Steve pointed over to Sam, who stepped back, not quite understanding what was going on. “I saw that blond asshole kissing you while the other asshole kissed Doc!”

Bucky stepped over to Steve, his face a mix of rage and confusion as he looked at Doc who looked just as confused as you. Doc moved over to stand beside you, hoping to calm you down. Doc looked over at Steve and Bucky, her anger and embarrassment of this scene growing with each second.

“Go on! Show us the pictures! It’s not like it’s exactly a secret considering it was literally broadcast all over! Go ahead and show everybody what a whore you are!” The minute he'd said it, he knew he’d crossed a line which he may not be able to come back from, but at this moment, he didn’t really care.

Your face fell, tears starting to fall. Never once had Steve spoken like this to you knowing you would never cheat on him. You grabbed your phone and pulled up the pictures from the game, the same ones Sam had taken. “Here, why don’t you take a look through these since you seem to know everything that happened. Go on.” You pushed your phone into his face, making him take a step back, his head turning from you as he retreated to stand by Bucky. “Don’t stop now, look at the fucking pictures!” you responded, your voice growing louder. “No? You called me a whore, but now you don’t want to see the pictures?’

You walked over to Steve and Bucky, your phone in front of you, the pictures on the screen. “See, here’s the Kiss Cam, there’s me and Thor, a kiss on the fucking cheek; Loki and Doc, another kiss on the fucking cheek-is she a whore too? Or is that just reserved for me? Oh! Look at that, Sam and Clint, on the fucking Kiss Cam, a kiss on the fucking cheek.”

You threw your phone at Steve, hitting him in the face as you continued. “It was Thor and Loki’s first time at a game, they were having a good time! I didn’t know that a friendly kiss on the cheek in the middle of a packed arena made me a whore!”

Steve looked at the pictures, realizing just how badly he’d fucked up. The other pictures were of a group of friends enjoying themselves at a game where there was obviously nothing romantic going on.

Bucky stepped forward, reaching for Doc who moved back, shaking her head. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Doc spat, her anger at the entire situation growing. “You really think we’d do something like this? Do you really not trust me, trust her at all?”

“I’m so sorry-” Steve started, taking a step towards you.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you fucking prick,” you whispered as you moved towards the elevator. “You called me a whore, a fucking whore, and you can go fuck yourself.”

You turned, walking away, Doc right behind you as the others cleared a path. “Don’t bother coming home tonight,” Doc threw over her shoulder to Bucky. “You can go sleep at Steve’s place since you seem to trust him and think so little of me.”

“FUCK!” Steve yelled, launching your phone against the nearest wall. He turned around, all eyes on him, Bucky moving out from behind him. He looked at Steve, an unreadable expression on his face. Steve dropped his hands onto the counter, leaning against it to hold himself up.

“You better fucking fix this, Steve,” Bucky said as he turned to walk out of the room, Sam and Clint leaving close behind. Steve couldn’t look up, couldn’t meet their eyes, shame flooding him all over. He turned to walk out, Loki standing in his way.

“I know she loves you, and I do not understand why,” Loki said, his voice low and lethal. “I also know that you have just shattered any trust she had for you. She can absolutely handle herself and however once she has finished, it will be our turn, if you do not correct this issue and your behavior.”

Steve dropped his head again, knowing full well he deserved everything he had coming to him, and more. Thor walked past, clasping a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing tightly, and whispered about never ending pain before turning around to follow his brother to the elevator, leaving Steve to his demons.

————————————————————

The dull throb in your head finally made you roll over and pry your eyes open. You weren’t sure when you actually fell asleep, and without your phone, you weren’t really sure of the time. You thought you’d heard footsteps outside of your door a little while ago, and possibly a knock, however you couldn’t be bothered to drag yourself out of bed.

As you laid there, the tears once again started to fall, the night rushing back, sobs and hiccups the only sound in your room. When your sobs finally started to slow and your tears had stopped, you dragged yourself out of bed and into a hot shower.

Once you had dressed, donning your favorite leggings and oversized hoodie, you pulled your hair back, took a deep breath, and opened the door, not sure what to expect after everything that had happened. As you took a step out and turned to close the door, you kicked a box that you hadn’t seen in front of you.

You bent down, picking up the box that held the latest model of your missing phone, in your favorite color with a note on top. You opened it up, only two words written on the page in Steve’s familiar script: I’m Sorry.

You let out a deep breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding, your hands shaking. You weren’t really sure what he was sorry for, last night, the phone, all of it, but you weren’t ready to accept any apology. You would, however, take the phone as you actually did need it.

The next few days consisted of you dodging Steve whenever you saw him, hiding behind plants and people to keep him from spotting you. You also had help from your friends, Loki throwing illusions up when Steve would come too close, Doc hiding you in the med bay, Clint and Sam hiding you under furniture when Steve came around.

You’d managed to duck him for the most part, and when that was unavoidable, you refused to look at or talk to Steve. After meetings or training, you made sure to be the first out the door, counting on the others around to be your blockers.

You could see the sorrow in his eyes, and the worry etched into his face, but you couldn’t talk to him, not yet. You knew the moment you were alone with him, the minute you looked into his eyes, you wouldn’t be able to hang onto your anger, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if there was a future for the two of you anymore.

The avoidance came to an end when Fury requested a meeting with you regarding the upcoming mission, removing you from said mission. When you asked why you and not Steve, Fury said he’d based his decision on seniority. You left his office, heading directly to Steve’s room, fuming. You didn’t bother knocking, using your key to enter.

“Where the fuck are you, Asshat?” you yelled, slamming the door behind you. You made your way through the apartment, your anger building as you went, opening all the doors. You opened the bathroom door and walked in on Steve just getting out of the shower, completely nude.

“Uh, hey, hi! I’m glad-” he started before you slapped him across the cheek. “Ow, what the fuck?” he asked, his hand rubbing his cheek, an incredulous look on his face. You’d almost find this hilarious, Captain Asshat’s dick swinging freely with his hand resting on his cheek, if you weren’t so incensed at the moment.

“So, you insult me, you crush my phone, (thank you for the replacement, I love the color), then when I don’t accept your half assed apologies on sticky notes, you have Fury remove me from the mission?” you screamed, your blood pressure rising each second you looked at him. “Do you know how humiliating this is? You didn’t get your way, and now I have pay with my career, you fucking…fucking Asshat!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Steve yelled back, utterly confused as to why the hell you were angry. “I never talked to Fury, and I sure as fuck didn’t ask him to remove you from this mission! I would never do that!” Steve tried pushing past you to get to his towel, however you refused to let him walk away.

“Oh, you expect me to believe I was removed and you had nothing to do with it?” you continued, grabbing his towel and throwing it in the hall and away from Steve. It wasn’t lost on you how fucking delicious Steve looked, naked and flushed. Try as you might, you couldn’t ignore the tingle running down your body, your core growing wet.

“I didn’t have anything to do with this! I would never do anything like this. You should know me better than that,” he said, trying to ignore the scent of your arousal, and trying to hide his own.

You stared at Steve, tears forming as you took a shaky breath.”I thought I did, but you proved me wrong,” you whispered, wiping the tears away. “This was a mistake, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to put in for a transfer. This is the only thing I had, besides you, and now I have nothing.”

You turned to leave. Steve grabbing your arm, turning you to face him. He lifted your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him as he wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. He saw the pain he had caused, and his already broken heart shattered further at the sight.

Before he knew what was happening, you leaned in, kissing him, emotions and hormones bypassing all reason. You kissed him deeply, your anger fueling your passion. Steve was home, he was familiar, and at this moment, familiar is what you wanted and needed.

Steve returned your kiss, his need just as deep as yours, his tongue on your lower lip, begging for entrance. You allowed him in, already drunk off his flavor. You hated how much you missed him, how your body missed him, feeling yourself growing even more wet with your need. You pulled back, panting, needing to catch your breath, and maybe even try to have a rational thought.

“Fuck it,” you said as you removed your clothes, letting them fall at your feet. You looked at Steve, panting and naked in front of you, his eyes clouded over with his own need.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, waiting for your permission before he did anything, not wanting to hurt you even more than he already had, something he would never forgive himself for.

You grabbed his cock, stroking the precum already dripping over the tip, a moan rumbling from deep in Steve’s chest, his hand tightening in your hair.

“I’m sure, Steve. I need you now,” you responded, pulling him closer, still stroking his rock hard dick. He put his hands under your ass, lifting you up, placing your back against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

He entered you in one deep thrust, his balls resting flush against your ass before he pulled out and started fucking you into you deeply. There was nothing sweet and loving right now, just a hard and passionate fuck.

Steve dropped his hand between the two of you, his fingers finding your bundle of nerves, rubbing hard as he grunted in your ear. You moaned as you came, your orgasm washing over you with no warning.

Steve felt you contract and spasm around his cock, his hips starting to stutter as he continued his assault on your clit, rocketing you to a second orgasm before the first had finished. You screamed, his name crossing your lips, over and over. He finally stilled, spilling his cum deep inside you as you came down from your highs together.

Steve leaned in, kissing your face on every surface of skin he could find, both of you needing to just feel the other. He rested his forehead against yours, as he told you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for what happened, how much he needed you.

You heard the honesty in his voice before you felt his tears falling, his breaths short as he sobbed. Your heart started healing in that moment, the open and raw honesty he had shared something he rarely did.

You cooed into his hair, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he slowly started to calm. He lifted his head and looked at you, your hands moving to his cheeks to wipe away his tears.

He whispered again how much he loved you and how sorry he was to have hurt you. “I know,” you replied, kissing him again. He slowly pulled out of you, carefully placing you on your feet, never once breaking the kiss.

You pulled away, feeling your mixed cum dripping down your legs as Steve left to grab you a towel, and also grabbed his clothes on his way back.

“I know you’re sorry,” you began, as you slowly got dressed, taking the extra moment of silence to try and make sense of your own thoughts. “I forgive you, Steve, but I’m scared of this happening again. You didn’t trust me enough to know I would never cheat on you. I love you so fucking much, and I would never throw away the life we’d built.”

Steve sighed deeply, swiping his hand across his face. “I know, and it absolutely wasn’t you I didn’t trust, it was your feelings for me.” Steve sighed deeply before continuing. “When I asked you to move in with me, you froze, just froze then walked away. And then Loki and Thor showed up, and all of a sudden I was back to being Little Sick Stevie. All of those insecurities came rushing back, and I didn’t know what to do or how to handle it.”

You pulled his chin up, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Don’t you get it yet, Asshat? I would love Little Stevie just the same as I love this version of you. Because it’s you. You are the one I love, you are the one I choose, and you are the one who saved me.”

“You still choose me?” he questioned, so quietly, his voice missing all confidence that your heart broke for this man.

“I will always choose you.” Steve kissed you, soft and deep, every unspoken word tied into that moment. When he pulled away, you took a deep breath, then continued.

“I still need time. You go on this mission, and when you come back to me, let’s talk again, see where we go from here.”

Steve nodded, the doubt creeping back into his eyes as he turned to walk you to the door. “I’m not saying it’s over. I’m saying let’s take this time apart to heal ourselves. We have to do that before we can heal this relationship.”

“I understand,” Steve replied softly, bringing your hand to his lips, placing gentle kisses on your knuckles. “I will come find you as soon as we return, I promise.”

“I’ll let you get back to packing, I know your start time got pushed to today. Just…come back to me, Asshat. Promise me you’ll come back.” You stroked his cheek softly, trying to calm your own fears that appeared as you realized he was going without you, that you could not protect him.

“I will ALWAYS come back to you, always.” he replied as he wiped the tears you hadn’t even realized had started falling. He kissed you again, not wanting to let you go, but he has to.

“I love you.” he whispered. You whispered back “I love you,” before you turned and left his apartment, shutting the door softly behind you, sobs wracking your body as you made your way back to your own place, needing to be alone.

————————————————————

Steve had been gone for a few weeks, giving you time to realize just how much you missed him. You spent a lot of time with Doc, helping in the med bay, going out to dinner, hanging out with Wizard. You knew most missions were no communication, but it didn’t ease your fears. Doc and Bucky had made up before he had left, however all of his stuff was still in Wizard’s room, so you and Doc moved him back home.

You also had a lot of time to think about Steve, finally able to come to terms with the fact that you could not be without Asshat, YOUR Asshat. You knew that this was it for you, the minute he stepped off the Quinjet, you were going to tell him you wanted to move in with him. You wanted to keep your own space, hoping it would help to ease your fears, and you hoped Steve would be okay with the stipulation.

It was late, almost two in the morning, when you heard the knock at your door, loud and incessant. You looked at the clock wondering who the hell was waking you up this late. You stood up, throwing on your robe as you made your way to the door.

“I’m coming, Jesus fuck. Someone better be dead or dying,” you said as you opened the door, coming face to face with a panicked Sam. “What the hell is going on?” you asked, your heart feeling like it was going to explode, hoping that your worst fear had not just happened.

“Hey, it’s Steve. He’s hurt; it’s bad, really bad.” Sam responded. You felt your stomach drop, all sound ceasing as you felt your world stop. “We just got him into the Med Bay and Doc is taking care of him.”

“I’m going to change, and then I will meet you there, Sam.” You turned and headed towards your room, throwing on a pair of leggings and one of Steve’s hoodies. You took a deep breath, pushing your fear and worries aside, knowing that at this moment, Steve needed you more.

You walked towards the Med Bay, stopping right before the entrance to take a deep breath and steady your nerves. You had never seen Steve hurt before, but you knew you needed to be strong for him. You took one last breath then made your way through the automatic doors.

There he was, lying in the hospital bed, his face pale. You’d never seen him so still, and you didn’t realize that you’d started walking over to him until you reached his bedside. You heard Doc talking, not really sure if it was to you or around you, but the only thing you could see was Steve, grabbing his hand between yours as you begged him to be okay. You barely registered the tears falling down your face as Doc tried to move you away from his bedside so she could take care of Steve.

“Come on, you need to let Doc work,” Bucky said, removing your hands from Steve’s so he could shift you away from his bed. You fought against him, your panic rising to the surface. Bucky still held you tightly, whispering to you to keep you calm. He reassured you Steve was in the best hands, Doc would take care of him.

You finally allowed Bucky to pull you away, knowing your best friend would do everything she could to save Steve. You trusted her with your life, and now, you trusted her with the most important thing to you.

As you and Bucky sat in the common room, you tried to think of anything else, but you mind kept going back to Steve. Bucky tried to distract you the best he could, knowing how this was tearing you apart because of how it was killing him. He had faith Doc could save Steve, but he had never seen him hurt this badly before.

“How did this happen?” you asked, your voice small and frightened, afraid of the answer. You blamed yourself, you should have talked to him and made things right before he had left, made sure he knew how much you loved him and how you were ready to take the next step. If Steve died, you would never forgive yourself.

“We got separated during the raid on the Hydra base. They isolated Steve from the rest of us,” Bucky said. “We couldn’t find him, they had dragged him down a secret pathway we hadn’t seen during reconnaissance. We couldn’t find him, and by the time we got past everyone, he was unconscious. We looked, I looked, and couldn’t find him,” Bucky sobbed as he recounted the mission.

You hugged Bucky, pulling him close, whispering this wasn’t his fault, he had done everything he could, that this was no one’s fault but your own. He was distracted, he had to have been for Hydra to get the drop on him. And that distraction was you. You and Bucky cried, seeking comfort in the other, standing only when Doc entered the room.

“How is he?” you asked, immediately. She said that he was finally stable, but he had lost a lot of blood. Hydra had given him a drug that slowed his healing time, returning his body functions to preserum status. She had sent samples to Bruce and Tony, to see if they could identify what this drug was, and also states she didn’t know if it would be permanent.

“You can see him, but only one can stay with him for any extended amount of time,” Doc cautioned, solely for your benefit as she knew you wouldn’t leave his side. You and Bucky went to see Steve immediately, both needing to see with your own eyes that he was indeed still breathing.

The three of you turned and headed towards the med bay doors, Bucky and Doc in front of you. They opened the doors and walked in, Doc rubbing his back comfortingly and whispering softly to her soldier. She and Bucky had talked a little before he’d left, but were going to figure everything out when he returned, and you felt a small stab of jealousy watching them.

You stopped at the door, needing a minute to breathe before you saw Steve, your nerves on fire. You got lost in your fears: what if Steve died, or didn’t know who you were, what if he realized he’d made a mistake being with you, or that he never really loved you. You started to hyperventilate, every fear and insecurity you had steamrolling you all at once as you slid down the wall, reaching the floor, your head resting in your hands.

You felt Bucky beside you, not saying a word as he sat down, placing his arm around your shoulder. You started crying, your body overwhelmed with every emotion hitting you all at once. You allowed Bucky to pull you into his embrace, your tears running from your face onto his shirt. No words said nor shared, both of you knowing this was something that could never be described in any language.

As your sobs slowed and tears dried, you gave Bucky a hug, softly reassuring him that you were okay, took a deep and shaky breath as you stood up. With a soft smile at your friend, you made your way through the door and to Steve’s side. You had never seen him look so frail, always assuming he would never have to face anything life threatening due to the serum.

You sat at the chair placed next to his bed, so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t see nor hear Doc and Bucky leave. Grabbing his hand, you noticed all of the IV lines running medication and fluid through his veins, helping to keep him stable.

You dropped your head onto his hand, silently making promises with him if he would just wake up. You wouldn’t nag him, you wouldn’t call him Asshat again, (although him putting you through this made him the biggest Asshat to date), you would put your clothes away instead of leaving them in the dryer, you would not yell and threaten him when he would wake you up in the morning, all of this if he would just come back to you.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, only waking up when Doc came in to check on Steve and adjust his orders and dosages of medications and fluids. Bucky came in with a cup of coffee, ordering you to go shower while he sat with Steve until you returned.

You didn’t want to leave at all, but you also couldn’t stand how you smelled, ripe being nice at this point. The shower almost made you feel human again as you dressed and headed back to the lab. Bucky and Doc knew it would be pointless to argue with you, so they helped in little ways.

This was the routine for the next few days, along with multiple blood draws to determine exactly what Hydra had done and to track Steve’s body functions as time progressed. On day five of this nightmare, Doc ran into the med bay with a smile on her face while yelling your name excitedly. You were changing the water in the vase next to Steve’s bed, filled with flowers the team had sent yesterday.

“Bruce and Tony need you in the lab! They have good news!” Doc yelled as she ran over to you, hugging you and almost causing you to drop the flowers. You yelped in surprise, Doc almost knocking you over.

“Slow down, Doc. what are you talking about?” you asked, as you gently pushed her back and set the flowers down. You turned to Steve, noticing he wasn’t as pale today as you pushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead.

“Bruce and Tony have been studying Steve’s blood over the last few days, and this morning they noticed a change with his most recent sample. The toxin or whatever they used-” You turned and ran out of the med bay, making your way to the lab before Doc could finish, your friend gumbling a you’re welcome as she went back to focusing on Steve.

“Tony! Banner! Doc said you have some good news!” you yelled as you ran into the lab at full speed. You stopped as you waited for them to answer, your face hopeful and yet scared all at once. You listened as the men explained their findings. You asked for them to break it down to human terms in which you were told the drug was only temporary, and all findings as of this morning showed Steve’s blood to no longer carry any of the toxin with all serum characteristics once again in place.

You ran back to the Med Bay, your heart hopeful for the first time in days. As you reached the doors, you stopped again to catch your breath. Once steadied, you walked into the room, your heart clenching in disappointment when you didn’t find Steve conscious. You dropped in the chair next to the bed, grabbing Steve’s hand again, unable to keep your tears away.

“What’s the matter, Brat?” you heard Steve ask, squeezing your hand. Your head shot up, locking eyes with the most beautiful set of blues you’d ever seen and loved.

“Steve? Are you really back?” you asked, fearful of this being a dream or hallucination. Your heart racing, you kissed your Asshat, long and deep, feeling his chuckle rumble

deep in his chest.

“Easy, Brat, I’m injured,” he teased, his smile lighting his face, pure adoration in his eyes. “If I’d have known all I had to do was get injured to get you to stop calling me Asshat, I would have done this months ago.”

“You heard that?” you replied, a flush creeping up your neck to the tips of your ears. “I mean, I will now only reserve that name for special occasions.” You laughed, a watery sob escaping.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere. You cannot get rid of me that easily. When I said I love you, that I was in this for the long haul, I meant every word.” Steve ran his thumb soothingly along your cheekbone, wiping away your tears.

Steve moved over, motioning you to join him in the bed. You made sure you wouldn’t get in the way of any IVs, however all had been disconnected due to his healing power returning. You laid your head on his bicep, your face close to his as he dropped soft kisses all over.

Steve gently placed his hand under your chin, raising your face to his. He kissed you softly and slowly, almost as if he was afraid of breaking you. You deepened the kiss, allowing him access to your mouth, his tongue playing against yours. You felt the kiss turn passionate, a need to touch and be touched coming over you both.

You pulled away, needing to make sure Steve was really okay, that this wouldn’t harm him in any way at all. He nodded, knowing what you were afraid of, showing you he was healed and ready for this.

You slowly smiled, moving Steve to his back as you removed his hospital gown, straddling him. You slowly kissed down his neck, over his chest, stopping to play with his nipples along the way. You felt his cock grow hard beneath you, causing a new wave of wetness to soak your panties as you continued to make your way down.

You placed gentle kisses all over his abdomen, licking then biting as you continued moving further down. You made your way down one thigh, biting and kissing down then up the inner thigh, skipping over his rock hard length to tease the other side, biting and kissing down then back up the inner thigh again.

“Please,” you heard Steve say, no louder than a strangled whisper. You stopped your movement, looking up at your soldier.

“Please, what? Did you want something?” you asked, as you rested your hands on his thighs, your head quirked to the side. You loved making him work for his pleasure, loved how strong and in control he allowed you to be. You lightly ran your fingers over his hard length, just a ghost of touch. You watched him shiver, his cock twitching.

“Please suck my dick, need you so much,” he whimpered, his hands moving to wind themselves into your hair. You felt his fingers tighten, allowing him to guide your head down to his cock. You looked him in the eye as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his dick before taking just the tip into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the spongy head, tasting the beads of precum.

You pulled back, licking your lips before you allowed Steve to push you down again, this time allowing his cock to deeper, working to get past your gag reflex. You relaxed your throat, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing through your nose, letting Steve slide deeper down. You allowed Steve to control the pace, his hands holding your head still as you let him fuck your face. You felt your core grow even more wet, loving how Steve needed you. You looked up at him, tears and drool streaming down your face as he continued his assault on your throat.

“Gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice strained and hoarse with need. You continued looking up at him, letting him know you were ready. With one last grunt, you felt his cum hit your mouth as you swallowed every last drop he pumped down your throat. Steve held your head still as he twitched a few times before he allowed you to pull your head back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I have missed your mouth,” he said as he pulled you up, kissing you, tasting himself. You melted into his kiss, his hand moving between you, rubbing your cunt over your clothes. You softly whimpered into his mouth, your wetness starting to leak through and onto his fingers. “You’re so wet, did you miss me?”

You nodded as you started to move your clothed center over his hand, needing all of the friction you could get. You whined as Steve pulled his hand away, flipping you onto your back. He removed your shirt and pants, attacking your breasts immediately. You moaned and whined, his attention on your nipples sending shockwaves straight to your cunt.

You lifted your hips, allowing Steve to remove your leggings and panties, giving him complete access to you. He wasted no time, latching onto your bundle of nerves as he started to finger fuck you. You writhed and moaned, approaching your orgasm faster than ever before.

Steve didn’t slow down at all, working you through your first orgasm, directly into the second. After you came for the third time, you pushed Steve’s mouth away from your over sensitive clit, drifting back to reality. You pulled Steve up, kissing him deeply as you felt him line his cock up with your entrance, slowly pushing inch by agonizing inch in, until he was fully seated in you.

“Please move, Steve,” you begged, trying to move your hips to gain any movement or friction. You felt Steve pull out slowly, slamming back into you, repeating this over and over again as he slowly and deeply fucked you.

“Hey just coming to see-WHOA!” you heard Tony yell as he got a front row seat to Steve’s bare ass. “Can you please try and keep this to your floor?” he yelled, covering his eyes with his hands, turning to walk out, running into the wall just to the side of the door.

“Get the fuck out, Stark, unless you want to watch the finale!” you yelled, feeling your walls flutter as Steve continued to fuck you deep and slow. Your cries rose in volume the closer you got to your orgasm, your pussy starting to tighten over Steve’s cock mercilessly. You fell over the edge, covering Steve in your cum as you felt him release into you. You both held tightly to each other, coming down from your highs together.

“I will move in with you, but I really need to keep my place, just for when I need some space. Can you accept that?” you asked quietly, waiting for Steve to answer, your anxiety growing as Steve didn’t say anything. Your heart slowly started to break so you started to move, trying to get Steve off of you.

He stopped you, a hand softly landing on your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “I can do that, but are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to feel you have to. I will love you and be with you any way that I can, even if you aren’t ready for the next step.” Steve kissed you so tenderly, so softly. You threw your hands around his neck, tears streaming down your face. You returned his kiss, assuring him this was what you wanted.

“Come on, let’s go christen OUR house, pretty girl,” Steve said, wrapping his hospital gown around his waist to hide his ass and dick. You wrapped your legs around him, letting him carry you towards the door.

“Hey! I see someone is feeling better,” you heard Doc say, as Steve carried you out. “You’re also paying to have this room cleaned from top to bottom!” Doc yelled, laughter following you both out as you headed back to your place, finally back where you were meant to be.

Part One: Captain Asshat Lives Here

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espinosaurusrexex · 5 months

Text

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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