#my freshman year of college my best friend and I were both a wreck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

summerofsnowflakes · 2 years

Text

What Just Happened?

Pairing: College!SoccerPlayer!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader and College!SoccerPlayer!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Fed up with having your feelings played with you decide to have some fun with a with your friend Steve.

Warnings: 18+ MDI. There's no actual smut but defo some mature sexual themes the whole way through. Little bit of angst, feelings and some swearing too

A/N: This is my first time writing college Bucky and I certainly didn't set out to make him an athlete too but the story went that way so yeah! I'm excited!!

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics and mood board by me ☺️

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

You knew it was wrong to play with people’s feelings, it was never your intention to hurt anyone. You were left with no choice, you had been an innocent bystander when hurricane Bucky Barnes tore through you and wrecked your heart.

It was hard to put him out of your mind, but you’d be damned if you were just going to sit and pine over him until the day you graduated.

If anyone else had been around that night you probably would have gone for them, but Steve was there, he was cute and down to have a good time with you.

You and he were in identical situations, you were crying into your ice cream tub over Bucky and he was completely hung up on Natasha. You were just two friends messing around, hopelessly trying to forget someone else.

Most of all, you were painfully aware of how stupid it was to fall in love with your roommate and your best friend. It’s not like you had any control over it though.

You and Bucky clicked from the moment you met freshman year. He’d come rushing past you in the library all in a fluster, completely lost, looking for the same seminar room you’d given up on finding minutes before. He threw himself down in the chair beside you, grumbling apologies as he intensely stared at a crumpled map.

Despite the first week nerves bubbling in your stomach, you pushed through and offered him a strawberry Mento and a friendly smile. He was the first person you’d built up the courage to speak to and you were so happy you did.

You sat and spoke for hours, the seminar long forgotten about as you made fast friends. You shared everything with one another, from your big dreams to deepest secrets. It was like you were meant to meet.

You were the founding members of your friend group, you’d both brought everyone together piece by piece until the puzzle was complete. You’d created a family away from all of your homes.

You weren’t sure when your feelings changed for Bucky, you always loved him but being in love with him had developed over time. I had crept up on you out of nowhere.

It’d been easier to ignore when you were living with Wanda, but by the end of junior year she moved in with her boyfriend and it seemed that Bucky was the only person on campus with a spare room.

Being thrown into close quarters with him all the time added pressure to your friendship. It brought feelings bubbling up to the surface that you’d pushed down for so long.

Now that you lived together, it was harder to stop the casual flirting; you didn’t go out of your way to touch each other, somehow you just always were. It was all just too easy and the way you both liked it. You’d created the perfect recipe for a disaster.

Despite the constant battle with your feelings, you thought you had everything under control. Until the touching and the flirting crossed over the line.

It started five weeks ago. You began sharing secret drunk kisses, hidden in the dark corners of some sweaty frat house.

It never went further than a steamy kiss, Bucky always stopped it. No matter how good it felt to have your lips on his, to have his arms wrapped around your body, he always stopped it.

I don’t wanna compromise our friendship.

That was his excuse, his reason for stopping. And each time he stopped, you stood there, nodding breathlessly as his cologne flooded your nostrils, sending your fuzzy brain sky high. You understood, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.

Bucky was the perfect guy, but he had serious commitment issues. He never understood how much he was hurting you when he bought some random back on the same nights he made out with you. It was the purest form of torture having to listen to his night time activities through the paper thin walls.

You knew all of them meant nothing and somehow that made it hurt more. It was all fine, that’s what you kept telling yourself, until it wasn’t. Until it became too much, the constant, never ending heartbreak for you, all the while Bucky continued to dangle himself in front of you like the most delicious doughnut in the bakery.

So you snapped.

Steve was already sitting at the usual table in your most beloved bar with an empty whiskey glass and the saddest look in his eyes when you arrived.

A couple of poorly played pool games and an unhealthy amount of alcohol led to you both spilling your secrets all over the sticky tables. Sharing things you’d vowed never to speak out loud.

You don’t remember who suggested what, but within a few hours you were back at your apartment. Your clothes tangled up in dribs and drabs from the front door to your bedroom. You’d left the perfect breadcrumb trail for Bucky to find upon returning home from practice.

You were too wrapped up in Steve to care about Bucky’s feelings, for once you were putting yourself first. Steve knew exactly how to make you writhe underneath him, he had you whimpering his name brokenly loud enough to travel through the walls.

For once you fell asleep satisfied, not miserable, lulled to sleep by Steve’s soft snores.

As you stirred awake, a foreign serenity settled over you with Steve’s strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into him. Blinking your eyes open, you smiled as his lips grazed your length of your neck, reminding you of the night before.

“Morning.” The gravel in his tone, set off a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your tummy. “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too, Steve.” You giggled, he was so warm and playful in the morning, it really took you by surprise.

Steve sat up against the headboard, sleep still dusted over his feature. The sunlight streamed in from the window and illuminated his pale skin. His usually perfectly styled golden hair were now flat and messy.

“What?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

You sheepishly pulled your lip between your teeth and shook your head quickly, “nothing, just admiring a pretty face.” Steve laughed loudly, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Thanks for getting my mind off of everything last night.” He held his hand out to you, lacing your fingers together and pulled you into his lap. “Can I cook you breakfast, as a thank you?” His large hands squeezed your thighs gently.

A smile fought its way onto your lips, your hands resting on top of his. “Only if you make me pancakes.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” He chuckled, pressing his lips to yours softly.

Steve carried you giggling from your bed to the countertop, offering a stern order to stay put while he cooked, followed up with a sweet kiss.

So you sat there on the counter in his oversized training shirt from soccer. Your feet were dangling and your fingers were tapping the side in time with the soft music playing from the radio.

Steve whipped up the fluffiest looking pancakes you’d ever laid eyes on and brewed the perfect pot of coffee. He was a natural in the kitchen, the sight of the food had you salivating.

It was as you watched him cook and ate you delicious breakfast that you pondered over the whole situation. You and Steve had always been close but Bucky remained an unspoken boundary between you. Last night you’d broken that down barrier and it had you questioning why you’d never done it before, because you got on so well.

Everything about the morning was so easy and fun. Under all the smiles though, a pebble of fear settled in your stomach, it was scary how natural it felt with Steve, but that was a crisis for another day.

The sound of Bucky’s door flying open sent a knife piercing through the lightness in the kitchen. The apartment walls trembled nervously as his door collided with the wall. Steve flipped his final pancake and promptly placed it on top of his stack.

Your appetite died almost instantly, but you continued to munch on your maple covered pancakes, even if it was out of fear.

As his footsteps grew louder, so did the blood rushing to your ears. You wanted to sink into the ground, but Bucky was standing in the kitchen well before hell decided to swallow you up.

“Morning Buck!” Steve sang over his shoulder as he finished up with the toppings on his pancakes. He was totally oblivious to the deep blue stare burning a hole in the back of his head.

Bucky’s eyes flickered from Steve to you and back again, he’d seen your clothes on the floor last night but seeing you both in the flesh together felt surreal. You were completely frozen in place, each time his hard stare met your guilty eyes, your heart leaped out of its chest.

A lump formed in your throat as his eyes travelled down your body, taking in the sight of you in his best friend’s jersey. His eyes stopped mid thigh, where the shirt stopped and then he met your eyes once again, a vacant look in his eyes.

While Steve had gobbled down his pancakes at lightning speed, yours remained half eaten on the counter next to you. He grabbed his coffee from the side and took a final swig.

Bucky’s eyes widened in a way you’d never seen before, if he was a cartoon character you were certain they would have fallen out of his head.

“Is that my coffee mug?” He spat venomously.

Steve’s brows furrowed, inspecting the Team’s Best Striker mug, that you’d bought Bucky for his birthday, firmly in his grasp and shrugged. “Uhh…yeah, it was on the draining board this morning. Sorry Buck.” He shot his friend a confused look before putting the empty mug in the sink.

You cast your eyes to the floor, unable to stand the weight of your guilt dragging the mood down in the room, it’d soured the happy start to the morning. Every second that ticked by the tension grew thicker. You felt awful for parading Steve around the apartment in front of Bucky, it was selfish.

Another very awkward beat passed between the three of you until Steve’s phone chimed. The sound was a rude awakening from the self-loathing pit you were spiralling into at a rapid rate.

“Ah shit, gonna be late to practice, I gotta shoot.” Steve announced, grabbing his keys from the counter beside you. “I’ll text you later,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek softly. “You coming Buck?”

“In a minute.” Bucky grunted under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. Steve took the incoherent mumble for what it was and headed towards the door.

“Wait Steve, what about your shirt?” You called out, cringing as the words left your lips. You felt yourself making the whole situation worse, but it was like word vomit.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyways.” He shot you a wink and sprinted out of the room.

You could feel the steam rising from Bucky’s body, you could hear how harshly he was grinding his teeth. He was doing everything in his power not to launch at his best friend and punch him in the throat.

The dust settled into the uncomfortable silence as the door slammed shut. Bucky remained in his place, his cheeks flushed, jaw wound impossibly tight, blue eyes flaming.

“Buck I didn’t know you’d be home, I’m so-” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a nervous jumble, but Bucky held his hand up to stop you.

“Please don’t speak for a second.” He muttered.

“Okay.”

It felt like you sat there for a hundred years as he processed everything, you waited and waited. And yet, everything happened in such a blur, so quickly.

One moment you were metres apart and then he was right in front of you. He slotted himself between your dangling legs, his cold metal hand ran up the length of your thigh, along the curve of your body. Carefully exploring your body over Steve’s t-shirt.

His other hand cupped your cheek and pulled your face towards his, smashing his lips down onto yours. He kissed you with a neediness and passion that shocked you.

Your lips reacted before your brain could stop you, your fingers clawed at his body desperately pulling him closer to you. You matched his need with your own, it was a clash of teeth and tongues.

Bucky’s metal fingertips hooked under your knee, pulling you forwards into him more and wrapped your legs around his torso.

He pulled back and placed kisses all over your face, stopping when his lips hovered over yours once again and breathed you in.

His minty fresh breath attacked your senses, perfectly balancing the sweet and sour scent of the pancakes and coffee lingering on your breath.

You tipped your head upwards, your nose brushing his and reconnected your mouths again. This time it was slower, but you felt the passion he poured into your lips.

His vibranium hand held the back of your neck firmly, keeping you in place. Your fingers tangled through his messy brown locks and tugged gently. A soft moan erupted from his check, it was the most heavenly sound you’d ever heard.

Bucky’s warm hand traced soft patterns along your thighs pushing up the shirt higher and higher until his fingers ghosted over your soaked panties.

You whined into his mouth, your hips bucked into his hand desperate for more from him.

“Bucky, please.” You whimpered into his mouth.

Bucky’s movements stilled, your words awoke him from whatever jealous spell had overcome him. He pulled away from you, his chest heaved steadily as he caught his breath, his lips were swollen, his cheeks tinged pink.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He breathed, before backing out of the room and making a run for the front door.

You sat there for God knows how long replaying the moment over and over in your head, trying to make any sort of sense of it.

You weren’t sure where he’d gone or why he would leave so suddenly, but it didn’t feel like he’d truly left you. You could still taste the minty reminiscence of his toothpaste on your tongue, feel his lips moving against yours, his handprints marked on your body.

Now your head was truly fucked.

Tagging: @delaber @elemenhoepe @theselilwonders @ramp-it-up @nikole-witha-k @mkirk12776 @rivers-rambles21 @turbolisedcomet @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @aquariusbarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x you #college au #Chris Evans #bucky barnes x female reader #Steve Rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #soccer player steve rogers #soccer player bucky barnes #college bucky barnes #college steve rogers #summerofsnowflakesfics #feeling tropeful #april fools

375 notes · View notes

stanurines1mp · 2 years

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader (she/her)

type: angst

an: this is kinda long compared to the last few ones. also, i might be taking a few days break bcoz my school is starting soon and i have like 6 months worth of homework to finish in a week. eheh i fucking hate life. but anyways, i hope u enjoy. also, im fucking obsessed with the idea of calling Eren as "Ren" and Armin as "Min". just me imagining them as my boyfriends- also, inspired by the song I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys.

warnings: angst but not that sad tbh, a little drinking but they're all 21+, um pretty sure that's all. eren and y/n both are super fucking dumb though. let me know if i miss anything :)

~~~

If there was a person that dominated Eren Jaeger's mind at all times, it was you.

You with your beautiful silken hair. You with your sweet, caring voice. You with your bright, joyful eyes. You with your defined button nose. You with your pink, smiling lips.

You, you, you.

The only thing he hated about you was how you were too blind.

Too blind to see the kind of jerks that clouded your mind.

Too blind to see the person you should be with was right in front of you all along.

Too blind to notice how it was Eren who was there every step of the way.

Too blind to notice how Eren was the one who held your body in his while you cried because some jerk just stood you up.

Too blind to notice how Eren was so fucking in love with you, it hurts.

He hated that you were too blind to notice him.

And he hated, just fucking hated, how he didn't hate you at all.

You were easily the best person he had ever met in his entire life. And he remembered the fortunate day so well, he recounted it in the back of his mind every time he saw you.

It was the first day of class, college freshman year. He was in a conversation with one of his friends on the phone. He was talking to Armin, calming the blond who was an absolute wreck about attending his class.

"Relax, you're literally the smartest person I know, Armin. You have nothing to worry about," he spoke calmly into the phone.

"It's not about being smart. What if they don't like me? What if I don't fit in?" The blond's distant voice babbled with anxiety.

"They will like you. And if they don't, then fuck them. Trust me, you'll be fine, if not great," he replied back, slightly amused by Armin's usual antics.

"Okay," Armin replied with a low voice.

"Seriously I don-"

"Oh shit, sorry."

Oh shit, sorry.

Your first words to him were oh shit, sorry. And even with those three, absolutely accidental and instinctive words, you had managed to gain every bit of his attention.

And he had never been more focused on anything in his whole life.

He noticed everything that happened in that one, unfortunately too quick second.

He noticed the feeling of your bare forearm against his. The small hair on your skin prickled his and he swear he thought he felt an electric jolt his entire being.

You were wearing a pink crop top with long blue jeans. Your hair was tied up in a high ponytail, two strands hanging out by the sides of your hair to accompany your curtain bangs.

Your right arm was carrying a white tote bag which he assumed held your essentials for your first day. In your right hand was a gripped phone. Your eyes were indulged in whatever was on your screen that you bumped into him.

But he decided that it was his fault. He decided that you bumped into him not because you weren't looking but because he was standing too close to the corner of the hallway. He decided that you shouldn't be apologizing. Instead, it should be him.

Because how could he, Eren Jaeger, be in the way of someone as sublime as you?

"I'm really sorry," you apologized, turning off your phone and throwing it into your tote bag in one swift movement. "I wasn't looking."

"Eren?" He heard Armin's distant voice from the phone. He had forgotten all about Armin when he was too absorbed by your presence.

"Sorry, Min, I gotta go," Eren's voice trailed, not even listening to anything Armin had to say before he ended the call. "It's fine, really. I was in your way," he chuckled lightly, causing you to smile.

And fuck, if that wasn't the smile of perfection, he didn't know what was.

"No, I really shouldn't have looked at my phone while walking. I'm really sorry," you unknowingly put a hand on his forearm.

Again, the action completely missed your mind. But the same could not be said for Eren.

The whole day, he wondered about you. He wondered what your name was. He wondered what you were majoring in. He wondered if you had a boyfriend, if someone was lucky enough to be touched by your grace.

He had no idea if it was fate or luck or chance or all of it at once, but he was blessed once again when he saw you sitting in a lecture hall. The lecture hall where his class was supposed to be held.

Again, your eyes were indulged deeply by whatever was on the screen of your phone. The lecture hall was mostly empty, with only a few scattered students in their chosen seats. But he didn't care to look at anyone else. Only you.

Because how could anyone ever appear in his sight when you already governed every inch of him?

Your hair was worn in a half up half down kind of style. Again, two strands were loose at your sides to accompany your bangs.

You were wearing a graphic tee shirt of a band he didn't know. Your supposed-to-be exposed body was covered with a knitted cardigan. It was an odd pairing of clothes but it looked so good on you.

The gears in Eren's brain were turning, thinking, wondering. Should he approach you? Surely, you'd remember him even as the guy you accidentally bumped just a few days ago. Right?

He had no idea if you would or not.

Because again, who was he other than some guy who was lucky enough to have been in your line of sight?

But against all odds, Eren approached you. You could feel a figure walking towards where you sat.

At first, you really didn't care. You were too focused on your phone, your inability to socialize overtaking your curiosity. But you had to look to the left when the figure cleared out their throat awkwardly.

"Is this seat taken?"

Your eyes widened slightly, recognizing him as the guy you accidentally stumbled upon the other day. Your cheeks blushed a little at the thought of someone wanting to sit next to you.

You carefully shook your head before returning back to the screen of your phone which showed a picture of some cats because you loved animals so the main pages of your social media mostly showed animals.

You were ready to continue your usual act of avoiding people when the guy spoke to you. You hadn't expected him to but he did.

And part of you was kinda glad because maybe you'd be able to at least make a friend. But another part of you was scared because you had no idea how to talk to strangers.

"So, how long have you been here?"

It was a stupid question. Eren wanted to hit himself for asking you such a stupid question. But he wanted to say something.

He wanted to be able to hear your voice again. And maybe, if the universe was on his side, be your friend.

"Um, not that long. I just like to come earlier. Get ready and whatnot, y'know?" You replied, slightly pursing your lips.

"Yeah, yeah, totally."

His lips were pursed, too. His head nodded awkwardly along with his words. God, he wanted to seriously dig up a hole and crawl into it.

But at least he got to hear your voice again. But that was it. Silence crept up again and your fingers found safety back on the bright screen of your phone.

"My name's Eren," he broke the silence again, this time looking at you.

"Y/N," you smiled, your eyes meeting his green ones. Pretty, you thought.

Jesus fuck, she is gorgeous, he thought.

You were glad that you didn't hide away from him after that introduction. You were glad that you continued to have conversations with him even though your heart was beating apeshit crazy because of your social anxiety.

You were glad that you exchanged your contacts with him. You were glad that you accepted his offer to meet him at the coffee shop on campus.

While you were glad, Eren was just absolutely fucking raptured.

He just couldn't believe someone as wonderful as you actually wanted to spend time with him. He was so sure his heart was going to fucking burst when you said that he was your best friend.

Eren didn't know that he was in love with you.

Even with the way his mind could only think of you, he didn't know. Even with the way his heart fluttered with warmth every time he saw you, he didn't know. Even with the way his whole body heated up at the touch of your skin against his, he didn't know.

He only knew when you were both deep in your late-night conversation.

That specific night, you were supposed to be studying. You had a test next Wednesday. Despite your protests, Eren insisted on staying up with you.

His face brightened the screen of your laptop while your face embellished his monitor. But instead of studying, you were telling him about an interaction you had shared with someone that day.

"He was so fucking sweet," you smiled a dopey one, mind high with simple infatuation.

"Wait, when did you meet this guy?" Eren's voice questioned.

"He's in my English class," you answered casually, occasionally looking over your notes. "And oh my God, Ren, you should have seen the way he was talking about the discussion. Fuck, it was so attractive."

"Uh-huh," he replied blankly.

Eren felt a foul, queasy feeling rising up to his chest. He hated it. And he hated how dreamy you look when talking about some guy. Some other guy that's not him.

"I'm serious, Ren!" You laughed, instantly relaxing him despite the uneasy feeling he felt. "And he asked me out," you sighed dreamily.

"And what'd you say?" His eyes were flashed with hurt but again, you were too blind to notice it.

"Yes, of course! He's literally the hottest person I've ever met," you smiled happily.

Eren tried his best to look happy for you. He was happy that you were happy. But he was upset that you were happy because of someone else. Someone who wasn't him. Someone he wished he was.

But Eren stayed with you. He listened to your exciting retelling of the date you had with that guy. He didn't want to listen to it all. But he did because he wanted to be good for you.

All Eren could focus on when you were so far in your cloud nine was the brightness in your eyes. That specific brightness always came out when you were in a world of your own. And he loved that look on you.

Because it meant that you were happy. And how could he not be happy when you're happy? How could he not be happy if he was one of the lucky ones who were able to witness your godly smile?

That's why he felt so angry that he could rip out the throat of each and every person on Earth (except you), and it still wouldn't be enough outlet for his anger. That's why he felt that way when you knocked on his dorm room on a rainy night.

Your clothes -a crop top and a mini skirt- were soaked with the rain. Your hair was absolutely drenched, your curls no longer visible due to the water washing it straight. Your mascara and eyeliner were running along with your pale complexion in the form of black tears.

He was studying for Calculus, his laptop opened in a call with Armin who was helping him when he heard the strong and loud knocks. His roommate was out that night.

At first, Eren just wanted to ignore whoever the fuck was at the door. But then the knocks got louder, stronger, faster. Eren groaned, uttering a small apology to Armin before excusing himself to the door.

When he opened the door, his tired face was readily formed in a scowl. But immediately, his features softened at the sight of you. Only for a second.

Because then worry took over. Worry for the fact that you were standing in front of his door, each part of you soaked by the rain, tears flowing.

"Y/N," he frowned, lips slightly agape with shock.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know where to go," you cried, guilt echoing the confines of your being.

"it's fucking raining outside," he gently pulled you in, not caring that his floors were messed by the rain you brought in with you.

"Shit, Ren, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. Shit, I'll just go," you rambled upon seeing the face on Eren's screen who you assumed was the best friend he always talked about.

"No no, Y/N, relax. Hold on, okay?" You held your arms gently, head leaned down to level with yours. He turned, quickly grabbing his blanket to wrap around your shivering body. "Hey, let's stop here, I'll text you later. Thanks again, Min," Eren rushed, ending the call before Armin could say another word.

"Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to come here and make a whole mess. I'm so sorry, I just-" you sobbed, head slightly shaking with guilt.

"Relax, relax, slow down," he cooed, tucking away the wet strands of hair that stuck to your face. "Let's get you changed first, hmm?"

"My clothes- I don't-"

"Don't worry about that. Just use mine, okay?"

He smiled a little when you finally responded with a small nod. His hands left your arms, the loss of heat causing your body to shiver even though the blanket was tightly wrapped around you.

You watched as he walked towards his closet, taking out a sweater, a pair of sweats, and a clean, unused towel. He walked back to you, resting the clothes on his table near you.

"I'm gonna wait outside for a sec. You can put your clothes in the hamper. Just call me back when you're done changing, yeah?" His voice was so low, barely above a whisper.

"Okay," you hiccuped, your nose burning with the sniffling cold.

You waited until the door of the room closed. Slowly, you unwrapped the blanket that hugged your body with warmth.

You walked towards the hamper slowly, your bare legs shivering due to the cold. You stripped the wet clothes off your body, putting them in the hamper like Eren told you to.

Then you dried yourself with the warm towel he graciously lent you before you put on his sweats and sweater. The thick fabric of his clothes was so warm, you instantly felt comforted.

You can smell the faint natural scent Eren wore. It was comforting to you.

"You can come in now," you called out.

Eren almost missed the sound of your voice had he not focused on waiting for your signal. Once you gave him the green light to enter, he turned the doorknob, opening the door into his room. His lips curled into a comforting smile while he closed the door before striding towards you.

"Ren, I'm really so-"

"Stop apologizing, Y/N," he sighed with assurance. "Tell me what happened," he ushered you to sit on his bed while he grabbed a watered bottle for you.

"He cheated on me," you hiccuped lightly.

Those four words broke his heart more than you could ever know. Eren thought he could just run out of the door to find that son of a bitch that dared hurt your pretty little heart. His body froze because God, how could someone ever do that to you? To you?

"We were supposed to go out tonight," you explained, feeling the body dip with his weight. "But he forgot that we made plans. So he was out with his other girl," you scoffed with hatred.

"That fucker," Eren clicked his tongue, nostrils flaring with the same amount of hatred you held, if not more. "I'm gonna fucking kill him," he huffed.

You'd never seen Eren so angry.

Eren was always a sweet guy whenever you're around him. You've seen him annoyed, but nothing compared to this anger that steamed out of his facial features.

"I'm so fucking stupid," you laughed humorlessly, falling your back against Eren's warm sheets.

Eren swore he got angrier at your statement. You got cheated on but you're blaming yourself? He wanted to scream at you for saying that.

How could you say that?

How could you say that it's your fault?

How could anything ever be your fault?

"God, I can't believe I fell for his stupid charm," you groaned, crying into your hands.

"I swear to God, Y/N, if you say it's your fault again, I will actually murder him," he seethed, causing you to peek your eyes through the gaps between your fingers. "He fucking cheated on you. How is that your fault?"

"I jus-"

"No, Y/N. It's not your fault," his tone softened.

"You enver think anything is my fault," you replied, an eyebrow quirked up.

Nothing could ever be your fault.

"Doesn't matter. Yhis, him, it's not your fault. He's the stupid one, not you," Eren mumbled, causing you to sigh, wiping away a fallen tear. "You don't have class tomorrow, right?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Stay here," his offer was in such a low voice, you almost missed it. ALmost.

"Eren, I can't," you shook your head, straightening your body. "I already ruined your night. I don't wanna be a burden."

Again, Eren felt his heart break.

How could you say that? You could never ruin his night.

How could you ever be a burden? Not to anyone, not to him.

"You didn't ruin my night," he rolled his eyes but not unkindly. "You are not a burden," he cupped your cheeks in his hands. "You can stay here and you will," he insisted, green eyes straight looking into yours.

"Where will you sleep?" You questioned, the touch of his hand against your face so smooth and sweet and warm.

"Don't worry about me. I can sleep on the chair," he answered casually.

"I don't want you to," you sighed, closing your eyes.

"I don't ca-"

"The bed's big enough for us two," your words hit the edge of his ears like the melody that would erupt from a harp sent from heaven.

"No," he gulped, not wanting you to feel like you have to do that.

"Please," you cried. "Please stay with me."

And so he did.

That night, he could feel every part of you against him. Your back was against his chest, the blanket covering you up until your neck.

His right arm was bent under his head for support while his left arm wrapped around your torso. He could hear your soft little snores, the cutest sounds he'd ever heard from anyone.

He watched with a smile as you fell asleep peacefully in his arms. Occasionally, before and while you slept, his lips touched the top of your head.

Eren knew one thing as he laid beside you in his bed that night.

Eren wanted to protect you.

Protect you from the kind of guys that hurt you.

Protect you from everything bad.

Because he was so in love with you, it hurt him just to see a sad shift in your angelic complexion.

So whenever you both went to a party, Eren would make sure to always keep an eye on you. If he catches sight of a guy trying to flirt with you, he'd interfere.

He can see the way those guys were eyeing your figure but you wouldn't notice. He can see the meaning behind the touches of those guys.

But unfortunately, he couldn't protect you all too well. Because again and again, guys after guys, you'd come to his door just like that one night, eyes watered down by your tears.

"He stood me up!"

"He broke up with me!"

"He's such an asshole."

All those words were said. All by guys you always thought were nice.

"He's so sweet, though."

"I swear he's different, Ren."

"He's not like the other guys."

But 'he' was. No matter who 'he' was, 'he' always ended up hurting you.

Eren thought that your experiences with those shitty guys were because your destination would be him. It was unlikely but that's what he wanted.

But he began to realize that he was wrong.

"Eren, this is my boyfriend," you greeted Eren with a smile.

Your boyfriend sat next to you in the diner booth. Eren slid in the seat across from you, his face a rather bored expression. Hearing that you had a boyfriend didn't really phase him anymore.

Because like he thought, this new guy would just be like the others. He'd find a way to hurt your pretty little heart so you can go to Eren.

Because he wanted to be the one by your side through everything. Because he's in love with you.

Eren tried to be as normal as possible during lunch. Once you all ordered your food and drinks, Eren was forced to look at you and your boyfriend.

That's when it hit him.

He saw the look in your boyfriend's eyes. He saw not the hungry, lustful gaze of men that he often recognized in your exes. Instead, he saw the same, all too familiar look that he sees every day. Except every day, he sees it in the mirror of his room.

He'd see it when he washes his face. He'd see it when he's brushing his teeth. He'd see it when he fixes his hair. Everything a mirror would reflect him, Eren would see that look.

It was the look of love.

Love towards you.

Eren had only seen it on himself.

He didn't expect to see that look on someone else other than him.

But he saw it so fucking clearly in the eyes of your boyfriend.

Eren just watched the view of your boyfriend with an arm around you. Your boyfriend's eyes were a thin slit, caused by the wide smile on his face.

Your boyfriend didn't just look at you like you were a girl to be used, a girl to hurt.

Your boyfriend looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

That was how Eren looked at you.

What hurts more was that Eren could see your eyes reciprocating the same look towards your boyfriend.

Eren never received that look from you.

So while Eren watched the love of his life so happy due to someone else, the same words rang in his head;

I wanna be yours.

#eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren jaeger angst #angst #romance #college au #attack on titan #aot #aot angst #snk #snk angst #shingenki no kyojin #armin arlert #eren yaeger #anime #i wanna be yours #arctic monkeys

313 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

1K notes · View notes

tsunonotarou · 4 years

Text

Being Childhood Friends to Lovers with...

notes — Bro I fucking THIRST for this man he can rip me open

— Also I think I’m gonna start this series called “Being Childhood Friends to Lovers with...” because childhood friends to lovers shit is my kind of shit

— We’re debuting this series with Leona 🥳

BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS WITH...

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— AS A CHILD

He cherishes you a lot even though he might not show it

You’re the first ever person who acknowledges him, first ever person who approached him first and talked to the second son

He thought you were strange at first, because why would you talk to a mere second born when the first is right here with you? So he distances himself and avoided you at first, thinking you have ulterior motives

You got the signs and didn’t pester him after that—which he is glad for—but he find himself secretly looking at you or purposely look for you in the castle whenever you come visit (let’s say you’re a royalty too and your parents’ are good friends)

It was when he saw you sulking and pouting by yourself, he felt bad and maybe, you just wanted to be friends

The servants always prepared your favorite sweets when you come visit but you didn’t want any after realizing that he’s ignoring you

So he took some, went to look for you and threw them at you

“H-Huh?—“ you got startled and quickly looked up, seeing his neutral expression on and looking down on you

“So, your parents bought you that whatever thing you want, and then what?”

The way he remembers your one-sided conversation with him before honestly made you tear up, you didn’t think he was listening

From then on, you were also excited to visit the king’s castle because you get to see him, and you made sure to bring various of things over for him and you to play

There was one time he accidentally overheard some servants of yours “advising” you to stop hanging around with Leona Kingscholar, saying how he isn’t worth your time and shouldn’t be influenced by him

Though he was sure of your loyalty and friendship with him, he still has his doubts, maybe, you secretly dislike him too

He waited for your response, your silence only made him more anxious as time pass by

“...Hey.” He bit the inside of his cheek, awaiting for your answer

“I’m gonna ask my parents to fire you all.”

His eyes were wide as ever, and so were the servants’

“B-But please, Princess/Prince Y/N-“

“I will not tolerate anyone who badmouths my friend, moreover, who do you guys think you are? Telling me who I should be friends with now?”

As much as Leona tries to stop it, his eyes watered, lips quivering at your words

He never told you how he eavesdropped your conversation with those servants, because eventually it’ll lead to how he reacted, and he’s never going to tell you he almost cried

He taught you how to roar once, got super red when he himself haven’t even mastered it yet

Glares at your form rolling on the floor laughing

— AS TEENAGERS

He is two years older than you, so he got enrolled into Night Raven College first, during the times he was at the dorm you were bored to death

One of the main reasons (probably the only reason) why he’d go back home during breaks is because of you, he could care less about the grand welcome back party—which he was sure the servants were forced to put up—and the fake smiles from relatives, but he had to see you

Is always prepared for the uncalled tackle hug from you but somehow you always manage to knock him off balance, causing the two of you to fall down onto the sandy ground

You rambled and rambled, he listened but solely focused on how your features changed, you definitely grew up, got more attractive, too

Oh fuck

He mentally cursed when he finally realizes how his heart is beating in an unusual pace, feeling his cheeks warm up and how he felt like melting right there and then

Buried his feelings deep down because of his insecurities and acted as normal as he could with you after

You have never seen him panicked so much, got so angry and frustrated before, it happened once, when the topic of arranging a marriage for you and his older brother, Farena, was mentioned

He strongly opposes the idea but reminding him that he is only a second son, hence have no say in this matter was enough to shut him down

You tried to go after Leona who stormed to his room but decided you have more important matters at hand, matters that you need to clarify first

Politely declining the marriage and telling how Farena is a good person, but you have eyes for someone else

Everyone in the room (which consisted of both your parents and Farena) knew who you were talking about, and they were shocked, to say the least

You can clearly see the discomfort in yours and his’ parents faces, but you also can clearly see Farena’s secret wink towards you, telling you he approves

You and Farena never had any romantic feelings for each other anyway, and he was always teasing about you and Leona when you two were little

Knocking on Leona’s room softly then creaking it open, you peek your head inside to see him lying on the bed on his side with his back facing you

“Leona.”

“Leona?”

“Leooona.”

“Leeeeeeonaaaaaa.”

“LEONA WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

“FUCK-“

He winces and jolted up after you slapped his arm

Snaps and growls at you, rubbing the spot where you attacked earlier

He was all grumpy and upset until you tell him you rejected the marriage

Stares at you for a good ten seconds before sighing, slowly resting his forehead on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you

You two have had naps together, held hands when you were little but have never been this physically close after you two grew up, you two are the best of friends but there are boundaries as friends, so this was new to you, naturally, your cheeks bursted in all shades of red

“I’m glad...” you can hear him mumble, placing a hand on his soft hair and patting it before give it a stroke, calming him down

— AS STUDENTS IN NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE

You teases him so fucking much about being a dorm leader, like- how??? He’s just so lazy and unmotivated to do anything that you’re impressed

Surprisingly takes very good care of you both as a friend and a senior, it was surprising for the Savanaclaw dorm members to see Leona actually giving fucks about someone, a freshman no less, so they got interested in you very quickly

Which resulted in Leona scaring them away because they’re too close for his liking

He always suggests you to take naps and laze around with him though, so it’s no good since you have to get good grades

You’re the one who’s always dragging him to classes (if you’re lucky to get him to move)

You two never bothered to tell anyone that you’re childhood friends, it didn’t seem to have the need to

So everyone thought you two were dating because of how close you are 💀

Definitely got jealous at how you made new friends

He doesn’t mind if you have new friends, it’s natural, it’s only concerning if you don’t have any

But if you’re spending more time with them than with him? Best know that he’d trap you in his room and never let you go out

This won’t stop until you figure out why he’s like this and promise him he’ll stay as number one in your friendship list

You really shouldn’t be but you’re still laughing at how he’s repeating school years to this day

But you’re also kind of glad that he’s still here with you, it’d be boring if he weren’t

Plus, Leona wouldn’t leave you here alone anyway, there’s too many people he can’t trust and he just generally don’t wanna leave you alone

The confession was surprisingly normal and quick, no stutters or nervous twiddles of fingers from him

He kinda just, got tired of you being so physically close and attached to everyone else that he want to call you his and his only

He’s the type that’d suddenly pin you down on his bed while you’re talking about what you and your other friends did that day

Enjoys the deep blush and lip quiver on you as he finally confesses his feelings for you, leaning down onto your ear and whisper huskily about-

His arms quickly wrapped around his stomach and coughs as your strong kick jerked him back, he ended up kneeling on his bed, hunched over as he groans

He thought he invaded your privacy and made you uncomfortable so he quickly look up to check up on you, afraid of the terrified and disgusted look on your face, but what greeted him was a hot, hot face as you refuse to look him in the eye

He stared, and stared, a small blush slowly coming up to his own cheeks before a pillow was thrown at his face

Seeing you so flustered reminded him of the past few days when he debated with himself whether he should go for it or not, he might seem smug for now, but before this cocky smirk appeared he was a nervous wreck

So the two of you kinda just stayed like that in his room, freezing on your spot with dead silence

“A-At least give me an answer...damn it.” A miracle that he stuttered

He watches as you fiddled with your finger, looking down with mumbles he couldn’t make words out from

“I...I like you too.”

This is so lame, you two are like middle school kids confessing your love for each other and yet, those simple words made his heart flip like crazy

Now that he’s confirmed your answer, prepare for a wild but sweet kiss from him

— AS LOVERS

It was a little bumpy at first, mostly from you though, because you’re just so used to being “just friends” with him that you don’t know how to act as his lover

He didn’t change much, maybe a little bit sweeter and considerate than before but he’s just the old Leona you know, which you’re glad for, you didn’t want him to change

He’s more protective now since you’re finally his, and he made sure to let everyone know that

Doesn’t really have a say on PDA, he’s fine with or without it, but he would definitely shove his tongue into your mouth right on the spot if someone even dare to look at you in the wrong way

Really likes wrapping an arm around your waist and put his whole weight on you because he’s lazy and tired of walking

Will actually fall on you when you’re in the botanical garden so that you couldn’t get up and is forced to take a nap with him

Play with his hair!! He loves it to death, though he might grumble and say he doesn’t, we all know he’s lying

You have to reassure him that he’ll always be your number one, he’s already suffered enough, if you end up leaving him he doesn’t know how to cope with it

Cuddles, cuddles and cuddles 24/7, he will not let you go

He sometimes just stares at you as you talk or do your own thing and think about how lucky he is to have you, it might not seem possible but literal hearts appeared in his eyes

If you ever catch him staring at you and tease him for it he’ll growl and pounce on you, how dare you make fun of your king like that? Prepare for a punishment my friend ;)

#leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #leona twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar twisted wonderland x reader

696 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Best Friends Forever (Fratboy!Peter Parker x Reader)

This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor What’s Old is New Again Challenge! This fic is inspired by #18, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf. – Lana Turner. Hope you all enjoy!

warnings: NON-CON, manipulation, roofie

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: Peter Parker is your best friend. Peter Parker is your only friend. Peter wants to keep it that way.

Peter Parker was your best friend. In fact, Peter Parker was your only friend. The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You grew up together attached at the hip, and therefore, you did everything together.

He was there, watching in awe when you pulled your first loose tooth. You did the same when he pulled his first one weeks later. You helped each other learn how to ride bikes, double dutch, and even attempt to skateboard once. The two of you had broken so many bones together that you had lost count.

You weathered middle school together and the absolute insanity that was high school. You two had been best friends all your life, and it had never been anything more than that, so you both were equally confused when catty high school girls and bored high school guys would constantly accuse the two of you of dating. It was a thought that had never crossed your minds, and it was something you often laughed about.

There were absolutely no secrets between you two, and despite that, you still found yourself completely frozen in shock as you watched Peter slip in through your bedroom window one night during sophomore year. He was covered in bruises, and the oddly familiar red and blue fit he wore had some tears. You had stumbled off of your bed, running to grab him as he struggled to stand.

Realization hit you as he leaned against your wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, and your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“Y-you’re Spider-Man?”

It had come out louder than you had intended, and he was frantic as he covered your mouth, begging you to keep quiet. Neither one of you slept much that night as you demanded answers from him. You remembered feeling upset and betrayed that he had been hiding something so important from you, but even worse, you felt worried.

Your best friend had been put in danger so many times while you had been none the wiser. From then on, you demanded that he pass through your house to change out of his suit before going home. Not only for it to be safe for him to get home, but to put your own heart at ease too. It gave you a sense of comfort to see for yourself that he ended the night in one piece.

It was a tough secret to keep, incredibly trying to keep your thoughts to yourself as you watched his crime fighting be reported day in and day out. It was difficult to keep your worry at bay when he was late sneaking into your bedroom or to keep yourself from crying out when he was especially hurt. You were the only one who knew the truth, and the gravity of it served to further isolate the two of you.

Peter was literally your only friend and had been for as long as you could remember. What did it matter that you had never had any girlfriends, even now during college? Sure, you had always envied that special bond some girls seemed to have with each other. Of course, it bothered you a little that you had never experienced what it was like to have a best friend who could relate to you in every single way, but Peter was plenty. Yeah, there were some things that as a guy, he would never fully be able to empathize with, but his sympathy and well intentions were enough.

Besides, having a guy best friend came with its perks. Peter understood guys way better than you could ever hope to, and he was always more than eager to give you advice. Thanks to him, you could probably call yourself an expert on them, but in the end, it never did any good. You had never had a boyfriend, never even anything remotely close. Sure, it bothered you, a lot, but in the end you were grateful.

Peter saved you from regret more times than you could count. Every guy you had ever vocalized interest in turned out to be absolute garbage. At least, that was what Peter told you, and you trusted him. He was never wrong about these things. Tristan, an upperclassman that you’d had a crush on during your freshman year, had apparently been a racist creep. James from your junior year was a party animal with anger issues. Your first year of college, you’d fallen head over heels for a literature major named Logan, but Peter had to be the bearer of bad news when he informed you that the guy had a girlfriend back home and about three more on campus.

After that, you had just given up completely. You saw no point to any of it when every guy you had ever liked turned out to be awful. In the end, Peter was truly the only one you could trust. You were beyond thankful for him, and the day you could bring a guy around with Peter’s approval was the day you would know you found a good one. Unfortunately, you were starting to think that day would never come. You dreaded the day Peter would finally get a girlfriend, because then you would truly be a lonely wreck.

You found it odd that Peter had been single all this time too. This wasn’t high school anymore. In college, girls liked guys who were smart and who read and knew how to have conversations outside of sports. Add the fact that Peter had grown to be quite attractive and had even joined a fraternity, he was a catch. So it was safe to say you didn’t get it, and told him so one night.

“I’ve just never met the right girl,” he said with a shrug, distracted.

“Oh, come on,” you scoffed in disbelief. “So many great girls have shown interest in you. What about MJ? She was tall and funny and her hair-! God, her hair.”

He snorted, a faint smirk on his lips.

“I just wasn’t into her.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

MJ was practically perfect, and you had never known Peter to be nitpicky. He just shrugged, eyes focused on his laptop as he typed away.

“Peter,” you whined. “This is just sad. One of us has to start dating soon or we’ll just end up staring at each other in our old age.”

“I’ve dated,” he said, offended as his eyes cut up to you.

You rolled your eyes, flicking your pencil at him.

“I mean dating dating, not whatever it is you and your “frat bros” do every weekend. That house has seen more girls than a gynecologist clinic,” you complained.

“You know I’m not like that,” he said, shutting his laptop and setting it aside.

While he was somewhat right, he’d still had his own fair share of fun with some of the girls who went to their parties.

“You may not be as bad as the rest of them, but you can’t fool me, Peter. Remember, there are no secrets between us,” you replied, leaning back into the couch. “When are you going to get a girlfriend?”

He didn’t answer, and you continued.

“I know you want one. You’ve mentioned it several times, and I know dozens of girls that would be thrilled to be given the chance.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you his full attention now.

“I just…haven’t found the right girl,” he lamely repeated.

You opted to leave it alone, skeptically eyeing him before reaching out to turn on the tv. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you, but he fortunately spoke before you had a chance to ask him what was up.

“To be honest…there was a time when I thought…you’d be my girlfriend,” he quietly confessed, almost like he was afraid of your reaction.

You looked at him, shock and disbelief coursing through you. A humorless chuckle left your lips.

“You’re kidding…”

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were completely serious.

“No, I’m not. It was senior year of high school and… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I know we were teased about it for years and the idea was crazy to us, but one day…I realized that you were the person I was closest to in the world…and I wanted to be closer.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe as you listened to this confession. You had never known, and you wondered how you could have missed it. What kind of friend were you?

“It was the only secret I ever kept from you…”

You turned to fully look at him.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, dark eyes studying you.

“I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I just forced myself to let it go. And I did,” he answered.

He was right. You had never felt the same way, and you started to wonder what would have happened if he had confessed his feelings to you. How awkward that could have been… It could have ruined everything.

“Peter…I can’t believe you did that. That must have…sucked,” you whispered.

He chuckled.

“I’m not going to lie. It kind of did, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re special to me, and nothing would have been worth making our friendship weird or just destroying it altogether. It turned out to be nothing more than a crush, anyway. Just…teenage hormones.”

You felt your heart clench, wondering if you would have done the same. It must have been torture for him to swallow his feelings just to keep things comfortable between you two, no matter how fleeting the whole thing was for him.

“Really, it’s no big deal, Y/N. I’m long over it, now,” he waved you off.

You chuckled, moving past the brief shock you’d just experienced.

“I’m glad for that. If you told me you still had feelings for me, I probably would’ve accused you of sabotage all these years.”

“Sabotage,” he scoffed. “Listen, every single guy you’ve been into was downright awful. You literally have the worst taste in men-.”

“I do not!”

“You do, Y/N. Honestly, if it wasn’t for me, who knows what you would have gotten yourself into.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just for that, you’re paying for the takeout, tonight.”

“Botany? That’s crazy! I want to go into agriculture,” you said with a laugh.

The guy before you, Harry, chuckled with you. The two of you were tucked into a quiet corner of the kitchen. The rest of the house was vibrating with a deep bass, the sound of noisy college students filling your ears. Parties weren’t your thing, but frat parties especially were definitely not your thing. Somehow, Peter had finally talked you into attending one of his house’s infamous parties, and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes before you grabbed a drink with as little alcohol as possible and hid in the kitchen.

It was miraculous really that you bumped into an attractive guy who was equally uncomfortable with these things. He was funny and charming, and he wanted to study plants. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but someone else might say it was fate that you two ran into each other. Hell, you ran into each other at Peter’s frat house, so the chances that they knew each other were high. Maybe Peter would have good things to tell you about him.

As if he was summoned by your thoughts, your eyes connected with familiar brown ones as he poked his head into the kitchen.

“Peter!”

You waved him over, and his eyes flitted between you and Harry as he approached you.

“Hey, Parker. I didn’t know you knew Y/N,” Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, Peter and I go way back. He’s my best friend,” you said, pulling Peter over.

Your best friend was being unusually quiet, and you frowned. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes had hardened. Was he okay?

“Y/N was just telling me that she wants to go into agriculture. We’ll probably be taking a lot of classes together in about two years,” Harry threw out.

Peter chuckled at that, but it sounded off, and he turned to look at you.

“I figured you’d be hiding in the kitchen, so I came to find you,” Peter said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

A shudder passed through you at the unfamiliar gesture, but you brushed it off.

“Oh, you know how I am. I’m glad I ran into Harry though! He’s been keeping me company, so you can just go back to the party if you want. Your friends are probably looking for you,” you replied.

Peter had become quite popular since you two started college, and you knew that the demand for his attention was rather high. You often felt bad about dragging him down with you. You weren’t really the social type.

“Yeah, Parker, I can look out for Y/N for you,” Harry offered, a friendly smile on his lips.

You returned it and noticed the way Peter’s jaw ticked, and confusion filled you.

“Actually, I came to find Y/N so that we can go,” Peter bit out.

Your frown deepened, but you didn’t question it as Peter gripped your hand.

“Oh, okay. I guess we’re leaving. See you around, Harry!”

He waved back as Peter pulled you out of the kitchen. His grip was tight on your hand as he weaved through swaying bodies and drunk students. Again, you wondered if he was upset about something. It was Peter, so you hardly ever saw him upset. You breathed in the fresh air when the two of you made it outside, and you took the time to eye him.

“Peter…you alright?”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving before he looked at you with a smile. He looked more like himself and you returned it.

“Yeah, I’m just…not feeling too good,” he answered.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “Are you getting sick?”

He shrugged, hand in his pockets.

“I don’t know. I probably had too much to drink. Mind if I crash at your place?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’re always welcome to sleep over, you know that.”

It was quiet for a while between you two as you walked back to your apartment. His hand was soft on yours, and the way his arm kept brushing against yours brought comfort to you. You were so used to his presence, borderline dependent on it, and just knowing he was beside you was reassuring.

“I love you, Peter, but please don’t invite me to anymore parties,” you suddenly whispered, a hint of mock fear in your voice.

He barked a laugh, and you joined him.

“All of them aren’t that bad, I promise,” he chuckled. “Did you really hate it that much?”

You hummed, releasing a sigh.

“Maybe I didn’t hate it all that much,” you admitted after some time.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as a wistful smile fell over your lips, eyes gazing at the sky.

“So…how do you know Harry?”

His hand tightened around your own just the slightest.

“He’s in another frat,” he answered with a scoff. “He’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks he can get anything he wants by throwing money at it.”

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Somehow, I’m not shocked by that, but… You know what? I don’t care.”

He stopped walking, pulling you to a halt with him, and he stared at you with a frown.

“What? What do you mean?”

You shrugged.

“I like him. We have a lot in common and he’s hilarious and so cute. Maybe… Maybe I’m expecting too much, you know?”

Peter looked even more confused, jaw clenching as his frown deepened.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean… Yes, I’m a huge romantic and I want a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, like I have for years, but… You have always been a girlfriend kind of guy. It’s no secret that you’re open to a serious relationship, and you claim the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you haven’t found the right girl, but… Peter, that’s never stopped you from having fun,” you elaborated.

He didn’t respond, and you sighed.

“I’m just saying that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should stop trying to make a boyfriend out of every guy I’m into and just have fun. Like you!”

He forced a chuckle past his lips.

“That’s…that’s not like you…”

“I know, but… I’m tired of being alone,” you shrugged. “We’re in college, now, and the chances of me finding a boyfriend are pretty low. Let you tell it, a good portion of the guys here are trash, but that only matters if you’re looking for something serious, and I don’t think I want that anymore.”

Peter was uncharacteristically quiet…again, and you tilted your head at him.

“That’s…a big change for you,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “…but I’m really into Harry. You’ll help me, right?”

Your pleading gaze met his dark one, slightly frowning at the way he was looking at you. He pursed his lips.

“Please, Peter? I really like him, and you know him so well.”

He looked away with a small sigh. He briefly closed his eyes before eventually nodding, and you smiled. He looked at you with a grin on his lips, taking your hand again as he continued the trek down the sidewalk.

“Yeah. Leave it to me, Y/N, and I’ll help you get laid in no time,” he relented.

You squealed, reaching up to shake his shoulders as you pushed him along.

“You’re an angel!”

He chuckled.

“What are best friends for?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, that was much better than I was expecting,” Harry relented.

“See! I told you, I am an excellent judge when it comes to these things,” you replied as the two of you walked out of the theatre.

It was the sixth date the two of you had been on in 4 weeks. True to his word, Peter had helped you out, and that next morning after the party, you’d woken up to a text from Harry Osborn himself. A huge grin had spread out over your face, and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

The two of you had been talking nonstop since then about practically any and everything. It turns out that you hadn’t been premature in thinking the two of you had so much in common. It was true! It was almost suspicious how much of the same things you liked, including horror films.

“Listen, the storyline didn’t seem all that original, and when I had watched the trailer, I felt like I’d seen the entire thing in less than 2 minutes,” he defended.

“Okay, okay, that I can understand, but ever since I’d missed out on seeing both Insidious and The Conjuring in theatres because I thought they were going to suck, I vowed to myself ‘never again’.”

“Yikes! Both of those films were great. I just know you still kick yourself over that one,” he laughed.

“It literally haunts me,” you groaned. “I know experiencing both of those in the theatre must have been amazing.”

Harry seemed to find your regret amusing, and he stopped to look at you with a smile on his face.

“Hey, so uh, my frat is throwing a party this weekend. I mean, we do just about every weekend, but I was thinking maybe you could come…as my…date this weekend?”

Your eyes widened a bit, and you felt your face heat up. He seemed nervous to ask you, like he didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and it was wild to you. You really liked Harry, and you thought you had made that more than obvious over the past month. Sure, Peter was right when he said he was a bit of a snob, but it wasn’t overbearingly so to the point that it became a turn off. Crazily enough, you could see Harry being more than just ‘fun’.

“I’d love that,” you honestly replied.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you on the deserted sidewalk.

“Yeah…?”

You nodded, looking up at him as he got closer. Neither one of you said anything as he reached up to gently grip your jaw, leaning in until his lips pressed against yours. You sharply inhaled, closing your eyes as you savored this. His lips were soft, and the way he moved them against yours told you that he was experienced.

That didn’t bother you. Truth be told, you had always wanted to be with someone who knew what they were doing, because honestly, you had no idea. You felt flutters deep in your stomach, and you shuffled closer to him when a cool breeze blew by. He pulled away just a little, opening his eyes to look at you as you did the same.

“Come on. Let me walk you back to your place,” he offered.

You happily gripped his hand as he did just that.

You felt giddy, absolutely on cloud nine as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Maybe you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but a nice and rich frat guy was asking you to be his date to his house’s party. In context, this whole thing was showing a lot of promise. Guys like him normally liked to keep their options open, and him actually claiming you as his date was making somewhat of a statement.

You waved him goodbye as you made your way inside the complex, lips still tingling from the second kiss he’d given you just outside. You were still smiling when you rounded the corner that led to your hall, pausing as your eyes fell on a familiar figure outside of your door.

“Peter, hey!”

He pulled himself to his feet with a small groan, stretching as you fished your keys out of your purse.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for over an hour,” he said, glancing at his watch.

You gave him a sheepish look as you let him go in first.

“Sorry. I went to go see a movie with Harry,” you answered.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “You’re still seeing that guy?”

“That guy,” you scoffed with a small chuckle. “Isn’t he your friend?”

“Yeah, sort of, I guess…”

“You staying over tonight?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

“I really wasn’t planning to, but since I’ve been waiting this long, I don’t want to go back to the house in the dark.”

You hummed, opening your drawer of takeout menus to figure out what you should order.

“So…how are things going with Harry?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that fell over your lips.

“Great actually,” you said, sounding surprised. “He asked me to be his date to the party his frat is throwing this weekend.”

Peter’s eyes were wide as you glanced up at him, dark eyebrows raised as he looked at you.

“Really…”

“Yeah! I don’t know… I wasn’t exactly planning for this to be anything serious, you know? I wanted to experience some light fun for once in my life, but now… I think I can see us actually being something,” you whispered.

Peter didn’t reply right away, only humming in response.

“Are you going to the party?”

He blinked, heaving a sigh before shaking his head.

“Nah. I’m not really a fan of the kind of parties they throw,” he said with a shrug.

“What do you mean?”

He waved you off.

“They can just get pretty wild. They regularly get noise complaints and don’t really monitor how much alcohol people are drinking until it’s too late and there’s throw up everywhere,” he explained with a frown.

“Oh…”

You were a bit disappointed that Peter wasn’t going to be there, but you had to remind yourself to stop being so dependent upon him. The two of you couldn’t stay attached at the hip forever, and at some point, you had to start making a social life for yourself…by yourself.

Friday night came much quicker than expected, and you were all dressed and ready to go. The house wasn’t far from your place, and since it was still daylight, you didn’t mind walking. You’d worn comfortable shoes, so it didn’t bother you.

Even though you would probably be considered an early arriver, the place was already lively when you stepped through the door. Everywhere you turned, you were met with someone’s back or chest, and you struggled to maneuver yourself through the bodies. You didn’t recognize anyone, and almost wished that Peter had come with you, growing nervous until you spotted a familiar head of dark hair.

You approached Harry with a smile, reaching out to grab his arm. His eyes were wide when he turned to face you, and you frowned when he maneuvered his arm out of your grip. Your frown only deepened when he stepped away from you, glancing away, and that was when you noticed the girl at his side.

She hadn’t been paying attention, gaze elsewhere, but she smiled when she finally turned to look at you. She was blonde and beautiful and had perfect teeth, dazzling you as she grinned. Her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around Harry’s arm as she leaned into him.

“Hey! Are you a friend of Harry’s?”

She seemed sweet, and confusion filled you at their familiar body language.

“Babe, this is Y/N. She’s super close with my friend Peter,” Harry answered, barely sparing you a glance.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you eyed them.

“Oh! I’ve yet to meet Peter, but I’ve heard you mention him sometimes. I’m Scarlet, Harry’s girlfriend,” she introduced herself.

If it all possible, you probably would have thrown up, but you hadn’t eaten anything all day, too nervous about tonight.

“Oh, wow! I don’t think Peter ever mentioned Harry having a girlfriend,” you responded, hoping it sounded casual.

You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, but you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Well, I’ve never actually met Peter, and Harry and I only recently go back together…what was it? Two months ago?”

“Two months ago…wow…”

You didn’t know what to say, and you finally understood the full meaning of ‘speechless’ in that moment.

“Yeah, Harry didn’t have any plans this weekend as far as I knew, so I decided to come down and surprise him. You should have seen his face when I showed up on the doorstep an hour ago,” she laughed.

You joined her, feeling like you were going to be sick.

“I’ll let you two catch up. It was nice to meet you!”

“You too,” Scarlet said, waving goodbye as you turned and pushed yourself through the crowd.

There were tears in your eyes, and your body was shaking. Were you on the verge of a panic attack? You stumbled over your own feet as you attempted to make your way to the door. So focused on the baby pink polish on your toes, you didn’t notice the figure before you until your head was colliding with their chest.

You stumbled back, almost falling had it not been for a familiar pair of hands. You looked up in shock, and everything crashed into you as your eyes met Peter’s. His gaze was inquiring, worry coloring his features as he studied you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, letting it fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“What happened?”

“H-Harry has a girlfriend,” you whispered.

You felt him tense against you.

“…what?”

“I mean… I thought… You said he was just some spoiled rick kid. You never mentioned a girlfriend,” you said, looking up at him.

“I didn’t know. Honest. They broke up forever ago,” he replied, pulling you against him.

“Yeah, well apparently, they got back together two months ago. The whole time we’d been talking and going out together he…,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “He treated me like I was practically a stranger.”

Peter’s jaw ticked, and he moved to go past you, but you stopped him. His dark eyes were focused on Harry no doubt, but you pressed your hands into his chest.

“Peter, let it go. Please! Just…stay with me? I don’t think I want to go home…”

The last thing you wanted was to lay in your bed and remind yourself of what a disaster tonight was turning out to be. Peter heaved a sigh, hands tightening on you before reluctantly nodding. He pulled you along towards the door.

“Come on. We can just go to the party at my house,” he offered.

You nodded, leaning against him as he walked you out. You wiped at your cheek, unsure of when a few tears had spilled over. You had fooled yourself into dreaming of more with Harry and look where it got you. Even if you had still only wanted something casual, there was no way you would have knowingly got involved with a guy who had a girlfriend. That wasn’t who you were.

“I thought…I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.

“I wasn’t, but… I didn’t want to leave you at a party where the only person you knew was Harry. I’m glad I did come,” he murmured. “What an ass…”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter. Really. Maybe this is just a sign that I should stop trying to force something with every guy I like. It never turns out well,” you sighed.

Peter’s frat house was just as lively when you guys moseyed inside. A few of his brothers recognized you, and you waved at them. Peter’s arm tightened around your waist, but you didn’t mind it. You knew what other guys at the party would think, but you didn’t care. You were done with guys, and all you wanted was to hang out with Peter, the only guy you had ever been able to trust. So if they mistook you as Peter’s girl, and left you alone because of it, that was fine with you.

The two of you were attached at the hip throughout the night. Peter had gotten both of you drinks, and hours later, you were still nursing that same drink. This was never your crowd, and the more you made your way around the room with Peter, the more obvious it became. He didn’t seem to mind your company though, arm still at home on your waist. You noticed a few disappointed glances being thrown your way, and you chuckled with a frown.

“Peter, I think I’m ruining your chances of getting laid,” you finally said.

He glanced around to see what you meant before he chuckled too.

“It’s fine. You’re my best friend. I’m not just going to ditch you,” he responded.

You smiled but still felt a bit guilty that you had affected his night again. You pulled away from him, letting him know that you were going to be in the kitchen. He understood and promised to join you. To be honest, you wanted him to have fun. You didn’t exactly take pleasure in knowing that he sacrificed his usual routine at parties just for you.

You leaned against the counter, pressing your fingers to your temples as you rubbed circles into your skin. You didn’t know how the night had gone so wrong. How had you been so clueless? No, no! You were not going to do that. It wasn’t your job to watch and hunt for signs of an untruthful man. You weren’t supposed to be suspicious of a guy you were seeing. This whole situation was completely on Harry.

You finished your drink, tossing the red cup into the trash with a sigh. It was amazing that in the span of 3 hours, your life had done a complete 180. You had gone from having the time of your life to being alone and miserable and feeling absolutely foolish.

You heard footsteps make their way into the kitchen. You glanced up, face contorting in a frown as your gaze connected with that of the last person you wanted to see.

“What are you doing here?” you scoffed.

He was holding two drinks, eyes apologetic as he approached you.

“I’m sorry-.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry. There’s nothing that you could say that can fix this.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Scarlet and I… We’ve been having problems for a long time, now, and we both thought getting back together would make them magically go away, but they didn’t. The night we met, Scarlet and I had gotten into a huge fight, and I was under the impression that we were over…for good.”

You eyed him.

“Then she wanted to work things out, but I had already met you, and I really liked you…”

You looked away with a sigh.

“We were never exclusive, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because you have a girlfriend. You had a girlfriend the whole time we were hanging out, and I’m certain that you and she have an agreement that you guys are exclusive,” you harshly replied.

He glanced down, and you chuckled, but it lacked humor.

“You were cheating on her…with me… Never mind the obvious of how she would feel if she found out, but how do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I like being that kind of girl?”

He shook his head.

“No, no, you’re not the type-.”

“Exactly.”

He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“I know I messed up, okay? I just wanted to apologize and bring you this… You said it’s your favorite, the only drink you actually really like, and I thought maybe it could soften the blow of you chewing me out,” he confessed.

You eyed the cup, glaring at him before taking it. You took a sip before sighing.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” you saluted him with it. “…but I don’t see us moving past this Harry. It was fun, but I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. I’m sorry, and I mean it when I say I hope you and Scarlet work things out.”

You brushed past him, taking another sip of the fruity mixture as you went in search of Peter. It was easy to find him, following the sound of his familiar laughter. He didn’t mention anything as he wrapped his arm around you, and you figured that he didn’t know Harry was here yet.

“Hey, I was coming, I swear I was-.”

“Peter, it’s fine! You know I don’t care about you keeping me company or not. I’m a big girl.”

He returned your smile, pulling you closer as his hand tightened on your waist.

You didn’t plan to stay much longer, and about an hour later you decided that you would head out…after you used the bathroom. You found it much more difficult to weave through the sweaty bodies this time, and you blinked as your vision spun for half a second. You stopped to steady yourself, pressing your hand to your head in confusion.

You eventually made it to the bathroom, and you took some time to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked alright, for the most part, but you felt so…off. Your fingers were tingling just the slightest, and the bass in the houses sounded incredibly far away. By the time you were done in the bathroom, you were stumbling out.

You had to hold onto the wall for support, and confusion filled you. You’d only been drunk a handful of times, but this time felt different. Even worse, you had only had two drinks. You dreaded making your way down the stairs, and you had to pause and lean your back on the wall halfway down. You heard someone call your name, and they too sounded so far away. You jerked when a pair of hands landed on your arms.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

You stared at Harry for the longest time, wondering what he was still doing here when it clicked. You frowned at him.

“Did you put something in my drink?”

Your words were slurred, but he understood you nonetheless, and his eyes widened.

“What? No!”

“You did, didn’t you? I…I only had two drinks, and this didn’t start until after-.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t do that! Come on, let me-.”

“No!” you jerked away from him. “Is this your way of getting in my pants, anyway?”

He frantically shook his head, concern and worry and disbelief all rolled into one in his gaze.

“Y/N, you have to believe me! I wouldn’t do this!”

You scoffed, pushing against him, but it was weak.

“Believe you? How could I trust anything you say?”

He blinked, something clicking in his eyes as he looked down the stairs and back to you.

“Y/N, I didn’t get the drink for you. Did Parker not tell you he saw me? He gave me the-.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

You both turned to look just as Peter came up the stairs. You stumbled towards him, fighting off Harry’s hands as Peter wrapped his arms around you.

“He put something in my drink,” you whispered, on the verge of passing out.

“What?” Peter demanded, tightening his hold on you.

“Y/N, listen-!”

“You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Get out of here, Harry, because if I tell my frat brothers you’re drugging girls they aren’t just going to let you walk out of here,” he threatened.

Harry stumbled over his words as Peter helped you back up the stairs.

“Leave,” you heard him snap at the other brunette.

Your fingers dug into his arm as he helped you walk down the hall, arms tightening around you.

“P-Peter…”

“Hey, hey… It’s okay. You can crash in my room, tonight, yeah?”

You’d only been in his room a handful of times, the both of you usually hanging out at his place. It was always clean and always smelled good, and you had thought to yourself before that it was no wonder girls kept coming back. He sat you down on his bed, and you struggled to sit upright.

You heard him fumbling around in his drawers and looked up just in time to see him coming over with a huge t-shirt. You didn’t mind when he helped you out of your clothes, welcoming it during your inebriated state. His fingers grazed your skin as he slid the shirt over you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blinking at him.

He took his thumb to widen your eyes, getting a good look at your pupils. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, and you were grateful for Peter. You didn’t like feeling like this, and you shuddered to think about what would have happened to you had Peter not been here.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He ran his eyes over you before resting them on your fogged-out ones.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said with a small smile. “What are best friends for?”

You struggled to return the smile, and he brushed his hand along the side of your face. Your eyes fell closed at the gentle feel of his ministrations. You were somewhat in shock that Harry would do such a thing. A rapist was a big leap from cheater and liar, and you wondered what drove him to do it. He had a girlfriend, but maybe he was truly that greedy and disgusting?

You forced your eyes open when you felt Peter’s hand on the side of your neck. You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as you watched him lean in.

“Peter-.”

You were cut off when he pressed his lips against your own. Your eyes widened, and you reached up to press your hands into his chest, but you had no strength. His hand slid to grip the hair at the back of your head, tightening his grip as he leaned into you.

You mumbled incoherently into his mouth as he laid you down, his lithe frame immediately settling against yours. His other hand was on your naked thigh, his t-shirt riding up to brush against your underwear. You turned your head, gasping for breath.

“Peter…stop,” you panted. “W-what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer you, opting instead to pull away and reach behind his head to pull his shirt off. You blinked as you were met with the sight of his bare chest. He leaned down again, pressing his lips against yours. He simply swallowed all of your protests, and you turned your head away again.

“Peter!”

“I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for years, now,” he whispered against your cheek.

Your eyes widened, and confusion filled you.

“…what?”

You tried to scoot back on the bed, but he only followed, his frame still caging yours in as you both moved. His eyes were hard as he looked at you, and you felt tears collect as you fought not to cry.

“Harry gets everything, you know. It’s all just so easy for him, but I’d never let him have you,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your neck. “Not after I worked so hard to save you…for myself…”

You pushed against him again, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no. Peter, what…what are you…?”

Nothing was making sense, and your head hurt and your body felt heavy and the room was spinning. Nothing he was saying was making sense.

“Peter, you’re my best friend… This doesn’t make any sense…”

Your head lolled, much too heavy to lift as you heard him fumble with his pants. Panic gripped you, but you could hardly move. You groaned when he pressed himself against you, and you could feel him hard and throbbing between your thighs.

“Peter,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to be the only person who gets to be inside of you. The only one to know what it feels like to have you wrapped around them. God, I’ve always wanted to know what you feel like,” he whispered, kissing you again.

His fingers made their way to your core, rubbing you through your underwear. You reached up to grip his arm, but you were sure that your hold was featherlight. You let like your body weighed a ton, and the smallest of movements took so much out of you.

You whimpered as you felt your underwear grow damp, and Peter wasted no time in pushing them to the side before pushing a finger inside of you. Another soon followed, and you were panting beneath him as he worked his hand in between your legs.

“Please…stop,” you begged. “I’ll scream…”

“Can you?” he wondered, lips brushing against yours.

Tears spilled over at his question. He was right. Could you even scream? You could barely speak.

“Even if you could scream, Y/N… There’s a party going on. Who’s going to hear you? Hmm?”

He was dragging your filthy underwear down your legs, now.

“Peter, please. I’m your best friend… Please, don’t do this to me,” you pleaded.

Peter’s eyes met yours.

“It’s just been us our entire lives. All we ever needed was each other. I want to keep it that way,” he said.

You yelped, pressing your nails into his back as he slid inside of you to the hilt. Your legs were limp around him, a scream caught in your throat. He leaned down to kiss your wet cheeks, shushing you as you struggled to adjust beneath him.

He took his time as he pulled out of you before sliding back in, groaning at the way you clenched around him. You pressed your nails harder into his back, and he hissed before reaching back to grip your wrist, pinning it to the bed. He did the same with the other and kept a steady pace.

You panted beneath him, eyes fluttering closed. Whatever was coursing through your system made it impossible to focus on anything other than the way his hard length felt dragging against your walls. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he thrust into you, never taking his eyes off of you as he watched your face.

His grip tightened on your wrists, and you gasped at the pain.

“Peter…”

“It’s okay. Just enjoy it, Y/N…”

You gasped again as he picked up his pace, forehead dewy with sweat. He buried his face in your neck again, chest pressed against yours as he pinned you to the bed, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “You’re finally mine…”

Something that was a cross between a choked moan and a sob escaped you.

“I want everyone to know it-.”

“No, Peter-!”

“I’m going to fuck you until the sun comes up, so everyone in this house will know you belong to me. You’re my girl, Y/N. You always have been,” he moaned. “…and when you limp out of this house with my marks on you, everyone will know it.”

He came in you with a low moan, and you sobbed into his chest as he rolled over, curling you against him. He ran his fingers down your back, lips brushing your forehead.

“I’ll make you come before the night is over,” he whispered. “I’ll be the only one to ever touch you like this.”

You shook your head, and he rolled you back onto your back, still inside of you. His dark eyes bore into your own, fingers trailing over your trembling body.

“You know exactly what I’m capable of, Y/N… You know the things I can do. I’d hate to have to hurt someone for touching what’s mine.”

tags: @sherrybaby14 @kellyn1604 @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @villanellevi @sebabestianstan101 @harringtonsblackgf

@opheliadawnwalker3 @jtargaryen18 @notyourtypicalrose @readermia

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter #peter parker #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #dark!peter x reader

2K notes · View notes

jean-kayak · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: cursing, a lot of sexual tension lmao

Word Count: 2139

A/N: Alright, here it is! I’ve been working on this for a while now, if you’ve been following my shitposts, and I’ve been really nervous to post it, so I would like to thank @styxtm for reading this chapter and giving me the confidence to post it! Hope you guys like it!

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara, @germfart3, @styxtm, @iwascrybaby

Chapter summary: Someone you’d never thought you’d see again literally walks back into your life

"When are you gonna be done? It's hot as fuck out here," you complain, waving a hand in front of your face, but it doesn't anything to cool you down, instead spreading the humid, sticky air across your face.

You hear Jean groan as you set down the tray of nails you have in your hands on the ground, throwing your hair up in a bun, getting the curls off of your neck. "Stop complaining. It's not even that bad."

"You chose to build a storage unit during one of the hottest days so far in the summer," you respond, and he just chuckles as he blindly holds his hand out. You pick through the different pieces, finding the one he needs before dropping it into his hand.

"My mom wanted it built, and my stepdad's been too busy, so I offered to do it."

"You offered to do it. I just came over here to hang out," you say, sighing heavily as you rest a hand on your hip.

You've been best friends with Jean since you were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood, literally living right next to each other, and when you graduated high school, you both ended up going to different colleges.

You had decided to stay on your college campus for the summer after your freshman, not ready to go back home yet. Now your sophomore year of college is over, and both you and Jean ended up coming back home to do who knows what, but ever since you both have come back, you've either been over his house or vice versa.

Both of your parents always joked about how it seemed like you two were separated at birth, constantly attached at the hip, and sometimes it really does feel like he's a brother to you. He was always there for you when your other friends weren't, and since you were an only child, he saved you multiples from boredom due to not having anyone to spend time with.

"I'm almost done, I just need you to help me hold this last wall." You walk over to where he's standing, resting your back against the wall as he screws in the last few nails. "Okay, I think that's it," he says, and you both walk back as you take in the new building.

You both tilt your head, the building finally seeming to stand upright. "How'd you manage to make it slanted?" you ask, and Jean sighs as he lets his head fall back in annoyance.

"I don't know," he says, looking through the instructions, and you look to your left as you scoff lightly.

"Well, those look like the foundation pieces," you comment, pointing to the plates that the building is supposed to be on top of. "You did good though, I just don't know how long the building will last."

"Whatever, I'm done. It's hot," he sighs and you bristle as you both start walking towards his house.

"Says the one who said it wasn't even that bad," you argue, and he waves you off.

"That's because the clouds were providing shade." You huff lightly at his weak counter.

"Yeah, okay." Your body nearly goes limp as you feel the cool air wrap around your body when you step into the house, Jean sliding the patio door closed, cutting off the stifling heat. You plop down on the loveseat, sinking down into the plush leather as it cools your heated skin.

"Heads up." You open your eyes in time to see Jean throwing you a bottle of water, and you catch it easily, opening it as he sits down on the couch. "What else are you planning on doing this summer?"

You shrug lazily. "I don't know. Party?" you try, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"You want to spend the whole summer partying?"

"There's nothing else to do, and Ymir always finds the best parties." You had been friends with her since high school and by your senior year, you were joining her at a different party almost every other weekend. You wouldn't really say it was the best time of your life, but it definitely gave you a distraction from the current dilemma you were having at the time. "Pretty sure there'll be one soon since everyone's coming back. Unless you have any better ideas."

"I guess I'll go to a few, but I don't--"

The sound of the front door opening and an awfully familiar voice cuts Jean off. "Damn, it feels good in here." The dilemma walks into the living room, stopping when he sees you and Jean. "Oh, shit, what're you doing here?"

"At my house? I could ask you the same thing," Jean shoots back at his brother, and you feel a strong urge to leave, running back to your own house. "I thought you were staying in that city, why are you here, Eren?"

Eren fucking Jaeger. The stubborn dilemma you had to deal with all of your life, but it especially got worse to deal with once you got to high school. Probably the textbook definition of a bad boy, the sleeves of tattoos you can see on his arms and the piercings solidify it.

Oh, and he's also your best friend's older step-brother.

He shrugs. "Dunno. Guess I just wanted to come back, glad I did though." You look away when you see him smirk, knowing that last bit was geared towards you.

You stand up quickly, drinking some water in hopes that it hides your nerves well. "I'm starving. You got any food?" you ask Jean as you walk towards the kitchen, purposefully walking the long way so that you don't have to go anywhere near him.

"I don't know, you can look," he calls after you, and you can feel Eren's eyes on you as you walk, suddenly feeling very naked in your shorts and cropped tank top.

When you're in the safety of the kitchen and you hear the conversation between the siblings start, you sigh heavily as you rest your head against the counter. Of course, it would be just your fucking luck that he would come back.

You groan softly in frustration as you lift your head up and grab an orange, peeling it a little more aggressively than you should as you hop onto the counter. You huff slightly as you put a slice into your mouth. This is a total wreck in your plans.

To anyone else, it wouldn't seem like a big deal, but your history with Eren isn't the greatest. Maybe starting with the fact that you started to have a crush on him which ended up only blossoming once you got to high school. And the worst part was that everyone knew it. You know they did, but it's not like you were discreet about it.

You were just a naive teenager that was stupid enough to fall? Maybe not fall for him, but you definitely were stupid enough to think that he could possibly be into you.

Your inner turmoil is only fueled when he walks into the kitchen, you failing to notice that the conversation had stopped. You look down at your legs, swinging them as you continue to eat the orange, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating awkward tension in the room.

You can see him lean against the counter across from the one your sitting on, crossing his foot over his ankle. When you find yourself staring at his thighs and how tight his shorts are, you quickly look away. "So, how ya been?" he asks, and you find yourself rolling your eyes at his poor attempt to make small talk.

"Good," you answer, not even looking up, patting a simple rhythm on your thigh, his strong gaze on you making you feel some type of way. "College was fun," you add.

You hear him chuckle softly. "Yeah? Looks like it treated you really good."

You feel your face flush warm as you look up, and you hate your body still reacts the same way it did years back. It's your turn to take him in, and you bite your lip hesitantly, noticing that college treated him very well.

He does more than fill out his clothes, they're practically like a second skin the way they stretch out over his body. Your eyes trail over his inked arms, trying to make out everything that you can see. He's grown his hair out, it's longer now, opting for putting his hair up in a high bun, the silver piercings shining in the light when he turns his head slightly. Your eyes catch the simple gold chain around his neck, and you realize that you've been staring for too long.

"So, what are you doing here?" you ask, and you're genuinely asking because according to Jean, he wasn't supposed to be here, and you thought this summer was going to be smooth sailing.

"A little birdie told me that you were here, so..." he trails off with a shrug, and you squint your eyes at him.

"So, you came back just for me?"

"What if I told you I did?" You scoff as you toss the orange peel in the trashcan, putting the last two slices in your mouth.

"I would tell you," you start, finishing the slices. "That you're ridiculous." He hums as he smiles at you, moving away from the counter, standing in front of you.

"So, what's the deal with you and my brother anyway?" he questions suddenly, and you shake your head slowly.

"You mean like if I like him or something?" You scoff. "He's my best friend, and he's into someone else anyway."

He nods, his eyebrows creasing as he thinks. "Oh, yeah. That Mikasa chick, right? She's kinda hot."

"What do you want, Eren?" Now you're getting annoyed, and you hate how you feel that tiny fire of jealousy burning in your chest at his comment. He moves closer to you, and you don't even realize that your legs spread to fit his frame.

"There's a lot of things I want," he answers, resting his hands dangerously close to your thighs on the counter.

"Is one of those things to annoy the hell out of me?" you joke, and he chuckles as he nods his head.

"Maybe. That's one."

"A lot of people don't get what they want."

You feel your breathing hitch when he leans in closer to you, close enough that you can feel his breath fanning over your face. "I got all summer to get what I want."

You gulp harshly as you find it difficult to tear your eyes away from his. "What is it?" you ask, your voice a lot more airy than you want it to be.

He tilts his head to the side like he's thinking as you try to find a way out of this situation. "It's more of a who than an it," he tells you, and try to slow your breathing which you didn't even realize had picked up. That's how much of an effect he has on you, and you hate it.

"Well, I hope you get who you're looking for," you respond, but he doesn't move when you shift.

"Eren, leave her alone, she doesn't want anything to do with you," Jean yells from the living room, but Eren's eyes never leave yours as he grins.

"I think you beg to differ," he whispers, and you scoff.

"You would be terribly wrong." And it really is hard to lie when your body is screaming the truth.

"I would?" he questions, keeping his voice low, and you glance to your right, seeing that Jean can't see into the kitchen, and you jump when he pulls you into him by your thighs. Your lower half is touching him, and if you move your legs, they'll tighten around his waist, so you don't move. "You're not a very good liar," he says, his lips just in front of yours, so close that if you even lean in a smidge, you'd be kissing him.

"And that means?"

"Getting you right where I want you won't take all summer." Your mouth falls open slightly as your body goes warm all over. You need to get out of here before you do something you shouldn't.

"Eren, what the hell are you doing?" Eren gives you a wink before he moves away from you.

"Nothing, man. Just making small talk." He crosses his arms as he leans back against the counter, and you find yourself glued to your spot before your brain tells you to move, hopping off the counter, not giving him another look as you walk out of the kitchen, feeling his gaze burning into you.

So much for a relaxing summer.

|Masterlist|Chapter 2|

Taglist: CLOSED

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yaeger x you #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

125 notes · View notes

thelegendofjenna · 2 years

Text

A couple days ago @honeysucklepink made this playlist meme, so I spent too long crafting a playlist instead of, like, doing my job. Here are the results:

1. A song from at least ten years before you were born: I Don't Want to Know - Fleetwood Mac No particular reason behind this choice - it's just a very good song.

2. A song from the year you were born: Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette I actually didn't know that Jagged Little Pill came out in my birth year until I was googling songs for this playlist!

3. A song you remember from elementary/primary school: I Feel Fine - the Beatles My childhood was rife with Beatles music, since my parents both like them and we had a lot of Beatles CDs. I specifically remember frequently dancing around the living room to I Feel Fine with my little sister.

4. A song you remember from high school: Tightrope - Walk the Moon I was introduced to Walk the Moon the fall of my senior year, when I went to a small show of theirs with some of my closest friends. It was maybe one of the greatest nights of my life up to that point, and this whole album continued to be the soundtrack of that last year of high school.

5. A song you remember from college/your early twenties: Favorite Liar - the Wrecks This was a song that I found through Spotify, and it wouldn't be until after college that I got into the rest of the Wrecks' music (all of which I enjoy, and much of which was frequently on replay while I was writing my novel in 2020). The ending of the song, with the lyrics "you made me love the rain," always reminds me of this moment over spring break my freshman year of college, where my friend and I woke up in the late morning quietness of our friend's house in Ohio and admired the rain.

6. A song an older sibling/friend introduced you to: We Are Young - fun. feat Janelle Monae This one stumped me a little - as the eldest sibling, I don't have a lot of experience getting music recommendations from people older than me. But this particular song was shown to me on the bus home from high school when I was a junior, by this guy who was a grade ahead of me and whom I was totally besotted with. He sat next to me and said, "hey, check out this song," handing me one of his ear buds, and played me We Are Young. Then like a month later, the song was covered on Glee and I was like, "wait a minute, I know this song!"

7. Favorite Glee cover: Somewhere Only We Know I can't actually pick a single favorite Glee cover, there are so many that I adore and that are hard to compare. I chose this one because it's excellent and worked pretty well with the vibe of the other songs on this list.

8. A song you associate with a good summer memory: Lovebug - the Jonas Brothers I went to my first concert the summer before eighth grade, seeing the Jonas Brothers with my two cousins, who were also my best friends. Lovebug hadn't been released yet, but they played it at the show, and we instantly fell in love. It is still, arguably, the greatest Jonas Brothers song. And the music video is fantastic.

9. A guilty pleasure song: Guilty Pleasure - Cobra Starship Okay I KNOW this is cheating but I couldn't resist. I was originally going to put a 3OH!3 song in this slot, because some of them are bangers despite some deeply questionable content in the lyrics, but thinking about 3OH!3 just made me think about the kind of trashy pop punk (I say with love) that I was into as a teen, which made me think of Cobra Starship, which reminded me of this song. I am not actually guilty about loving it because it SLAPS.

10. A song you like that was released in the last three months: Flip Me Upside Down - the Wombats Another band that was on heavy rotation while novel-writing! The Wombats just released a new album this month, much of which is good, and this song is particularly catchy.

#music #playlist #long post #Spotify

5 notes · View notes

miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

Can you do 1 for Auston Matthews

from the evermore prompt list

“Wherever you stray, I follow / I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man” - willow

“He’s literally been staring at you all night,” your friend snickered, nudging your ribs with her elbow nonchalantly.

You smirked, lips hidden by your martini glass. There was once a time when you might have tried to argue with her on this topic, but there was no use anymore. Both of you knew it.

“How long ‘til he comes over here and asks you to go home with him? I give it ten minutes,” she giggled as she set aside her empty beer bottle.

You blushed and rolled your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” you insisted. “I made plans with you. Not him.”

She dismissed you with a quick wave of her hand. “Like I’ve never ditched you for a guy before,” she pointed out.

You weighed that as you angled your head from side to side. She wasn’t wrong — you’d been best friends since freshman year of college, and you’d moved together to Toronto after graduating last year. During your friendship, there had been plenty of girls’ nights that had come to a screeching halt in favor of one of you meeting up with a “suitor” (see also: booty call). Both of you understood that sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do — or who a girl’s gotta do.

Before you could respond, she was flagging down the bartender.

“If you don’t send him a drink, I’m going to on your behalf,” she warned with a grin.

Your eyes flickered to Auston, whose steely gaze had barely left your face for the last hour, except when his eyes traveled downward to drink in your figure. His teammates flanked him, laughing and joking with each other and with their significant others. As usual, Auston flew solo. You knew if he had his way, you’d be tucked under his arm. But you had yourself convinced that now wasn’t the right time to settle down.

As much as it drove Auston nuts that you still hadn’t agreed to be his girlfriend officially after hooking up and seeing each other for months, he settled for the nights he made you his under the cover of darkness. Though he wasn’t necessarily happy with your clandestine meetings, he was content, at least for now. At least, that’s what he told himself.

You had an undeniable hold on him, and he would take whatever morsel of affection and attention you offered him, no matter how much he hated himself for it. All you had to do was give him the signal, and he would come running.

Despite not feeling ready to fully commit to Auston, you, too, would follow him wherever he wanted. You were caught in a current that kept pulling you toward him, no matter how desperately you tried to swim the other way. Eventually, you were always worn down to the point where you let yourself drift to him, before finding your footing again and making your escape once dawn broke.

You forced yourself to look away from Auston’s hypnotizing eyes, just as your friend was reaching to pull a cocktail napkin from the caddy on the bar. The bartender first took her order, then your friend said, “Can I borrow a pen? And she needs to order a drink for someone. I think we all already know who.”

The bartender, who knew the Leafs contingent well and had seen the two of you adjacent to their party multiple times, smiled knowingly, turning her attention to you as she placed a pen on the bar. You swallowed hard.

“Get him a gin and tonic,” you said quietly, nearly drowned out by the music and the noise of the crowd. She nodded as your friend pushed the napkin and pen toward you along the wood.

“Go ahead,” she said dramatically, losing her patience with your antics, and Auston’s.

You huffed, knowing she wasn’t going to let this go, and also knowing you really didn’t mind. You clicked the pen and scribbled a note before sliding it toward the bartender.

“Meet me outside when you finish this,” the bartender read aloud teasingly as she began walking backward toward the shelves of liquor. “You know, he gets a lot of these,” she offered, wagging a finger at you. “But yours are the only ones he ever pays attention to. Just so you know.”

Your jaw muscles tightened as she turned away to pour. Your friend dropped her head and tried to control her wheezing chuckles.

“Stop it,” you warned through clenched teeth, pinching at her forearm. She shook her head helplessly as she tried to reign in her hysteria.

You looked on as the bartender headed to the opposite end of the bar, toward Auston, with the napkin and the drink — his signature beverage — in hand. You sat sipping at your own liquor and trying not to let Auston notice your stare.

You watched as his somber expression changed, his gleaming smile appearing and lighting up your being, even from yards away and with dozens of people in between. He met your eyes for only a moment, smirking before he turned away from you, toward Mitch and Steph, and brought the drink to his lips.

All part of the game.

Five minutes later, you paid your tab and gathered your purse, knowing Auston wouldn’t have it in him to keep you waiting for too long. You kissed your friend’s cheek and bid her goodnight, promising to meet for brunch in the morning as she winked.

You moved through throngs of people drinking and dancing before being met with the welcome, muted silence of the night as you stepped through the exit. You leaned back against the brick exterior wall and breathed in the cool night air, anticipating what would come next.

What always came next.

Not a minute later, Auston came barreling through the door you had just come out of, offering only a low “hey” before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you feverishly, stealing your breath away as his lips clung hungrily to yours, pressing your back flush to the brick. You clutched the tailored fabric at his sides, pulling his body further into you to feel his familiar warmth — a heat you found yourself craving more often than you’d like to admit.

For several minutes, you stayed in his embrace, unbothered by the worry of who might see what. Eventually, Auston pulled his mouth away from yours just long enough for you to suggest, “Wanna get outta here?”

The corners of his lips turned up into a smile and he admitted, “I already called an Uber. Be here any minute.”

You nodded gratefully, reaching an arm up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss you, more tenderly this time. You knew that Auston noticed the downshift in your mannerisms, though you didn’t know that as he pressed his hands to your lower back, he opened his eyes just slightly, and only for a moment, willing himself to remember how perfect this moment felt. Even if he didn’t get to have you in the way that he truly wanted you.

The nearing headlights and the sound of brakes were the only reasons that you pulled apart. Auston took your hand swiftly, beaming, and pulled you toward the waiting car, allowing you to slide into the backseat first before he followed.

As he slipped an arm around your waist and you settled comfortably against his broad chest, you could feel him sneaking into the places you had long battled to hold him out of. Only time would tell if you would bend your will.

139 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

NOT YOUR FAIRYTALE - ft. myg

What do you do when you've called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother's grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing. min yoongi. sort of.

genre + rating. fluff-adjacent. general.

warning / tags. mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, fluff and hurt/comfort, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends.

reading. n/a. a stand-alone three part one-shot.

word count. ~1850

chapter iii.

“I didn’t mean it, Yoongi.”

The apology is off your tongue and crashing into his ears before you have a second to consider it, pleading colouring syllables in soft shades of blue. You hate the way he’s looking at you, like you’ve found the chink in his armour and are on the verge of exploiting it.

“It’s fine.” Over a decade of friendship tells you it’s decidedly not fine. His concession comes far too quickly, meant to placate whatever guilt he’d accidentally kicked up.

It makes you feel worse, the weight increasing tenfold when he offers you his seldom-seen smile. Gums flash, corner of his mouth hitching over soft pink tissue. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes though, falling just short of the endlessly dark depths of his irises.

“Seriously. Forget about it.” You know he’s doing his best to force you onward but you can’t help but dig your figurative heels further into the dirt. An immovable force.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeat, voice thick with meaning.

Yoongi huffs a little, seemingly frustrated. You shrink a little further in on yourself, shoulders dropping and lips shifting in tandem. You’re probably pouting. You feel his stare from your periphery, feline gaze focused wholly on the way your mouth turns and turns around words you’re trying to perfect.

Silence stretches on, longer than you can stand and far more awkward than you’re used to. You can feel it like a suffocating weight, a goose down comforter in the heat of summer - heavy and unpleasant.

“I’m sorry.” It squeaks out in the same instant he sighs. He sounds less irritated, though you can see the tension in his chin, how it jumps the muscle in his jaw.

“You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“But I don’t think you’re heartless, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have said it.” You say it like it’s crucial - as if you might perish if you don’t get them out. They sweep into the spaces between you, earnest and full of fear, filling all the cracks left by your own hand.

You layer your reassurances as best you can, tongue tripping over teeth as you ramble about all the different ways you see him.

In shades of diffused morning light, lined with silver like a physical reminder that there’s always hope. Through the lens of childhood admiration, sprinkled with childish laughter and doe-eyed awe. With as much unconditional love as you’ve ever been capable of, wrapped up in furtive glances and curious, miserably nonchalant texts to your brother.

It comes and comes, word vomit that won’t stop until you’re brought back by the expression on his face. It’s tender, bemused - reminiscent of a parent of an overzealous child. You’ve seen it a million times before, though the instances were much fewer and far between now that you were older.

You immediately backtrack. “I’m sorry.” This time it’s for wasting his time, for being his best friend’s annoying little sister.

You’re tumbling over your own two feet again. You’ve said too much by the time he speaks at all.

“You’re more than that.” A statement of fact, seemingly, by how he delivers it with such ease, as if it hasn’t just set your heart off in your chest, the poor thing stuttering to life (or death). You’re not sure.

Despite your best efforts, the singular word gives you away, coloured canary red with hope. “What?”

If he’d heard your question at all, he says nothing, footsteps never faltering. He’s walking ahead like he hasn’t just turned your world on its axis, throwing you completely off-balance. He doesn’t even offer a glance back, halfway down the block by the time you come to your senses.

You jog to catch up, fingers eager to close the distance you quickly eat up. You settle into a measured pace behind him, though your mouth moves at a mile a minute. You can feel the maddening persistence in your bones, hear it as it carves demands into what was once comfortable silence.

“Why did you say that?” No response. “Yoongi!” He doesn’t even flinch, gaze trained ahead as if he’s never been in Apgujeong before and he’s terribly interested in everything but you.

The distinct urge to stomp your foot fizzles through your limbs and you almost do. You’re rooting yourself to the spot, sneaker raised comically, when he rounds on you. Brows have disappeared into his swath of dark hair and his chin tilts just so, studying you quizzically. It looks like he’’s having an internal debate as to whether he should rib you further.

He decides against it - returning to the conversation you’re so adamant to have. “You know, for being a Kim, you’re not that bright.”

“Excuse me?” Indignation bursts out your mouth. You’re focusing too hard on the words he’s spoken than the implication behind them. They sail over your head, lost to the pretty coral that streaks across the sky and eats up the horizon.

To Yoongi, it’s like watching his literal heart fly out the window. He’s a little exasperated when he speaks again. “You’re my best friend’s little sister. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“What’re you saying?” Because you’re really confused now. You think Namjoon would be too.

Are you even having the same conversation?

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” The line of his mouth quirks, corner stretching into something that borders on a smirk. It’s devilish - decidedly not something you’re used to - and you imagine your stomach kickflips before wrecking itself on the pavement.

Your silence seems to be answer enough.

He heaves a sigh as if he’s been terribly inconvenienced, arms folding over his chest. The gesture should read as don’t come near me! but you have the very distinct urge to fold yourself under his arms. You resist it by biting down hard on your bottom lip.

“I’ve had feelings for you since we were kids. Specifically since you had your 10th grade ballet recital and you kept the bear I got you.”

You remember the day like it was yesterday. You’d been lucky enough to land the coveted spot in the winter showcase and he’d been there, shoulder to shoulder with your brother, when you’d taken your bow. The bouquet of peonies he’d brought you - in soft shades of blush and violet, your favourite colours - had nearly engulfed your frame and you’d had trouble holding both it and the sweet brown bear that came with it.

The same bear that still sat on your bedside table, propped up beside your charging cable and yearly planner. The one you’d cried yourself hoarse over after you thought you lost it during your freshman year of college.

“I don’t understand.” You frown, deeply. You can feel the little dent between your brows. It comes out when you’re stressed or confused or, in this instance, both.

He’s more teasing than unkind: “Like I said - not that bright.”

You ignore the dig. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t do that to Joon. I promised I wouldn’t.”

Somehow, that’s more of a revelation than Yoongi’s confession.

“He knows?” You can’t help the gasp that ricochets out of your mouth, belligerent and betrayed. You’re already running through the 100 different ways you’re going to kill your brother. Because he’d known! While you’d pined, Namjoon had known and simply stood by. “He knows how I feel about you and he didn't say anything?”

You know if you think about it, you can’t blame him. You’d given him a hard time too when he and Sora seemed to get along a little too well. Call it a sibling thing.

In the heat of the moment though, you’re livid. So Yoongi does what he does best and redirects effortlessly.

“—feel?”

The prompt reassigns all focus back to him, your anger toward your brother all but forgotten. You think you could give Pikachu a run for his money by the surprise that works itself into your expression. Heat licks itself across your cheeks, rolling like a steam engine over the exposed skin of your neck and up past your ears. Had it suddenly jumped 20 degrees?

“I mean felt.”

When Yoongi steps forward, you’re hyper fixated on the way his mouth bends and bows, gums and neat white enamel revealed by the motion. You’re rooted to the spot as he’s suddenly all you can see, crown of dark hair blocking the light from behind him, narrow shoulders curling in on you. He’s near enough you can smell his comforting, woody scent.

You haven’t been this close in - well, ever, you think.

Then he kisses you - a chaste thing, right on the cheek - and you forget how to breathe.

“I guess we’ll need to change that.”

SIX MONTHS LATER

“I’m honestly surprised,” your boyfriend drawls, the picture of disinterest as he leans himself against the packed counter top, elbows propping himself up. He’s staring out at the sea of people swarming the apartment, a comfortable group of new and old coming together to celebrate something very important.

He watches as your brother narrowly misses knocking over the beer pong table, earning a groan from the participants. Jungkook yells something about his shot being messed up; Jimin denies a re-throw. There’s more incoherent shouting.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re at his back, arms twined neatly around his slender waist as you press your face into the warm expanse of his back. The sweater he wears is overly soft from years of wear and it feels good under your reddened cheek.

You’d had a bit to drink and you were feeling exceptionally affectionate.

“You actually kept it a secret.” Not that he hadn’t figured it out himself. It was in your nature to throw surprise parties - you did for Namjoon and Jin and that loud best friend of yours - so he’d only figured he would get one when the time came.

“We’re very good at keeping secrets in this family, remember?” Your voice carries past the cotton of his clothes, filtering through laughter to kick his beating heart into overdrive.

“Oh, how could I forget.” He snorts quietly, turning in the same instance you unlatch yourself from him. He has to fight the look of disappointment that threatens to pull his mouth into a pout, brow knitting in disapproval as you round on the refrigerator.

It’s only when you spin back to face him that his expression cracks and re-sets itself with glee. Now he’s actually surprised.

Because you’ve got a cake box from the same bakeshop you’d gone cake tasting at. He recognizes the logo on the front and the pretty frosting behind the plastic cover. It’s shades of cream and citrus and decorated with cherries. Your - and his - favourite cake from that day.

“You’re not supposed to see the cake ahead of time!” It’s Namjoon bursting into the kitchen looking alarmed.

You laugh first, bright and sunny. “It’s a birthday cake, not a wedding dress.”

But as you kiss him, cake cradled gingerly between your bodies, Yoongi thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing you in that, either.

notes. this final chapter was short and sweet but i hope you enjoyed it. thank you for reading! x

tag list. @hoodmeup @loveyoongles @vi-hoshi

559 notes · View notes

bad-bitch-beauchamp · 3 years

Text

Songs About Me

Alright, here we gooooooooo! My very first fic! I have the first three chapters written out. This will definitely be drawn out, so stick with it! Lots of fluff, lots of angst! Inspired by Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo. You can also catch me over on Twitter @ tessaactually.

READ ON AO3

“What do I even wear to something like this? Jeans? A sweater? Fuck, Geillis, I can’t believe you talked me into doing this.” Claire tossed her phone to the middle of the bed. With her hands on her hips, she stood in her closet staring at all the clothes that wouldn’t work for tonight. Things were strewn from the doorway of her bedroom across the floor, up onto the bed, hanging off the dresser from hangers, and into the closet that led to her bathroom. Geillis Duncan, one of Claire’s best friends, had started a tradition of going on Friday nights. Geillis was always the life of the party with her outgoing personality, uncanny ability to read just about anyone, her fiery red hair swinging as she danced regardless of what song was playing. In Geillis, Claire found a soulmate. Someone to dance with, someone to laugh with, someone to drink with, someone to be truly best friends with. Sometimes, though, their ideas of a good time differed. Tonight just happened to be one of those times.

“Stop thinking sae hard. Maybe after a few drinks, ye’ll have a little more fun, aye?” Geillis responded hopefully through the speakerphone. Having more fun is indeed what she promised herself she would do, so she’d go out with Geillis -- damn her -- and try her best to have a good time tonight. It sounded like a nightmare, but she’d try. She’d try to have fun. Memories of the days when she made that vow to herself came flooding back unbidden, and she sat in the middle of her bedroom floor next to a discarded cardigan as she slipped into an unwanted reverie.

When Claire left Oxford College five years ago and gave up studying medicine, nearly everyone she knew tried to convince her she was making the biggest mistake of her life. Classmates staged interventions, friends tried to reason with her, and her professors pleaded with her to not waste her talent. No one was quite as angry as her boyfriend at the time. Claire expected frustration, sadness, maybe a little resentment, but never anger.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this, Frank. I really don’t.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she sat slumped on the floor against their bed. Raindrops ran down the windowpanes, thunder cracked the sky.

“I truly don’t understand how you could be so selfish! You have the talent for the coursework and the money to go here and you’re just, what? Going to through it all away?!” Frank stood across from her, forearm braced on the wall above his head. It was going on two hours since he had looked her in the eye. Claire sniffled in the background. Frank’s fist came to the wall with a sound rivaling the storm raging outside. His storm was not over.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought this through? I have a plan. I’m going to take the rest of my savings, maybe move back to the states and…” Her voice started to break then. Frank spun around on his heel to finally look at her, to really look at her. His chest was heaving,

“And what, Claire? And do what with your life? What about the life we planned together?” He stomped toward her, shaking the floorboards under her body as she clung to her knees. When she looked up, tears starting to fall from her lashes, he dropped to his knees in front of her, grasping for her hands. Claire finally saw more than anger. She finally saw the fear he was trying to reign in but quickly losing control of.

“I’m figuring it out, Frank. I’ll figure it out. We can figure it out. Maybe… maybe I’ll finally open up a greenhouse. You know how much I’ve always wanted to do that. Please, I… I can’t keep going on like this here. I’m so worn down and I can’t -- I know that I can’t -- survive it here another year.” The tears fell. She had been bottling up these thoughts for three years, and couldn’t hold back any longer. “Please, say you understand. Say you love me. Say you support me.” The teardrops turned into rivers. “Say you love me.”

For a few moments, Claire wondered if he had heard her pleas through her wrecking sobs. Finally, Frank let out the breath he was holding, letting his shoulders slump. He dropped her hands without ceremony. He ran a hand through his ordinarily perfect hair. He sat back on the floor, one knee bent up and the other outstretched. His arms reached behind him to hold him up. He just, stared at her.

She was jolted. She had expected outrage. She studied him as best she could through her swollen eyes and water-stained glasses. Everything was silent. The room they had shared for the past three years, was silent. Absently, she noticed the thunder and lightning and pounding rain had stopped, leaving only an occasional trail of water down the old glass windows. With every second the sky turned brighter shades of purple and pink and orange with the impending sunset. On a different day, maybe in a different place, she might have appreciated their beauty. Instead, she noted the silence.

Looking back at Frank then placing her face in her hands once more, she pleaded one last time: “Please say you love me.”

Frank blinked.

In one swift motion he was off the floor and moving toward her. She heard the old floorboard creak. She felt the air whoosh around the room with his movement. She waited for him to reach her.

“Claire. Look at me.”

Ah. Not moving toward her after all. Standing in the doorway with an air of having concluded a business dealing, Frank was watching her with not a single trace of emotion. Claire’s head rose. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and glanced his way with a smile, until she saw where he stood.

“I have never been so disappointed in you. Goodbye, Claire.”

Frank took a breath and looked her up and down, from wild curls to curled up toes. Claire opened her mouth to speak. Frank closed the door behind him as he left. Everything was silent.

Claire shook her head, making her curls bounce like springs. Geillis was still talking but hadn’t seemed to notice the lack of responses coming from the other end. Claire pulled herself up and tried to figure out what Geillis had been talking about.

“... They’re really sweet and kind and they’re really great about buying ye more than a few drinks, plus they’re fellow Scots and just the nicest! I mean, sometimes they’re a little rowdy, ye ken, but I think that’s what ye get when ye go out with Scots --” Geillis was rambling, and Claire didn’t have the foggiest idea who she was referencing.

“Hold on a sec,” Claire tugged an oversized oxblood sweater over her head. “Okay, fill me in again, please. Who did you invite tonight? I thought this was a girl’s night out after a long week!” She tugged on a pair of black faux-leather leggings, bracing on the dresser for balance and she began to tip over.

When Claire left Oxford, she moved back to Boston into her uncle’s old brownstone. Although her Uncle Lamb died during her freshman year at school, he had left her a hefty inheritance. Claire and her uncle were each other’s only family and when he died, he left her everything he had. In his will, he left Claire a note that simply read, “These things are only things, my dear. Use them to follow your dreams, however you may see fit. Love you always, Lamb.” Everything he left her gave her a home in the states far away from everything she wanted to leave behind in England, and the means to start her own little greenhouse in a tiny historic shop in Beacon Hill. After her two closes friends from Oxford graduated, they both ended up in Boston with her. Joe Abernathy was going his residency as Mass Gen, and Geillis had come to do the same until she saw Claire’s shop and declared, “Fuck it, this is way more fun.” She helped in the shop with supplying a small zero-waste shopping section for patrons interested in doing more to protect to earth.

Geillis giggled like a school girl when she started describing the friends she had invited out with them that night. “Weel first there’s Angus. Remember him? I went on a date with him two weeks ago to Seven Ales, ken?”

“Oof, wasn’t that the one you got blackout drunk with?”

“That’s the one, dearie! And a braw time it was! I mean, I assume it was because I don’t really remember the wee hours of it if I’m being honest.”

“Shocker. Who’s next?” Claire kept Geilliss on speakerphone as she rummaged through a pile of shoes in the corner of the bedroom.

“Och, that’d be Rupert. I went out a week ago to Cheers and met the guy who made me laugh until I fell off the barstool?” She giggled to herself at the memory.

“Oh yes, I remember that one. He actually sounded pretty decent.”

“He’s a right sweetheart! Angus is as wheel, just a wee bit more crass, aye?” Claire could practically hear her winking through the phone.

“Alright, that’s not too bad. I can handle two more besides you and me and Joe. I’m actually getting excited for tonight! This week at the shop has been a lot.”

“Agreed, babe. I’ve got tae go, but I’ll meet ye there? Eight o’clock sharp, I want to get our names put in for karaoke!”

#i'm very nervous but very excited #damn actually exactly chidi rn #okay so i know the song is angsty but this fic has a lot of both angst and fluff #just stick with it okay?#you'll love it (hopefully)#i sure do #thanks love you bye #outlander fanfiction #outlander fan fic #in which tessaactually tries fan fic #ope here we go again #outlanderpromptexchange #songs about me fic

80 notes · View notes

ukulelecal · 3 years

Text

Bloom - Part Two

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: a bit more angst but def more fluff. implied smut. a couple swears probably. hella feelings. mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: here is the second part!! less sad than the first!! lol anyways, i hope you guys love it, there will be one more part after this! reminder that feedback and reblogs are sosososo important to creators x

series masterlist

my masterlist // posted on ao3

*One year later*

Devon’s new school wasn’t all that she had imagined it to be.

Her classes were great. She was learning so much and her professors were very encouraging and helpful. Everything else, however, wasn’t so ideal.

She wasn’t fond of her classmates. Perhaps she was just so used to her old school, but everyone rubbed her the wrong way. She had only found a few friends that she trusted, but she didn’t even see them much. They had attended undergrad at that school, and they already knew everyone. Devon couldn’t quite make her way into the friend group.

She wasn’t a fan of the city, either. It simply didn’t have the vibe or the excitement that home did.

Home. She tried not to use that word to describe where she once lived, but her mind continuously went back to it. She knew exactly why.

That’s where Luke was.

Devon hadn’t heard from him since she moved. She left with a very brief goodbye and good luck wish, but that was it. She held back her tears during the Uber ride to the airport and all through the plane ride.

Luke, now alone in the apartment, broke down as soon as she left. He should have been the one taking her to the airport, kissing her goodbye and promising that everything would be okay. But nothing was okay anymore.

It had been a year since Devon moved, and the now broken up couple was doing a lot better. Devon distracted herself with schoolwork and trying to find her place in her new environment. She took up kickboxing as well as a way to let out her emotions, although the muscles she was developing were a plus as well.

Luke still had the same coping mechanism he always had; writing poetry. He poured his heart and soul into countless poems. They were completely raw, completely honest. He held nothing back. Frankly, they were his best work.

Devon’s first year of grad school officially came to an end. It was as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She couldn’t say she was happy there, but she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to get her master’s, and she wasn’t going to quit. For herself and for her family.

A very unexpected text quickly changed any plans that Devon might have had for the summer.

It was from Luke.

“Hey Devon. I know it’s been a while and I hope grad school is going well. But it's official. My first poetry book is getting published. You probably don’t want to hear from me, and I understand, but you were always the person that believed in me the most. Thank you for that. Truly. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m having a release party in a few weeks. Nothing big, just close friends and family. It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw his name flash across her screen. Not a single word had been exchanged between them in the past year. A part of Devon had been wishing that he would reach out, even if it was just to say hi and check in. She almost texted him a few times, but something always stopped her.

Hearing from him after so long brought an array of emotions, but the one that overwhelmed her the most was pride.

Devon knew how much this meant to him. He opened up to her about it on their very first date freshman year. She remembered sitting across from him at the coffee shop on campus, and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about releasing a book. She found his passion admirable, and she had every faith in him that he would succeed. She was his biggest supporter through the years; she was there to comfort him when he got rejected and help him through his bouts of writer’s block. He always told her that she was his biggest inspiration. Most of his poems ended up being about her in some capacity.

Despite everything that happened between, Devon couldn’t fathom missing this momentous time in his life.

With a deep breath, she typed out a reply.

“I would love to come. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

The weeks leading up to the party were utterly nerve wracking, for both Devon and Luke.

It took Luke a few days to work up the courage to invite Devon. He was scared she hated him and wouldn’t care to come, that she would be appalled at him thinking even for a second that she might want to see him again. It took a lot of convincing from Ashton, a college friend that he invited to move into the apartment once Luke realized he couldn’t afford the rent on his own and that he couldn’t stand being in the apartment by himself, but he did it. Luke wasn’t sure he breathed at all in the minutes it took her to respond.

Now that she was officially attending, it left the two to question what seeing each other would be like after a year apart. Would it be awkward? Would they end up having another argument and cause more pain? Would they be unrecognizable to each other?

The uncertainty was painstaking, but Devon reminded herself that she was there to support Luke, and Luke reminded himself that he would have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for Devon.

The time finally came for the release party. They both hardly slept the night before. Luke was alone in the bed that he used to share with the woman he hadn’t seen in a year, while she laid in a hotel bed just blocks away. Things felt different knowing that they weren’t hundreds of miles away anymore, and the next day they would see each other.

Devon pandered around her hotel room all day, doing her best to distract herself. She scrolled through every channel on the television, but nothing kept her attention. She did a workout, but every song on her workout playlist managed to remind her of Luke in some way.

They day dragged on until it was finally time for Devon to get ready. She played calming music in the shower to slow her heart rate and took her time doing her hair and makeup. It took some effort to steady her hands, but she got the job done.

Luke had been able to keep himself busy all day. A couple of his friends, Calum and Michael, shared a flat that was decently bigger than Luke’s apartment, and graciously offered to host the party there. Him and Ashton went over there early to make sure the place was clean and that all the food and drinks were ready.

Once guests started arriving, the nerves came back in full force.

He could only hope that he was really ready to see Devon.

For her, the Uber ride to the address Luke gave her hit every single red light. She bounced her leg in the back seat, unsure if she was thankful for the longer ride or if she hated it. On one hand, it gave her more time to prepare herself. However, every passing second made her nervousness increase.

Time stopped when the car parked in front of the flat.

She stared at it for a moment, the fact that Luke was just inside making her fingers tremble.

She didn’t realize she was still sitting there until the driver asked her if she was okay. She quickly thanked him and climbed out of the car.

Devon slowly made her way up the walkway, reminding herself with each step that this was a huge deal for Luke. His dreams were finally coming true. He had expressed to her that he credited her in part for his success. He must not have harbored any major negative feelings against her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been invited.

She almost felt a sense of calm as she reached the front door.

She slowly pushed it open, Luke having told her it would be unlocked and she could let herself in. Once inside, she didn’t see him right away. She recognized some friends from her undergraduate days, but nobody seemed to notice her right away.

A tall figure came out from the kitchen, and Devon had to do a double take.

Luke had certainly grown in their year apart.

His curls were shorter in the back and longer on top, and it looked like they had been dyed at some point. He opted for a pair of glasses instead of contacts, and he had a beard. She had never seen him with more than some stubble. He had on a forest green sweater that she always said was her favorite; she wondered if he had worn it on purpose. She couldn’t blame him if he did, considering she was wearing the long sleeved, yellow floral dress that Luke always said he loved on her.

He looked completely different, but at the same time, he was still her Luke.

All of her anxieties melted away the second he looked at her.

“Devon.”

It felt so natural. It was as if all of the pain that came from the last time they saw each other had gone away. They both knew in the back of their minds there wasn’t any bad blood between them, as much as their breakup hurt. Neither had exactly done anything wrong.

“You made it,” he continued through a deep breath.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lu.”

Devon looked the same. Her hair was a little longer than the last time he saw her, and he could tell that she had put on some muscle from the way she filled out her dress a little more. She looked good, healthy.

Luke silently thanked whoever was listening that she seemed alright, at least physically. He could acknowledge that he went into a bit of a downward spiral in terms of taking care of himself when she left. He hardly slept and completely shut himself out from everyone that reached out to him. Ashton moving in helped, but certain days made it bad again, like when their anniversary and Devon’s birthday passed. He didn’t want the same for her. He wanted her to do better than him.

Devon had her bad days too. She did better at the beginning when she had so much on her plate, but once things settled down, she was a wreck for a while, not much different than what Luke was like.

He hesitated only a moment before taking Devon into his arms. He prepared himself for her to pull away, but she did quite the opposite. She melted into him, cheek resting against the soft material of his sweater.

Devon remembered all the times she needed a hug. Whenever she had a bad day or was stressed out over school or simply just wanted to be held, Luke was always there. He would mumble a soft assurance under his breath as he took her into his arms, holding her tight as if she’d be gone forever if he let go. He would whisper whatever it was she needed to hear at the moment, although sometimes it was nothing at all.

She didn’t realize how badly she needed this one.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dev,” Luke whispered into her hair. He could smell the same coconut shampoo she always used and the warm, sweet perfume she always wore. It brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

“I’m glad to be here. I...I really missed you, Luke.”

The confession felt good. She tried to deny the fact that she missed him, but seeing him again, she realized how much she really had.

“I missed you too.”

Luke pulled away from the hug and kept his hands on Devon’s shoulders. The same blue eyes met the same brown ones. The ghosts of smiles tugged at their corners of their lips. Every worry they had about seeing each other had gone away.

“I want to say congratulations on your book,” Devon mumbled, fiddling with the small clutch she brought. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “I have to say, I-”

His sentence got caught off by a shout of his name from an arriving guest. He sighed and sent Devon an apologetic look. There was a lot that needed to be said, so much that needed to be talked about, but they knew that this wasn’t the time or place to do so.

“It’s fine, go on. We’ll catch up later, bub-” she cut herself off, the pet name she called him so often about to slip from her lips so naturally. “Okay?”

Luke sighed sadly but gave her a smile. He understood why she stopped herself, but God, he would have loved to hear her call him that again.

“Okay. See you in a bit, Dev.”

Luke slowly walked away to greet the new arrivals while Devon wandered off to find people she knew. She came across her good friends from undergrad - mutual between her and Luke - who thankfully seemed excited to see her. They made small talk and asked about grad school before easing into questions about Luke. She should have expected it, but she hadn’t talked much about the breakup since it first happened. It was easy to simply not mention it to her grad school group and they wouldn’t know the difference, but these were the girls that she called sobbing at random times during the day when she needed to talk. It was natural that they were curious.

“Did you two talk at all while you were gone?” One asked, and Devon shook her head.

“No,” she sighed. “I think that was best, though.”

Devon’s eyes trailed to the right. Luke was talking to some family members, laughing. A small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. His laugh was musical and contagious. She always felt proud of herself when she made him laugh. Not that it was a difficult task; he loved to laugh. For Devon, getting to hear the noise was like a gift.

“Dev!”

She snapped her gaze back to her friends. Their expressions were a mixture of smug and concerned. It was obvious that Devon hadn’t gotten over Luke in the past year. She still looked at him the same way she always did. They were still concerned that she would get her heart broken again.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Devon glanced over at him one more time. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t. She almost threw away her shoebox of poems just to prove it to herself, but she couldn’t do it. It would always be him.

“Of course I do.”

…

The rest of the night, Luke and Devon didn’t speak. They weren’t avoiding each other, but the weight of the conversation they needed to have required the crowd to go away and the festivities to die down before it could happen. They exchanged glances and small smiles, saving the talking for later.

Devon purposely hung back as the crowd startled to trickle out the door. Luke had made a small speech thanking everyone for coming and celebrating with him. Everyone took it as the hint that the party was over. Deciding to help out while she waited, Devon busied herself cleaning up a bit in the kitchen.

Footsteps caught her attention, but they didn’t belong to who she figured they did. Instead of seeing Luke, she saw Ashton. He was Luke’s best friend, and while him and Devon never got super close, she still considered him a friend.

“Hey, Dev,” Ashton greeted with a grin, opening his arms for a hug that she gladly accepted.

“Hi, Ash. How have you been?”

“Good. Just working,” he chuckled as he pulled away from the hug. “You? How’s grad school?”

“It’s pretty good.” Good if he asked about her academics and not her social life, that is.

“That’s good.”

Ashton leaned against the counter across from her, shooting her a look. She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“Luke’s been freaking out, you know,” Ashton mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. “About seeing you.”

Devon sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Somehow, knowing that he was nervous too was comforting.

“Glad it wasn’t just me.”

“He really missed you. I’m sure he’ll tell you all this himself, but in case you don’t believe him, take it from me. He missed you so, so much.”

Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. It was good to hear it from someone else.

“I missed him too. A lot.”

Before Ashton could reply, Luke stepped into the kitchen, eyes flickering back and forth between his best friend and his ex girlfriend. Words got caught in Devon and Luke’s throats, neither of them sure what to say.

“I guess that’s my cue to get out,” Ashton joked, breaking the awkward silence. “Let me know when you’re ready to go home, Luke.”

The man walked out of the kitchen to help Calum and Michael clean up in the living room while Devon turned to look at Luke with furrowed eyebrows.

“Home?” She questioned.

“Ashton moved into the apartment a little while after you left,” Luke admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He took Ashton’s spot against the counter. “I needed a roommate to help with the rent.”

He left out the fact that being alone in there only reminded him that she was gone and he needed someone to keep him company.

Devon nodded in understanding, but felt another twinge of guilt. She hadn’t considered that she was leaving the financial burden onto him. Thankfully Ashton was there.

“How was your night?” Devon asked genuinely. The party was to celebrate his success, and she genuinely hoped he enjoyed it.

“It was really great.” Luke sent her a thankful grin. “I know I said it before, but it really means a lot to me that you’re here. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come.”

“This is everything you’ve ever wanted. After everything we’ve been through, I would never miss this moment in your life.”

Devon sent him a sad smile that he returned. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much to discuss. A tension hung between them, but not one of anxiety or dread. It was desperation and desire. A yearning for what they once had.

“We need to talk, Dev,” Luke whispered what they were both thinking. “Like, really talk.”

“I know we do.” She glanced at the clock on the wall beside his head. “But it’s getting late. My flight back isn’t until Monday. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow, if you’re free? Get lunch?”

Luke nodded in agreement. It would be best if they both got some sleep and recharged before talking seriously.

“That sounds good.” Luke turned to look at the clock as well and laughed. “I know it’s past your bedtime.”

Devon rolled her eyes playfully. She was the “go to bed early, wake up early” type, while Luke was the opposite.

“Exactly. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

The two laughed together, for the first time in a long time. It felt so right.

“I should head back then,” Devon announced, reaching behind to grab her clutch that she had set on the counter. “Let me just call an Uber and I’ll be out of here.”

“Don’t worry about that. Ash and I came together, he’ll drive you back. Where are you staying?”

Not one to turn down a free ride, Devon rattled off the name of her hotel. Luke led her to the living room to get Ashton and say goodbye to Calum and Michael. Luke thanked them again for letting him have the party at their place before they were out the door and piled in Ashton’s car. Luke took shotgun while Devon slipped into the back.

The ride to the hotel was quiet. Only Ashton’s soft indie music and the sound of other cars filled the car. Shortly, Ashton pulled to a stop in front of Devon’s hotel. Luke turned around in his seat to face her.

“Thanks again for coming, Dev,” he mumbled softly, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for the ride, Ashton.” He nodded in acknowledgement before she turned her gaze back to Luke. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow would bring?

“See you tomorrow.”

Devon climbed out of the car and headed towards the doors, sparing one last glance and a wave before heading inside. Luke watched as she walked in, a small sigh escaping his lips. He turned his head to see Ashton with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Luke questioned.

“You still love her, don’t you, mate?”

Luke sighed again, glancing back towards the doors. Devon was already out of sight, probably in the elevator already. He knew exactly what she was going to do when she got to her room. She would kick off her shoes and then take her makeup off. She’d go through her night time skin care routine, put her hair in a bun with a silk scrunchie, and finally change into her pajamas, which were usually just a big t-shirt and panties. She would probably spend some time reading or watching cooking videos on TikTok before going to bed.

“Of course I do.”

…

Devon swiped one last bit of lip gloss across her lips when Luke texted her that he was outside. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and phone before heading downstairs to meet him.

The anxiety was coming back. Seeing Luke was one thing, but having a full on conversation was another. It didn’t help that the conversation would surely lead to the topic of their relationship. Their breakup.

Luke was feeling similarly. He had paced around the apartment all morning until Ashton gave him a pep talk. He reminded him that if they didn’t talk, Devon would just leave again and nothing would change. Nothing would get fixed.

The sound of a creaky car door opening snapped Luke from his thoughts, looking up to see Devon climbing in. He sent her a smile.

“Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, Luke. Bertha’s still kicking, I see?” Devon joked as she buckled her seatbelt. She knew that Luke wasn’t going to get rid of his beloved Prius until absolutely necessary, but the fact that the car still functioned at all was shocking.

“I think it might be her time soon, but for now, she gets me where I need to go.”

Bertha survived the drive to the small diner that Devon and Luke agreed on, albeit the radio cut out a few times. It was a new place and Luke had been wanting to try it. A part of Devon wondered if he really wanted to try it or if he just didn’t want to take her to one of the places that they frequented when they were together. Frankly, she wouldn’t have wanted to go to one of their old spots either. It would have felt too odd.

Once inside and seated, a waitress came to take coffee orders before scurrying away.

“Tell me about grad school,” Luke began, saving the more serious topics of conversation for later. It was best to start off casual and simply catch up on everything that had happened in the past year.

“It’s alright,” Devon sighed. She would have fibbed, but she felt no need to lie to Luke. “My classes are great. I’ve learned so much and my professors are awesome. It’s just…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words without sounding pathetic. She didn’t want Luke to judge her.

“What?” He pressed gently, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s the other students, I guess. Everyone at our school was so great, but the people there are just not so friendly. And most of the other grad students did undergrad there, so I couldn’t really fit my way into a friend group. And there’s just not as much to do in the city as there is here,” she explained, her hands occupying themselves with the napkin in her lap.

She locked eyes with Luke, waiting for his response. He could have used it against her. He could have guilt tripped her for leaving and then not being happy. But Luke would never do that and Devon knew it.

“Well that’s not good,” he mumbled sincerely. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

He truly did feel bad. Every day while Devon was gone, he thought about her. He hoped she was having a good day and that her education was going well. It pained him to think that she wasn’t having a great time.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m there for my master’s, not to make friends.” The waitress came back with their drinks and took their lunch orders. “Anyways, tell me about your book! What happened with the publishers and everything?”

The fact that Devon’s grad school wasn’t everything that she had imagined was still bothering him but Luke went along, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“I sent another draft to one of the ones that was interested before, a while after you left. He said he liked the majority of it but wanted a few different ones. It took me a while to figure out what he wanted, but eventually I got it,” he rambled. “I’m really happy with it.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, heart swelling with pride. “When does it come out?”

“Next week.”

Devon hummed in acknowledgement, already making a mental note to pick up a copy for herself.

“How about work?” She questioned after a sip of her cappuccino.

“You’ll never believe it,” Luke chuckled. “I got promoted to a manager position.”

“Really? It’s about time!”

Devon and Luke had a running joke about Luke’s job. He had been there the longest other than the owner, an old woman who still moved like a teenager. She always hung a promotion over his head, suggesting it but never following through. Luke knew she was planning on giving it to him eventually. It was just a matter of time until she actually did, and the two would always make jokes about it.

They made small talk until their food came, causing the duo to fall into silence. Meaningless conversation about the weather could only last so long until what really needed to be talked about came out.

Soup and sandwiches didn’t last long enough. Their plates were cleared and there was no point in stalling anymore.

“I think we fucked up.”

Luke’s statement was unsugarcoated. He couldn't say for sure how Devon felt, but every day throughout the past year, Luke felt like he was making a mistake. Everyone around them was shocked at the news of their breakup; if there were any college sweethearts that would actually last, it would be them. That certainly didn’t help Luke’s pain when everyone else knew it was a mistake too.

Devon felt tears burn the back of her eyes as she nodded softly. He was right. Perhaps it was best at the time, but they couldn’t do another year of being apart.

“I think we did.”

Her voice broke, taking a deep breath to calm herself down and not cry in the restaurant.

“Hey,” Luke cooed soothingly, noticing the tears and reaching across the table for her hand. As his hand encased hers, at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

Luke paid the check and made their way back to Bertha. The need for privacy left them with two options; Devon’s hotel room or the apartment.

“Maybe we could go to my hotel room,” Devon suggested. “That way we won’t bother Ashton.”

That was only part of the reason. Devon wasn’t sure how she would feel if she stepped into her old home in the current state of their relationship. All of the memories her and Luke had would come flooding back. The hotel room was a neutral place without connection to what once was.

Luke agreed and drove to the location he remembered from the night before. The elevator ride up to Devon’s room was heavily silent, hands brushing against each other but never interlocking. The sound of the door shutting behind them once in the room was thunderous, the sound signifying that there was absolutely nothing between them and the inevitable anymore.

They stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking anywhere but each other. There was no good way to start the conversation. There was no easy way to talk about a painful breakup that led to a year apart, then being reunited.

Without the right words in mind, Devon threw herself at Luke. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle and buried her head into his chest. Luke returned the gesture, holding her as close as he could. The hug said more than what either of them could put into words.

It wasn’t until a few minutes that Devon finally found something to say.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu,” she whispered shakily. “I can’t keep missing you like this.”

“This is all my fault, Dev. I was the one who didn’t think we could do it. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Devon surely didn’t think it was his fault. He had every right to be upset that she was moving so far away, and he had every right to be scared of what the distance would do to their relationship. She felt the same way. They broke up to spare themselves the pain of long distance. It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that the pain of being broken up was much, much worse.

As much as she tried to push the thoughts away, Devon couldn’t help thinking about how if she hadn’t left, this wouldn’t have happened. She knew that she did nothing wrong and that her education was just as important, but she had never intended to pursue it in expense of her relationship.

“This isn’t your fault. It was both of us. We were just saving ourselves from the pain. Besides, I was the one that left-”

“No,” Luke cut her off, glancing down at her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Devon lifted her head up to meet his gaze. His face was serious but his eyes were completely sincere. She had always feared that he would hold a grudge against her for leaving. One look into the gorgeous blue eyes that she fell in love with told her that he didn’t.

“I never want you to blame this on you going to grad school. I want you to know that I completely support your decision and all your aspirations, honey. I will never hold that against you.”

Tears brimmed Devon’s eyes again, but these weren’t tears of pain. They were of love and adoration. Luke was the most amazing man she had ever known. He had a heart of gold and was one hell of a poet. She had never felt so loved as she felt by him.

“Please tell me this isn’t over, Luke,” she whispered, hands moving to cup his bearded cheeks. A single tear slipped down the soft skin of Devon’s cheek. “I love you. I never stopped. Please tell me there can be an us again.”

Luke wasn’t sure when he started crying, but a sudden wetness on his cheek alerted him of the act. His hands tugged Devon’s waist to bring her closer, noses brushing touching and breath mingling. They could hardly remember the last time they had been that close, the last time they felt love so intensely.

“I’ve wanted us back since that day a year ago. I love you more than anything, Devon. Always have, always will.”

For the first time in over a year, Luke and Devon’s lips connected in a kiss. It was nothing short of passionate and heavy. The love they hadn’t been able to express for so long was rising to the surface, coming out in the form of mumbled words, bruising kisses and desperate touches.

Frantic fingers worked the buttons of Devon’s flannel, slowly pushing her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. The offending item was discarded to the floor and the newly reunited couple crawled onto the bed. Devon shivered under Luke, a reaction caused by a mixture of the cool sheets against her bare back and his lips on her neck, his beard providing a new sensation that she hadn’t felt before.

The past year was difficult. If they could go back in time and fix it, they would jump on the opportunity without a second thought. But just maybe, it made them stronger. Maybe they needed to begin to wilt in order for them to bloom.

…

“What do we do now?”

Devon curled closer to Luke as a crisp breeze cut through the darkening evening. He sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around them.

“I’m not sure.”

The couple sat in the trunk of Luke’s car with the door popped open, parked at a lookout point that overlooked the city. It was something they used to do all the time in college. It was comforting to return to their old traditions, knowing that they had fixed what they broke.

It was Sunday evening, the day before Devon flew back to her grad school city. They may have gotten back together, but they were still faced with the same problem as when they broke up. Devon still had a whole year of grad school left, miles away.

“I’m not sure I want to go back,” Devon admitted, eyes fixed on the city lights. Luke snapped his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean? Are you saying you don’t want to finish your degree?”

Luke would never forgive himself if she gave up her master’s degree because of him. He didn’t want the distance either, but he could never hold her back from her dreams.

“No, no, I want to finish. I just...I wasn’t happy in that city. This is my home. I’m happy here,” she explained. She tore her eyes away from the view in favor of looking at her boyfriend. “With you.”

Luke dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to her temple. Devon leaned into the affection that she had missed so much.

“It’s up to you, honey. I don’t want to hold you back. Just know that if you do stay there, I’m going to really try this time. I promise we’ll make it work, and I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Devon grinned at his words. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that; that the past wouldn’t repeat itself. However, she didn’t want to put either of them through the suffering of a long distance relationship when she didn’t even want to be away.

“I appreciate that, bubs. But I just can’t do that to us after everything we’ve been through.” She thought for a moment, trying to decipher the best course of action. “Maybe I could finish online.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement; it was a good compromise. Devon got to finish her degree at the school with the best program, and she didn’t have to be so far away. It benefitted Luke as well, not just her. However, he didn’t want to sway her either way.

“If that’s what you want, honey. This is your decision.”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she thought it over. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle hum of the city below them and the cold breeze that ruffled the trees. It was so familiar. They had spent countless nights like this, simply enjoying each other’s company and rewinding from hectic college life. Luke had to remind himself that they weren’t undergraduate students anymore; Devon was in grad school and he was a published poet.

It was baffling how everything felt like it had gone back to the way it was, yet things were actually so very different.

“That’s what I want,” Devon announced with confidence after a few moments of pondering. “I want to stay here.”

Matching lovesick grins spread across their faces as they locked eyes. She scooted closer to Luke, if that was even possible, nudging her nose against his.

“You’re sure?” He verified, eyes fluttering closed.

“So very sure.”

He chuckled lowly before closing the gap. The air between them was finally clear. Their relationship was fixed and they would still be together. No more pain and suffering.

Devon rested her head on Luke’s shoulder when the kiss broke, breathing out a content sigh. They enjoyed the silence for a moment before Devon piped up with a question.

“Can I move back into the apartment?”

“Of course you can,” Luke chuckled. “That’s our place. Why couldn’t you?”

“What about Ashton?”

“He understands our situation, babe. He saw this coming. He already asked Calum and Michael if he could take the extra bedroom at their flat if it came to this, and they agreed. As long as you’re fine with living with him for a little while until he moves out, then he’s fine with it too.”

Devon let out a breathy laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I mean, I’ll still have to go back to my apartment out there for a bit to get my stuff.” She looked up at Luke with a hopeful glint in her eye. “Do you think you could come with and help? It’s alright if you can’t.”

“I can come, honey. I’ll see if I can fly out with you tomorrow, but if not I can come a couple days later, so you don’t have to change yours.” A smirk spread across his face before continuing. “Or we could just wait to go together and stay here for another few days. You know, catch up a little more.”

Devon laughed and playfully rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder.

“What a way with words you have, Hemmings. No wonder you’re a poet.”

“Speaking of poetry, I have something for you.”

Luke pressed a swift kiss to Devon’s cheek before hopping out of the trunk. He opened the door to the back seat and rifled around for a moment, then returning to face Devon. He removed his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her.

“For you.”

Devon took the item from his hand curiously. It only took a moment for her to realize what it was.

It was a book titled The Life of a Flower. The cover was a stunning photo of two orchids side by side, and Luke’s name was printed across the bottom.

His first poetry book.

“You’re the first person to get a copy,” he mumbled sheepishly, breaking Devon from her trance of staring at it. She couldn’t help the tears of pride that welled in her eyes. If seeing the actual, physical book in person was such an emotional moment for her, she couldn’t even imagine how Luke must have felt when he saw it for the first time.

“This is incredible, Luke,” she whispered, smiling despite her tears. “I’m so proud of you, bubs, so fucking proud.”

Devon dropped the blanket from her shoulders and hopped down from the trunk. Her arms found their way around his neck while his found her waist. Pride was an understatement. She had been there every step of the way, and seeing his dreams finally come to life was a wonderful sight to see.

“Thank you, Devon,” Luke whispered into her hair. “For being my biggest supporter. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It’s not me, Lu,” she mumbled in response, tilting her head up to look at him. “You have a gift. Your writing got you here, not me.”

“I would have given up on writing a long time ago if I didn’t have you. You give me an endless amount of inspiration that I never had before. A poet’s words are meaningless if his muse isn’t worth writing about.”

“Damn. William Shakespeare has nothing on you,” she joked although she was absolutely melting on the inside. Luke groaned playfully.

“You always ruin the moment. Anyway, look at the first pages.”

Devon removed her arms from his neck to flip through, skipping past the title page, copyright and table of contents until she found what he was talking about. She found a dedications page that only made her tear up again, reading:

“For Devon. You’ll always be my orchid.”

66 notes · View notes

shawnmendesbuddy · 3 years

Text

Boyfriend‘s Brother

Summary: Y/N’s boyfriend is Peter. Shawn is Peter’s brother. Shawn likes Y/N, but has a terrible way of showing it. Warnings: Swearing! PeterxReader (at first)

“Oh my gosh, look who it is? The school’s know-it-all. What a beeyotch,” Shawn said laughing with his friends at Y/N as she grabbed her books out of her locker.

“Yeah I heard she was only with your brother for your family’s money. What a pig!” Shawn chuckled at his friend’s comment.

Y/N kept her head down as she started to quickly walk away, but Shawn grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. She dropped her books on the ground and cried out in shock at her proximity to Shawn’s face. His warm breath fanned onto her cheeks and she shuddered, cringing slightly.

He looked very similar to his brother, Peter, Y/N’s boyfriend to be exact. They had the same dark brown eyes and curly hair. As she stared into Shawn’s harsh eyes, she saw a flicker of what she thought to be regret, before he pushed her to the ground laughing with his friends as she crumpled to the floor.

Y/N started to gather up the books scattering the floor when Shawn kicked a book she was reaching for, out of her reach. She watched in horror as the book skidded across the floor.

A foot stomped on the book and she stared up into her boyfriend’s worried face. He made eye contact with her and sent her a sad smile. “Leave her the hell alone! The hell are you doing Shawn?!” Peter yelled at his brother, a dark look in his eyes.

“Nothing,” Shawn said shooting Y/N one last glance before following after his friends towards his class.

Peter helped pick up some of Y/N’s books and sighed. “I don’t understand why he he acts like that. He’s such a dick, I’m so sorry.” Peter shoved Y/N’s books into her bag and zipped up it up. He flipped her around and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You look tired, did you have a tough night?”

Y/N nodded. “I was up late studying for that math test.”

Peter nodded. “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up today, Shawn and I had early morning hockey practice.”

Most mornings Y/N would catch a ride with Peter to school because she didn’t have a car of her own. On the rare occasions where he couldn’t bring her, like today, she would ride with a friend.

“It’s alright.” Peter pulled away and left his hands resting on Y/N’s shoulders.

“K so my parents want you over for dinner on Saturday, do you think you can make it there?” Peter asked.

Y/N felt her head spin. Peter was amazing and fantastic and the guy everybody in school wanted. Y/N had met Peter through Shawn when she was a Freshman and he was a Sophomore.

Shawn and her had been partnered up to do a group project on Romeo and Juliet for English. Shawn had invited Y/N over to his house because he said to Y/N, and I quote, “Why would we go to your house? You definitely live in a dump and I’m not getting my clothes dirty.”

Y/N and Shawn had been arguing if Romeo and Juliet were in love, or if they had an obsession with each other.

“They’re definitely obsessed with each other in an unhealthy way. I mean come on, who threatens to kill themselves if their wife is sad? That’s disgusting!” Y/N said.

“Well I think they’re in love. I think it’s romantic that Romeo and Juliet don’t care what their parents think, they just want to be with each other. And plus, Romeo couldn’t live without Juliet just like Juliet couldn’t live without him. They were definitely in love! And I’m surprised, most girls our age fawn over how beautiful and romantic the death scene was, how come you don’t?” Shawn had argued back.

Peter had been walking past the kitchen when he heard the argument going on. He slowly cracked the kitchen door open and peeked his head in.

His mouth gaped open as he saw a beautiful girl sitting across from his brother. She had the kindest smile and the prettiest colored eyes. And her face was full of life and light. Peter felt butterflies flutter around in his stomach.

“I agree with her, they were definitely obsessed with each other!” Peter said intervening.

Shawn shot Peter a look that said ‘back off’ but Peter continued. “I mean, sure they had some sort of attraction towards each other but they had just met two nights before and they are already killing themselves for the other person? It’s ridiculous Shawn!” Peter said taking a seat next to the pretty girl.

She blushed and Peter sent her a small smile. “What’s you’re name?”

“I’m Y/N. You’re Shawn’s brother, Peter right?” Peter nodded.

Peter hardly saw Y/N after that day, but he still would wave at her in the hallways and he still thought she was gorgeous.

At the beginning of his senior year, Y/N’s junior year, him and Y/N were put in the same P. E. class and he finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. The rest is history.

Y/N was still stunned that the most wanted boy in the school—next to his brother—wanted her. It wasn’t that Y/N wasn’t popular or pretty, because she was. She was smart and intelligent and lots of guys liked her—with the exception of Shawn and his friends—and Peter felt as though he was the lucky one.

However, there was a slight problem with them dating each other. Well actually three problems. 1) Shawn despised her with every bone in his body 2) Y/N despised Shawn with every bone in her body 3) Peter’s parents hated that Y/N was middle class and not rich like them.

Actually, the third one might’ve been the biggest problem. Sure she could deal with occasional hate from Shawn—granted it was only occasional because Peter would usually whoop Shawn’s ass before he got a chance to say something mean—but receiving hate from Peter’s parents was a slap in the face. She just wanted them to love her, especially because family’s opinions mattered most in her eyes.

But Peter always reassured her that no matter what his brother or his parents thought, it wouldn’t change his opinion on her.

“Are you sure that going over to your house for dinner is the best idea? I feel like your parents hate me more each time.”

The bell rang over head and she sighed. “I’ll walk you to class. And hey, it’s Friday, you still have a day to decide. And I’ll tell them to play nice.” He said as he put his hand on Y/N’s lower back and guided her down the hall towards her chemistry class, which of course she had with Shawn.

“I don’t think Shawn or your parents are going to play nice but if you really want me there, I’ll do it for you.” Peter’s smile stretched across his face. As long as she could see that smile, she would say yes to anything he asked. “Alright, I’ll be there. What time?”

“6:00, I’ll pick you up.” He said. They reached her chemistry classroom and Peter swooped in planting a long and passionate kiss on Y/N’s mouth.

“Oh my hell! Get your mouth off of that ugly bitch!” Shawn yelled as he walked into the chemistry classroom.

Peter pulled away and shoved Shawn into the classroom causing him to trip over the doorway and fall on his face. Peter chuckled as did Y/N.

“Don’t listen to him, you’re beautiful babe. I got to get to class but I’m taking you out for lunch today,”

Peter said slowly backing away.

“Alright, see you then.”

***

Y/N had just finished curling the last strand of her hair when she heard the doorbell ring. “Honey! It’s Peter!” Her mom yelled up the stairs.

Y/N took one last look at her outfit—a black and white striped shirt with a denim jacket over it and dark blue ripped skinny jeans—before heading downstairs.

Peter was dressed in a white shirt and black skinny jeans. His mouth widened a little and his breath left his lungs. He always got this way around Y/N.

“You look fantastic babe, you ready?” Peter questioned.

Y/N nodded and grabbed onto Peter’s hand.

***

“Y/N I’m sure Peter has told you, but isn’t it wonderful that he got accepted to NYU? He’s only going to be 4 hours away, of course by plane. We can go visit him anytime we want in our private jet. Distance won’t be any issue at all. What do you think about him going to NYU Y/N?”

Y/N sighed. It had been a topic her and Peter had talked about for a while now. They both agreed that they wanted their relationship to last through college even if it was long distance. Peter promised to fly out to Y/N as much as possible, but Y/N didn’t have enough money to fly out to him as often as they both liked. Peter had tried to tell her that his parents would probably let her use the jet but she told him she wasn’t so sure about that.

“Well, I was thinking that Y/N would fly out with you guys when you used the private jet.”

Shawn scoffed. “Why would we bring that bitch with us in our,” he put an emphasis on the word our “private jet?

Y/N felt her face turn red. “He’s got a point Peter. I mean Y/N should have to provide for herself. After all we worked our way to the top and so can Y/N.”

Y/N thought she saw a twinge of regret in Shawn’s eyes but it was gone before she could even register it. She waited—the whole table waited in silence—for Peter to do something. To stick up for her. But he didn’t. He sat there stunned that his family would act this way towards the girl he loved.

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes. He was her boyfriend but how were they supposed to make this work if he couldn’t even stand up for her in front of his parents. Y/N stood from the table and ran out of the kitchen.

No one came after her. Not even Peter.

***

Y/N was crying into her hands when she heard the voice. “Will you stop the dramatics? What the hell was that in there?! You don’t think Peter’s already upset enough that our parents hate you? And you go and make it worse by running out and causing a scene! Peter’s a wreck and it’s all your fault,” Shawn said to her.

Y/N stood up quickly and slapped him hard across the face. “You insolent jerk! You douche! You son of a bit—“

A soft pair of lips cut Y/N off from her sentence. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist keeping her steady as she threaded her fingers through Shawn’s hair and pulled him closer—if that was even possible—to her. She didn’t know why she was kissing him back. He had brought her nothing but hell! But it felt so right, so different from when she kissed Peter.

Y/N finally gained the strength to push him away. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled a genuine smile at her. And she couldn’t help smiling back a little too.

“What just happened?” She whispered.

He chuckled. “I finally got to kiss the girl I’ve liked since Freshman year.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open and she pushed him away from her. “You’re such a liar! You hate me!”

Shawn shook his head. “I never hated you. I was just embarrassed that I had feelings for someone who wasn’t upper class like me, which is really shallow. I mean, coming from an upbringing like that though,” Shawn pointed his thumb back at the door,”I mean my parents discourage liking anyone below us. Not that your status matters to me,” Shawn said quickly. “Look I know it’s ridiculous, but I needed a way to push you out of my life and I thought by being mean to you, you would back off. But you hardly ever took my crap—well except for this morning—and I liked you more each day. And then Peter started dating you and...”

“You were jealous,” Y/N concluded. Shawn nodded.

“I’m the worst. I called you terrible things and I’m really sorry.”

Y/N nodded. She looked up to see Peter standing in the doorway dumbfounded. “What the hell’s going on out here?! One minute you two hate other and the next Shawn’s confessing his undying love for my girlfriend. Unbelievable! You’re joking Shawn, right?”

Shawn glared at Peter. “The hell I am! You knew I liked her and you asked her out!”

“Because you dodo brain couldn’t get it through you’re thick skull how to treat someone with respect!” Peter yelled.

“Well I guess I must have some sort of sense of respect because you’re girlfriend was just kissing me!” Shawn yelled back.

Peter’s face fell. “It’s that true Y/N.”

Y/N looked down at the ground and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Peter looked beyond hurt. ”After everything I’ve done to protect you from him? And you choose him? He…he,” Peter sighed. “I just don’t understand!” A single tear dropped down his face.

Y/N wanted to comfort him, but she also didn’t want to send the wrong message. Yes she did like Peter, but the thrill of the chase with Shawn was exhilarating. But now that the chase was done, would their relationship be as exciting?

And Peter had treated her so well. How had she gone and betrayed him?! He was so good to her.

“Look Y/N, I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I’m going off to college but we could still make this work. I…forgive you for kissing Shawn. But if you do want to be with him—if he makes you happy—I’m not going to stop you. It’s your choice.”

Y/N stared at both boys, contemplating the pros and cons of each one. Before sighing and making her choice. “I choose…”

A/N: This is a choose your own ending story. I know it’s crappy, but like, I’m trying here 😂. Also please send in requests.

Peter’s Ending

Shawn’s Ending

#shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes #shawnee #shawn fluff #shawnangst #shawn mendes imagines #petermendes #mendestwins

16 notes · View notes

deans-baby-momma · 3 years

Text

Wounded Hearts 2

Summary: When John Winchester leaves his two high school-aged sons in a motel in Fairfax, IN while he goes off on a hunt, they both make friends. What happens after they have to suddenly leave when John comes to fetch them. Will those friendships endure? Does Dean leave a piece of his soul behind?

Word Count: 3,408

A/N: This is a sequel to Past Haunts, but it’s mostly what happened in the thirteen years between high school and when Sam and Dean return to take care of a haunting in their old stomping grounds of Truman High. The first couple of chapters will be mainly Dean’s POV and then after that, each chapter will switch from Dean’s POV to Rebecca’s POV. I will label them appropriately.

Rebecca’s POV

The walk home is kind of uncomfortable. My crotch is sensitive and tender and these jeans are not helping at all. I think over what just happened. I just gave my virginity to Dean Winchester. The boy who came out of nowhere and walked the school halls like he owned the place. I briefly thought about how just last week he was all about Amanda Heckling, the popular girl, the head cheerleader. Had he fucked her too? They had seemed hot and heavy for a minute but then, just as quickly as he showed up, they were over and he was proclaiming to the halls that he was a hero. Had he taken Amanda's virginity too?

I shake my head and huff a laugh. No way was Amanda Heckerling a virgin. Not since freshman year at least. She had been caught with her pants down, literally, with Justin Scott in her bedroom. So, no Dean definitely hadn't taken Amanda's innocence.

As soon as I get home I rush to the bedroom to change out of my- now damp from the remnants of what had transpired between me and Dean- panties. Thankfully it's just my cum filling my underwear; Dean had wrapped it up before he fucked me.

I change quickly, wadding my ruined panties into a ball and stuffing them to the bottom of the hamper. My mom yells that dinner is ready and I pause, taking a breath and praying that neither she nor dad can sense the change in me. I'm no longer their innocent little girl but a woman, an adult capable of safely fornicating.

I can feel their stares, hear their whispers as I walk to my locker. Does everyone know? Are all my classmates aware that I am no longer pure and virginal Rebecca Quentin. Do they know that I oh so easily gave it up to Dean Winchester? Or am I just imagining it all?

I grab my books and sign in then take my regular seat in Mrs. Meadows' English Lit class. My heart is pounding in my ears, knowing that shortly Dean would walk through the door. Would he sit beside me, like he did Amanda? Would he ask me to be his girlfriend? I mean, we've already done the deed so that's the next step, right? Ok, so our steps are a little misconstrued but so what?

I hear him before I see him, his heavy army-style boots stomping down the hallway. As soon as he enters the room, my breath catches in my throat. I'd always thought Dean was good-looking but now? Damn is he sexy as hell! I can't help but turn away to hide the blush on my face as I remember his touch and how it felt to have him inside me. My heart drops as he passes by the empty desk beside me to take his seat at the back of the room. Dammit, maybe it wasn't as special to him as it had been to me. Maybe he was used to defiling girls and then acting as if they didn't exist. As Mrs. Meadows calls for attention I vow to confront him at lunch. Hopefully we can have a quiet discussion and not cause a scene.

By the time the bell rings for lunch, I am a nervous wreck. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to address the obvious elephant in the school. Dean Winchester conned his way into my pants; pretending to be a gentleman and noble when in all reality he was a fraud, a hustler. Watching him with his little brother yesterday, how he had made sure Sam was well-fed and taken care of had to have been a ruse! Just a way to get me to let my guard down and then he struck when that window of opportunity opened; like a snake, a conniving devious snake.

Deciding I can't civilly accost Dean, I make my way to the vending machines. I'll just go to the motel after school and talk to him then. I just hope he hasn't duped his next victim there. That's what I feel like; a victim, a casualty of the trickster that is Dean Winchester. I scan the lunchroom as I enter but see no sign of Dean or his brother Sam. I sigh in relief as I don't think I could handle being ignored again. I sit at a table in the corner and open my bags of chips.

The rest of my classes were dull and lackluster. I just couldn't concentrate on anything any of my teachers were saying. The concept that Dean was ignoring and avoiding me was breaking me, was breaking my heart and soul. I wanted to know why. Why did he choose me? Why did he have to defile what could have been an incredible friendship? Maybe even a wonderful and dare I say loving relationship. Did getting the privilege of saying he slept with me mean more to him than that? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got until I had furiously scribbled a hole into the paper on my desk. I was going to that motel after school and finding out!

When the last bell sounds, I gather my books and head to my locker. I look morosely at locker #214, the one Dean had been assigned. It was only a few down from mine. I hadn't seen him all day; not since he so openly ignored me during first period. It is painfully obvious he was avoiding me. Well I am going to put a stop to that. I march out of the building and head down the same path we had walked yesterday, straight to the place it all went downhill, room 7 at the Motel Monroe.

A few hours later

I knock on the door and wait. And the longer I wait, the more upset I get. How dare Dean ignore and avoid me and act like I don't exist in his world. Yesterday, he acted as if he made me believe he was interested in being my friend, if not more and today I'm nobody?

I'm not a nobody. I get perfect grades and in less than a year I will be moving away, going to college and in a few short years graduate with a master's in psychology and on my way to becoming one of the best behavioral counselors in the country. I have plans and dreams; I'm not just some girl to pass the time with.

After a few minutes and another knock, there is still no answer. I step to the window to see inside but the curtain is closed tight. 'Oh no you don't, Dean Winchester,' I think silently. 'You are not hiding from me. We are going to hash this out like adults.' I walked toward the manager's office to find out if there is a way to get him to open the door. Instead I find devastating news when the manager tells me, "They cleared out about 3 hours ago."

I walk away from the motel, the place I lost my virginity in with tears threatening to roll down my face. Will I ever see him again?

Eight weeks later

Time is a fickle thing. Some days it seems to rush by while others it seems to just stand still and turn stagnant.

After finding out that the Winchesters had left town, I turned my attention back to my studies. I only had a few more months until I'd be graduating high school and moving on to bigger, brighter things.

Thanksgiving had come and gone and now we are all hurtling toward Christmas and the almost two weeks off from school. The whole school is abuzz with excitement and enthusiasm for the break. Me? I am just going through the motions. I had gotten ill a few days ago, puking my guts up and just feeling horrible. Whatever it is, I wish it would just run its course already. I am tired of feeling weak and feeble.

Today is the school's last day before Christmas break and I was just looking forward to being able to lay around and let the flu or pneumonia or whatever gets its claws into me. Something grabs my attention and I look at the calendar hanging beside my desk. A big old red circle is around the 4th, the day I should've started my period. I grab the calendar and turn it back to November and see another big red circle. Two months. Two missed periods. And I know that they are missed because every time I start I always draw a line through the circle and these two circles have no lines. What the hell? I try to remember having my period in November but I am coming up blank. The last period I remember was in October, the first part of October. I remember because it was right after my Mom's birthday. I turn the page and yep, October 5th has a circle with a line through it. So why didn't I mark through November's and December's? I scan through the month of October and my eyes land on the 14th.

The day I spent with the Winchesters, the day I lost my virginity to Dean, the day that…..oh fuck. Oh god no!

At school, I can’t concentrate on anything. My calculus teacher calls on me and I don’t hear her. The words ‘I’m pregnant’ keep repeating over and over in my head. I can’t be pregnant. I only had sex once. But once is all it takes, I tell myself.

I get through the rest of the day, barely, and by the time the last bell rings I am a nervous wreck. I know what I need to do. I have to go to the pharmacy and buy a test. But everyone knows everyone in this town and I know old Mrs. Wilson will tell my parents that she sold me a pregnancy test.

Walking into the drugstore I am praying and hoping that Mrs. Wilson possibly has the day off and someone else is working her shift but no such luck. As soon as I walk in she sees me and smiles. I return the smile and walk down the farthest aisle from the one I need. As I trek slowly through the store, pretending that I am looking at different things, I come up with a plan. I’ll just take one off the shelves and ask to use the bathroom.

When I get to the correct aisle I feel overwhelmed. There are so many! Different brands, different processes. I find one that looks easy enough; what is more easier than just peeing on a stick? Stuffing the box in my bag, I head toward the front of the store, grabbing a package of maxi pads on my way.

“Hello Rebecca,” Mrs. Wilson greets me. “How are you today?”

“Hi Mrs. Wilson. I’m good. Listen, is there anyway I can, uh...use the facilities here?” I ask as I show her the maxi pads. She nods in understanding and points me toward the bathroom.

I quickly shut and lock the door and lean against it, taking a breath. ‘Come on Rebecca. You can do this.’ I think to myself. ‘It might even be negative. Could be something completely different wrong with me.’

I pull the box out of my bag and step toward the toilet. I know I don’t have that much time before Mrs. Wilson comes to check on me. Pulling the test out of the box, I quickly read the directions.

1. Pee on stick

2. Wait 5 minutes.

3. Two lines means pregnant; one line means not pregnant.

Ok simple enough. I do as instructed and place the stick on the sink. This is going to be the longest five minutes in history!

How can something so inconsequential as a piece of plastic change your whole life? Plastic is nothing but synthetic polymers that can be molded into whatever is needed. In this instance, this piece of plastic was sculpted into a thin white stick with a window on the end. And in that window was life-altering news. Two pink lines.

I stare at the test for what seemed like forever. I’m pregnant. I am only a few months away from turning 18, graduating high school and going off to college. Yet, here I am carrying Dean Winchester’s illegitimate child. I place my hand on my still flat stomach and look in the mirror. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper to my reflection. I didn’t even realize I am crying until I see the tears streaming down my face.

Hearing Mrs. Wilson heading my way, I hurry and wipe my face clean and pick up the positive test, sticking it in my pocket. I open the package of pads and take one out and cram the unused one into the bottom of the trash can. At least, that way it will look like I used one and not raise any suspicions with the old busybody.

After paying for the one item I won’t be needing for a while, I leave the store and head home. How am I going to tell my parents that I’m pregnant? Of course they're going to want to know everything. Well, maybe not everything. They know how babies are made, they have me after all. But they are going to ask a million questions. Who’s the father? Where is he now? Does he know? Is he going to be a man and step up? I only know the answer to one of those. Dean Winchester is the father. That’s all I know. He used me and then up and disappeared the very next day.

I get home and am relieved that both my parents aren’t home yet. I have a few more minutes to come to terms with the fact of my situation myself. I run upstairs to my room and fall onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. While I am alone, I decide to go ahead and get it out. The anger, the frustration, the heartache.

I am 17 years old, a senior in high school and pregnant by a boy who split in no time afterwards. The tears come instantaneously. How am I going to be able to fulfill my dream of going to college and becoming a psychologist? I can’t be raising a kid while going through years of study at Harvard to get my bachelor’s plus an internship. By the time I’d be done with all that my child is going to be at least 10 years old.

Damn him! Damn him and his boyish charms and his mesmerizing green eyes and his sexy as hell body.

“Damn you Dean Winchester! I hate you. I wish I’d never met you,” I scream into the fluffy cushion. “I hope wherever you are that your dick falls off and you can’t do this to some other poor girl!”

Fuck, is all I can think. How many girls had he done this to? How many illegitimate babies did he have? He had said his family traveled a lot so there were probably girls all over who were pregnant or had bared his offspring.

"Fuck," I sigh. "If I get an STD because of him I'll hunt him down and kill him," I growled. I begin punching the pillow, pretending it is Dean’s face. I can’t believe him. How dare he take advantage of me like that!

But then I realize, he didn’t take advantage; I clearly gave him exactly what he wanted. ‘Dumbass! I am such a dumbass. I walked right into his trap and didn’t even understand what I was getting into. I was so dumbfounded and surprised that he wanted to talk to and hang out with me that I just followed him along like a lost puppy. And then I gave him the one thing that I could never get back. All because of a few words and some attention. How much of an idiot am I?’

Shaking my head at my stupidity I head to the bathroom to clean off my face and get prepared to confess to my parents. They are going to be so disappointed in me. It’s going to break their hearts. I’ve been talking about going to Harvard and becoming a psychologist since I was in middle school and now that is just a pipe dream. It won’t ever come true now.

I don’t have much of an appetite so I just push my food around on my plate. I feel bad about it because Mom had rushed home from work and went straight to cooking and now my stomach is all twisted up and I can’t eat. It looks like they are about to be finished with their dinner so I decided no better time than the present.

“Mom? Dad?” I begin. “We need to talk.”

“What is it sweetie?” My dad says as he gets up to put his plate in the sink. “Did you get a C in class or something?” he turns back to the table with a jesting grin on his face. “You know you don’t have to be completely perfect in everything.”

Mom and Dad have been telling me for years that I was pushing myself too hard. That it doesn't matter to them if I get straight A’s or not as long as I don’t fail. But I wanted to prove to them, and myself, that I could. And so far I had; I am only a few credits shy of graduating high school with honors.

“Oh, I’m not perfect,” I tell him, looking down at my hands in my lap. “Far from it actually. I-uh-I have some not so good news. You might even call it upsetting news.”

My parents both look at me, perplexed. Mom speaks up first, “What is it Rebecca? Are you dying? Do you have cancer or something?”

Leave it up to Mom to think about a worse-case scenerio. Of course in her mind, the most distressing would be that I only had a few months to live. Which, in this case, it’s kinda true. A few more months and life as I know it is over.

I pull the positive pregnancy test out of my hoodie pocket and lay it in the middle of the table. Clear as day, anyone can see what it is. My dad suddenly sits down and puts his head in his hands and Mom…well, Mom stands up, looks at me with pity and walks out of the dining room. A few minutes later, I hear their bedroom door slam shut.

The commotion brings Dad out of his stupor and he looks up at me. “How did this happen, Rebecca?” I quirk an eyebrow at him at the absurdity of his question. “I mean, I know how it happened. When?”

“Back in October. I hung out with this guy and his little brother and we watched a movie and ate pizza and popcorn. After the movie was over, his brother wanted to go to the arcade and it left me and Dean in the room, alone. One thing just led to another.” I finish with a shrug of my shoulders.

And just like I assumed, Dad begins badgering me with questions. “Who is he? Does he know about the baby yet? Is he going to step up and take care of it and you?”

I sigh before I answer. “His name is Dean. Dean Winchester. No, he doesn’t know and probably never will. He and his brother were staying in the motel across town while their dad was working. He’s gone now. Left the day after. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

Dad and I sat there in silence after I told him about Dean and how he was no longer around. I can see the steps of processing Dad is going through on his face. At first he is angry, livid even. Then he is just mad. But what breaks my heart is when my dad looks at me and all I can see is disappointment.

I feel like such a failure. I failed my parents and myself the moment I allowed Dean to come into my life. The moment I had sex with him.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @markofdean79 @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @natura1phenomenon @drakelover78

#dean winchester #john winchester #sam winchester #wounded hearts #past haunts sequel #rebecca quentin #smut #fluff #angst #dean x becka #high school

12 notes · View notes

samingtonwilson · 4 years

Text

Apartment 8C - Chapter 4

The First, First Date

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE, the use of marijuana/pot/weed/reefer/that loud

A/N: i had a bad thought while writing this chapter and i’m not going to share it with y’all because that might put y’all off this story. actually fuck it, i’ll share the thought. isn’t it so weird how obsessed we all are with love? like these are college students with so much more happening in their lives but they’re sitting around and always talking about love. and a lot of us do that shit too. weirdos.

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky replies to it with a groan. A loud, I don’t give a fuck if the neighbors hear me kind of groan.

Slumped on the couch, phone balanced on his stomach and remote control set on his thigh, he very nearly snarls. He doesn’t bother to pick up either electronic as he stands, letting his phone fall face down on the area rug while the remote knocks against its corner with a clang.

His journey to the door is comprised less of steps and more of a slide, a glide, a bit of a skate. He’s thankful he kept his socks on and unlocks the door, eyes half-lidded and heavy head tilted back. “The delivery instructions said to text and leave the bag at the door, not to knock and make me get up.”

“That how you talk to delivery people? They should ban your sorry ass from Doordash.”

He straightens his head and glares at Steve— smirking, smug, smart ass Steve who holds a large brown paper bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. It somehow makes Bucky frown deeper. “You intercepted my delivery?”

“And brought you beer,” he holds the cardboard case up and shakes it, smiling.

That smile fades, however, when he pauses in thought for a moment. He frowns then, indignant. Pushes Bucky out of the way to cross the threshold into the apartment. “So, you know, you’re fuckin’ welcome, you ungrateful jerk.”

A sigh and Bucky shuts the door. He watches as Steve appraises the room and feels no shame at the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Instead, he rolls his eyes when Steve fully faces him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You clean out your fridge? It broken or something?” Steve asks. He sets the bag and beer onto the coffee table, shuts Bucky’s dead laptop that he hasn’t bothered to charge. Steve then places Bucky’s phone and the remote control on the couch and begins to gather the empty take out containers still cool from the refrigerator.

Bucky grits his teeth at the sight. “Steve, just— What the hell are you doing?”

“Picking all this shit up so we can eat and watch the game,” there’s a cheerful lilt through his words. He sends a smile Bucky’s way, humor in the blue of his eyes, as he passes to toss the containers into the trash. “Thanks for asking, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”

“I—” Bucky still stands by the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in incredulity when Steve crosses to the couch once more and falls into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “Steve, I’m not in the mood today, man.”

“In the mood for what?” The volume of the television is turned up, Steve hugs the elephant cushion to his chest. “You were gonna watch the game anyway, so was I. Might as well do that in the same place and eat a li’l somethin’ while we’re at it.”

Bucky’s sigh is one of defeat. He takes steps back to the couch rather than skating over, and sits beside Steve with a mumbled, “I didn’t order anything with your fat head in mind.”

Steve leans forward to pull the bag open, paper crinkling as he pulls a sandwich from the depths. He tosses what remains in the bag onto Bucky’s lap. “Stopped at a deli on the way here. Don’t know what the fuck you’re eating but it smelled like dog shit.”

He smiles to himself. Wryly. “What deli you stop at?”

“Shelsky's.” There’s pride in Steve’s voice. Arrogance in his posture. “I didn’t want to cheap out and settle for something worse.”

“That’s where I ordered from, you fucking snob.”

“Must’ve ordered something nasty then.”

A sarcastic hum of agreement and Bucky shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at the television as Steve flips through the channels in an attempt to find something more entertaining than the advertisements currently airing on Fox. “Why’re you really here?”

“It’s Thursday night,” he replies, using a keychain to pop the cap on a bottle of beer. “Titans are playing the Jags.”

“You don’t care about either of those teams.”

Steve drops his smile now. He scowls and settles back on Fox, unsatisfied. “Can’t a guy eat a sandwich, drink a beer, and watch a game with a friend without the third degree?”

“Couldn’t have done that with Sam?”

“I do a variation of this with Sam almost every night. Wanted to spend time with you today.”

“But—”

“Buck, for shit’s sake, let me be here for you without making us both live through me saying why.” He reaches forward to pull another beer from the carton, placing it in Bucky’s lap, and slouches back against the soft grey velvet. “And if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for that, too.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky asks, more rhetorical than expecting an answer.

There’s a pause as Bucky gazes at the television with practiced focus. His arms fold over his chest again. His knee bounces.

“She’s on a date,” he continues after the lull stretches for too long. “She was going to start dating eventually. I’m okay with it. Happy for her. T’Challa’s a good dude. Good looking, good soccer player. Smart. It’s nice. Good for her. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I’m happy for her.

“He actually came to the door. Didn’t text her to meet him downstairs, didn’t show up empty-handed. We both know how uncomfortable she is with actual romantic gestures and I guess he knows, too, because he gave her a Ziploc of peaches like she had in class the day they met. It’s nice. He’s a good dude. I’m happy for her.”

Through the thick silence that falls over them, Steve blinks. “Christ, you know you just spoke for a minute straight without taking a breath? I think you said ‘I’m happy for her’ thirteen times.”

Bucky’s inhale is loud and pointed, his exhale a huff. He’s no longer interested in eating the sandwich he’d ordered, suddenly full from all the leftovers he’d tucked into just minutes ago. All he wants is for Steve to leave.

Well. That’s not all he wants.

But it trumps his other desires. Momentarily.

“I know you’re happy for her,” Steve says as Bucky parts his lips to tell the former off. Bucky shuts his mouth now, though. And just listens as Steve’s voice grows softer, eyes no longer dancing in humor. “But I know you’re fuckin’ miserable, too.”

He knows there’s no point denying it. No point denying what’s so plainly written across his face.

But he tries anyway. “M’not miserable. I’m ha—”

“You can be both.” Steve, unwrapping the parchment from his sandwich, keeps his eyes on the television. “It’s possible to be happy for her but miserable at the idea of it all deep down. S’why I thought you might wanna move out.”

“She’d still go on dates if I’d moved out.”

“You wouldn’t have to watch her going on them.”

“I’m okay with her dating.”

“I’m okay with a lotta things, too. Doesn’t mean I wanna see it all happen in front of me.”

Bucky watches as Steve takes an impossibly large bite out of the sandwich, Russian dressing smearing over his lips. “I’ve got a date, too.”

“Buck,” Steve’s mouth is full. Horribly so. And Bucky scowls at the sound of his thick voice. “This ain’t a date. Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you. I just don’t feel that way about you, man.”

A sarcastic smile and even more dry laugh. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking about Connie.”

Steve scowls as he swallows. “That perky little brunette from the bar?”

“Perky?”

“I can just look at her and tell she was on her high school cheerleading squad.” Around another bite, he adds, “Seems nice enough, I guess.”

“She is nice.” He pauses only to mumble more to himself, “And emotionally available.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and briefly looks at Bucky in skepticism. “What, you determined that from just a few days of talking?”

“On the second day she told me she’s liked me since freshman year orientation.” He sighs your name then. Slowly. Laboriously. “She was somethin’ else entirely. You know how long it took her to admit she liked me?”

Steve nods upwards and flips the channel when the commentators on the pregame show begin to argue.

“Took her three months after we started dating to admit she liked me. And she never said it again after that.”

Steve drags the back of his hand over his lips, wiping off a bit of stray dressing. In visible disgust, he wipes his hand on the discarded butcher paper. “Some people show their feelings rather than say them.”

Bucky seems to smile at that. Unbeknownst to himself, there’s a slow grin spreading over his lips.

He thinks of instances. Instances when silence would act as a wall but actions a wrecking ball.

The morning after your third date when you’d tried your best— despite your absolute inability to cook— to make the breakfast he always orders at the diner in Astoria.

The eggs were runny in places, burnt in others and the bacon was traumatically floppy under a layer of not-even-close-to rendered fat and added oil. You’d apologized as he scrubbed the pan and plates, bright yellow dish rag waving as you insisted repeatedly that you couldn’t live if you’d given the guy you’d only just begun to date salmonella.

Independence day when you’d Irish-goodbyed from Steve’s birthday party only twenty minutes after arriving to steal away to the rooftop of Mama Wilson’s brownstone in Harlem.

You’d said something about fireworks and pizza, a six-pack of beer already snagged off the kitchen counter. Played it off as Sam’s idea, his house keys in the pocket of the navy blue bomber jacket you’d “borrowed” from Bucky. Nothing about Bucky’s hatred of parties at the Rogers-Wilson residence, though. Not even a hint until he overheard your apologies to Sam’s mother for the intrusion— an apology you later denied, kissing him silly to make him forget any further questions.

The week before you’d broken up— a week Bucky remembers less for the distance you’d successfully created— when you sought comfort in him after a long day.

Your boots had been kicked off by the door, your bag and its contents scattered beside them. You’d tearfully slurred words together, words he barely caught, in explanation. Something about work, and school, and your mother’s unnecessary opinions about your major and future. Something which forced sobs from your chest as you set your head against his. You’d wrapped your arms around him tightly, the two of you huddled together on his worn barcalounger as he stroked your hair and pressed kisses to the crown of your head.

It’s well after the game has ended— Steve vengefully chowing down on your once-hidden stash of This is for when I have my period chocolate, Bucky barely paying attention to the episode of The Office the two had resorted to watching— when you come home.

Hair mussed, lips swollen with gloss smudged every which way, you stumble through the doorway with a laughed, “No more rule-breaking on the first date, T’Challa.”

The door is shut and locked just as T’Challa begins to respond. You spin and press your back to it, still laughing but quietly, more to yourself. You open your mouth to greet Steve and Bucky, both looking at you in either confusion or amusement, but shut it as a knock at the door cuts you off.

“I’ll call you,” T’Challa promises through the wood. There’s a chuckle laced through his words, a smile in his voice.

Exaggeratedly, you scoff. Still grinning however. “Who calls?”

“I do,” he replies without concern that your neighbors may complain about his volume. “And you’re gonna pick up.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you are. ‘Night.”

You don’t respond beyond a hum and stand at the door until you’re sure he’s gone. A nod to yourself and you step away as you remove that navy blue bomber jacket to toss it onto the counter. You also toss a smile over your shoulder to Bucky. “You here just to eat my chocolate, Rogers?”

“No,” Steve says without a glance in your direction. “I ate your ice cream, too.”

You shut the freezer. Empty-handed. Frowning. “Your stomach’s just a bottomless pit, huh?”

“I’m a growing boy.”

“Have I told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you call your grown-ass self a boy?” you remark, settling for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. You pause before shutting the heavy steel door. “You clear out all the leftovers, too?”

Steve peers at Bucky, the latter stuck in a thoughtful, sad stare, and nods. “Yeah. We’re all out of food at my place and I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow night.”

You’re frowning in consideration as you walk to the barcalounger and fall into it sideways, legs swung over the opposite armrest you’ve set your back against. “Fair enough. How was your day, Buck?”

The question breaks him from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he blinks. Averts a steady gaze when you shift a bit to look at him. “The Jags won.”

You smile. It’s warm, a little honeyed. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neutral.” He can’t help but smile himself. It doesn’t even falter as he asks, “How was your date?”

A shrug. Your eyes narrow at Michael Scott as he attempts to toss pizza dough. “T’Challa got a large popcorn at the movies.”

“Damn, he’s got money.”

You laugh, startled. Bucky grins when you do, too. “That’s what I said! I also beat your high score at pinball in the theater arcade.”

“Went on a date with a guy who’s got money, beat my pinball score. You’ve just had a magical day, haven’t you?”

There’s a softness and affection in the way Bucky speaks and looks at you, your responding giggles just as sweet. Steve, sitting between the two of you, almost feels as if he’s intruding on something, an empathetic ache in his chest as he watches. “Explain the pinball thing.”

“Bucky and I went to the movies last month and fucked around the arcade while waiting for our showtime. And he got so competitive.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “We ended up missing the movie because he was determined to beat the high score this poor kid had just set when we got there. Took him hours and, like, forty bucks in tokens.”

“It didn’t take me hours.”

“We got there in the afternoon and by the time we left, the employees were cleaning the popcorn machines,” your expression and tone leave no room for argument. “Only took me two hours.”

Steve looks between you two, fighting the urge to scoff at the satisfaction in your eyes and the combination of annoyance and so much adoration in Bucky’s. “Two hours? You miss the movie again?”

“No, I snuck out before the movie ended. Said I had to pee and went straight to the machine so none of the kids in our auditorium could take it before I got there.” You ignore Steve’s disappointed gaze. “T’Challa was confused and probably unhappy I made him sit there for so long while I played.”

“Probably unhappy?”

“I didn’t ask.” A nonchalant shrug and you flash them a knowing smile. “Beating Bucky’s score was my priority so I could come in here and casually mention it like I’m not bragging only to bring it up everyday for the rest of his life.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and, at the look you’re giving him, Bucky has to remind himself that the two of you are no longer in a relationship and he can’t just kiss the arrogance away. “Sucker.”

—

It’s a makeup caboodle.

Pale pink and lime green. A tropical flower sticker pasted to the clasp. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle— deep magenta velvet in a neat bow.

It’s unassuming. A little innocent looking. Like it should belong to a seventh grader in the nineties just learning how to use glitter eyeshadow and lip balm palettes.

It’s when you pop it open, the mirror attachment springing up only to reflect Wanda’s skeptical features, that the pungent smell permeates throughout the kitchen and small living room. Skunky, but a little floral.

A speckled glass pipe, multicolored glaze splattered over a white base, sits in the top compartment alongside a few toothpicks and a package of rolling papers. In the compartment directly below rests a round steel grinder, three-tiered and emblazoned with the engravement of a manufacturer’s name.

The biggest compartment holds many small glass jars. Tiny mason jars you’d bought at a flea market. All different colors, all labeled with white circular stickers.

Wanda sits up in her stool at the sight, pulls the caboodle toward herself and sifts through the jars. She removes three of the jars and looks at you with widened eyes. “You’re insane.”

You shrug and take the grinder when she hands it to you. “I like being organized.”

“You should see her room,” Bucky says as he shuts his bedroom door behind him, shoes in hand. He smiles at the two of you, beard freshly trimmed to just barely above stubble and eyes a bright blue. “Most organized mess I’ve ever seen.”

You nod, tearing a bit of the sour diesel bud apart to place carefully between the metal teeth in the topmost chamber. You smile at her from your spot atop the counter, legs folded and back pressed against the shelves behind you. “There’s a method to my madness, Wan. Hand me a toothpick.”

She complies and removes a blue jar without a label. “What’s in this one?”

“Blue dream. Jar’s blue and I ran out of stickers.” There’s a click as the lid is magnetically snapped back onto the grinder. You twist it to the left twice, then to the right once. “You picking her up or meeting her there?”

Bucky, leant against the wall as he slips his shoes on, looks up. “What says ‘This is a real date, not a hookup’?”

“Going to dinner and not having sex after.”

He replies with a dry laugh and narrowed eyes. “Which of the two options— picking her up or meeting there— says that?”

“Picking her up.” You tear the stem off the bottom of the bud and place it as a barrier over the hole in the pipe’s bowl. “Might be too late to tell her that now, though.”

“Already told her I’d pick her up. I was just making sure I did the right thing.” You see his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk when you finish filling the bowl. “Looks like I did.”

You smile back, though sarcastically. “Girls like a little humility in the guys they date, you know.”

“She’s liked me for three years now,” he says. He pulls on a jacket and pats every pocket on him to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys. “She knows what she’s herself getting into.”

“Bucky, baby, I live with you and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.”

Wanda snorts a laugh at that, taking the pipe and a bright pink lighter from you.

Bucky’s eyes fall into a glare. “So normal first dates don’t end in sex?”

“No, they don’t. Most people actually wait until after the third date. It’s, like, in the dating manual for successful relationships.”

“Huh,” he breathes. He takes his phone when you remove it from the charger to pass it to him, smiling up at you. “Looks like we were doomed from the start.”

“Maybe.” You watch as Wanda exhales a steady stream of opaque smoke punctuated by a soft cough. You slide her bottle of water to her. “Or maybe we’re the exception to the rule. Apart, we should follow normal date conventions. But together, we were too hot to wait that long.”

Wanda hands you the pipe and lighter. “What happened to humility?”

Before sparking the lighter, you answer, “I’m not dating a girl.”

Your next inhale, once you’ve adequately charred the top layer of pot, burns in your throat and you hold it in your chest. You smile at Bucky when he shoots you a sly grin, lips in a cirlce as you exhale. “Have fun. Don’t order the tiramisu. They skimp on the espresso.”

He nods once and straightens his jacket. You watch as he unlocks the door, opens it, and steps through with a simple wave. Your eyes remain on the door even after it shuts.

It isn’t until Wanda’s fingers brush yours that you break your stare. “What?” the question is nearly barked when she offers you a look of something eerily similar pity.

“Nothing! You just— You look a little lovelorn.”

Your features crumple. “Ew. No, I don’t. I look amazing, you look lovelorn.”

“Okay, Queen of the land Defensiva,” she mutters once she’s exhaled. “I’m just saying. You were staring at that door like you want to take it home to meet your mother.”

“Maybe I do. It’s a nice color. I picked the yellow out myself.”

“Nat told me about that night at the bar. About how Bucky flirted with that Connie chick right in front of you.” She watches as you take a hit and your head lolls back against the shelves. “That must have sucked.”

“It did.” You trace the bumps on the ceiling and sigh. “But it’s okay. Larger picture, broad scheme of things. It’s okay.”

“What’s that mean?”

A shrug. You take a sip from your own bottle of water. “We’re both okay. We’re both moving on, we’re still able to be friends and roommates. I can sit here and watch him go on dates with her if that’s what it takes. A little pain for the larger cause.”

There’s a beat of silence as Wanda takes a long drag. You break it as you muse, “Do we talk about this shit too much?”

“Yeah, maybe. Should we order a pizza?”

CHAPTER 5: ARE YOU OVERCOMPENSATING?

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #a8c

428 notes · View notes