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cosmos-coma · 10 months ago

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My Sun, My Star

A/N: I'm so weak for Winter soldier Bucky. I cant wait to write more of him, I love this sad guilt ridden man.

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 6756

Warnings: Breaking and entering, Minor violence, Injury and Blood, Winter soldier Bucky, GN reader but also Pregnant reader, mild language, I'm not sure if this is fluff or angst or both??

Summary: You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

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Your eyes blinked slowly, heavier with each passing second, yet you still managed to open them once again. Glancing at the bright white numbers of the digital clock you watched it change to 1:46 AM, causing a groan to pull from your lips. Bucky was supposed to be back tonight (yesterday technically) from his latest mission, but he still had yet to show up at your shared flat.

You checked your phone again, the lack of notifications mocking your tired eyes. You let out one more sigh before you turned off the mindless babbling of the TV and stood up to get ready for bed. You were sure Bucky wouldn’t want you waiting up so late in your current condition anyway, he had been harping you about getting enough sleep and water and everything in between.

“I’m only four months pregnant, Bucky. I’m fully capable of staying up late” You had said to him.

“Five months, Doll, and it’s about your cortisol levels. It’s not good for you or the baby, and it could lead to them being underweight” he said, reciting exactly what the doctor had told him during your last checkup.

“Four and a half,” you argued as you stuck your tongue out at him, “and she was talking about getting chased by a bear kind of stress, not staying up to watch Bake Off.”

You snorted at the memory of just earlier that week, a small smile coming to your face as you went through your nightly routine. You continued to check your phone here and there as you went, “Did you get back safe? How’d your mission go?” you had texted two hours ago, yet it still remained unread and unanswered.

‘Maybe one more quick text wouldn’t hurt,’ you thought to yourself as you typed out the simple message and hit send.

“Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

You sighed as you set the phone down, “it’s okay, everything is okay,” you assured yourself as you pulled one of his large hoodies over your head, enjoying the way the hem brushed against your bare thighs and the sleeves threatened to swallow your hands. “He’s a former assassin and a super soldier! Nothing is going to happen that he can’t handle,” You stated firmly to your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes remained unsure despite your voice’s conviction, but you did your best to ignore it, focusing instead on the achingly tired look they held.

“Yes, I know. It’s finally time for bed, little one,” you mumbled sleepily as you felt your baby kick against the walls of your protruding belly, being quick to climb between the layers of blankets and lonesome sheets. “Fuck, that's cold…!” you swore quietly as your bare legs hit the icy fabric- having gone unwarmed by your personal space heater and super soldier.

Thankfully sleep came easily, the thought of waking up to Bucky’s sleepy, scruffy face only further urged your body to wind down so the moment would come sooner.

----

Bucky’s phone buzzed again in his bag, lighting up with your smiling face as your text displayed on the screen, but nobody reached down to check it, as everyone found themselves in a far more urgent situation.

“Keep him busy, Rodgers! I just need one more minute!” Tony yelled as he dug through the equipment in the quinjet, “For fuck’s sake, who organized this last?”

“What do you think I’m doing…!” The blond grunted with a justified hint of frustration,” Sam? Any help??” He shouted with a pointed look, telling more than asking as he struggled to restrain his thrashing friend. A swift metal fist flew toward his already battered face, barely giving him time to duck out of the way and attempt to restrain it again.

“Honestly? Seems like you’ve got this one,” Sam said, holding up his hands.

“SAM.”

“I’m coming..! God, can’t either of you old men take a joke?”

No one knew exactly what happened, Bucky had gone off on his own in the Hydra base they were exploring. It was supposed to have been recently abandoned, something about the agents leaving in an urgent rush that left files upon files sitting out in the open. It was supposed to be a simple mission; everyone goes off in teams, gathers what they can, and makes sure there are no surprises. But Bucky assured them that he would be fine to go on his own, he hadn’t had a sign of relapse in over a year, and he would only be picking up what looked important. A simple job.

He should’ve listened.

It was when he didn’t return to the jet with the rest of them that they started to get worried.

“So, where’s the Manchurian candidate?” Tony jested, looking at his watch. They were supposed to leave maybe 10 minutes ago, not terribly late by any means, but enough to start getting worried about Bucky’s quietness over the coms.

“Man, come on.. ” Sam sighed at Tony’s joke as he crossed his arms.

“Bucky?” Steve tried calling over the coms, ignoring both of his teammates, but the line remained all too quiet.

They found him finally in the basement level of the office building, old discarded computers lining the walls along with cabinets upon cabinets of old files and other equipment. He hadn’t even realized it was a trap until he stepped right into it, triggering a switch that had the computers and hidden speakers flashing images and sounds that assaulted his senses with fragmented memories long forgotten.

He should have listened.

Sam had found him first, on his knees in the middle of the floor with hands desperately covering his ears, trying to block out the incessant noise. Hauling his teammate to his feet, he rushed back to the jet, calling everyone off from their search before anything else could be sprung.

At first, they thought he might be fine- quiet, but fine. He had given them a small smile and a wave of his hand as everyone tried to check in with him, taking a seat as the jet took off to go home. It had all seemed relatively normal until they were halfway back and the unseen battle inside him must have taken a turn.

“Got it!” Tony yelled as he pulled out the dart gun, aiming quickly as he fired two shots into Bucky’s chest, readying a third as he waited and watched for the tranquilizers to finally take effect. It was slow as Bucky continued to struggle against the drug’s drain, his body and mind turning into slow-moving molasses. Low grunts emanated from his throat as the last of his strength ebbed away, leaving nothing but forced sleep in its wake.

“Was two really necessary?” Steve asked as his shoulders finally relaxed, the strain and worry now temporarily over.

Together they dragged the drugged-up assassin into the jet’s small quarantine area for the remainder of the trip, satisfied only when they heard the mechanical locks slide into place. It wasn’t much, and they knew that and if he really wanted to there would be no stopping him from getting out, but it was something- enough to give them a few seconds of preparation if nothing else.

“I’m not giving a super soldier only a single dose, you two metabolize things like this way too fast and I’m not taking any chances with the Tin man over there.”

Bucky- no, the Winter Soldier, seemed to still be out of it when they finally landed, sat up and leaning against the wall, head slumped forward just as they had left him.

“Alright, let's just get him into one of the holding rooms for the night. We’ll work on resetting him-” Tony lifted his hands as the two men glared in his direction, “- on ‘fixing him up’ as soon as he’s been secured.”

Sam shook his head as Tony corrected himself, taking notice of the lit-up phone in Bucky’s bag, buzzing with an only recently delivered message. Sam had quickly become one of your closest friends after you were introduced to the team. He was one of the few people Bucky trusted with his life and between his sarcastic jokes, his incredibly loyal nature, and his willingness to give Bucky shit whenever he deserved it, you knew very quickly how great a friend he would be.

But now his stomach twisted as he saw your name flash across the screen, the alert quickly minimizing itself as it joined the other messages you had sent that night. How was he gonna break this to you? The last thing you needed was a bunch of unnecessary stress on your shoulders, but it’s obvious you were beginning to worry over their late return. Sliding the phone back into its rightful place Sam told himself that he’d call you once they had things more figured out.

“Heart rate still seems to be resting. With any luck, he’ll remain knocked out until we get inside,” Tony relayed as he monitored the Soldier’s vitals and pressed the button to open the heavy quarantine doors.

The doors slid into their resting positions with a soft click.

As soon as that click landed on sensitive ears, vibrant blue eyes shot open. Sparing not even a second, the Winter Soldier surged forward from his seat, not nearly as far gone as he left them to believe. With the element of surprise, the Soldier easily knocked past his teammates, throwing his body weight against them and knocking Sam and Steve off balance, leaving him a good headstart as he dashed out the jet’s open door.

“Fuck, Bucky- Wait!,” Steve swore as he stumbled out behind him, having to use his super soldier speed just to keep pace. But between the settled darkness of the night, and the winding alleyways the brunette stuck to, Steve was left falling behind in no time. “Shit,” Steve swore as he slowed to a stop, looking around for any sign of his compromised friend.

However, the streets lay barren, the fluttering of moths in the streetlights the only sign of life on the entire block.

---

The heavy thud of his boots echoed against the alleyway’s pavement. He wasn't sure where exactly he was headed as his silhouette slunk between the warm light of the streetlamps, but part of him- a currently repressed part of him- knew that safety was bound to be just ahead.

His heart beat smoothly as he kept his pace, every other step falling in time as he rounded the corner. Blindly, he let himself be led by instinct and his feet maneuvered the city’s countless paths with a mind of their own. They slowed before a little apartment building and as those emotionless eyes looked up, he knew this was it.

The lateness of the hour had almost assured that no one was around as he slipped inside, footsteps padding up the stairs before stopping at the third floor. His heavy boots left nothing but wet prints in their wake as he wandered down the hall, impossibly silent, as even the notoriously creaky boards dared not announce his presence.

The closer he got, the more the back of his mind itched, as if something- someone- was begging him not to go any further, but he refused to listen; he knew this was where he was meant to be and where he would find what his body was so inexplicably drawn to.

With each step his head turned on a swivel, looking for the sense of safety and familiarity that the other half of him seemed to find here- and desperately wished he wouldn’t discover. Just as his foot was about to take another step he stopped. ‘No. Here.’ His gut told him, turning to the door.

His door.

Your door.

The former assassin bypassed the lock with ease, quickly slipping in before shutting the door behind him. A dim light illuminated the living room, the little lamp you left on for him casting its orange glow over his surroundings as he surveyed them.

A few mugs stand beside the sink, framed photos dot the wall and side tables, and a veritable nest of blankets lay across the couch. It was obvious someone had been here, and recently. A deep breath pulled into his lungs, causing his head to tilt to the side in contemplation as an unfamiliar scent hit his nose, something just as earthy as it was sweet and speckled with distant notes of… him?

“Hmmph”

His sensitive ears picked up the soft grunt from down the hall immediately. His shoulders squared and tensed as his body leaned into a defensive position. Cautious fingers pulled the knife from his boot, ready for whatever may come at him as he approached.

The sounds of soft breaths lead him to a door left ajar. Light just slipped past the curtains into the darkened room. Badum… Badum… Badum… a heartbeat pulsed in his ears as he took a step closer, leaving the door open and letting further light fall onto the source of the noise.

His wolfish gaze ran down your form as you lay there on your back, swallowed in the extra fabric of the old sweatshirt. Your hand rested casually over your stomach as your other one squished gently against your cheek. Your legs lay bare to the world after having kicked the overbearing sheets away, leaving just a glance of your underwear for him to take in.

“Mmph” You grunted again as you shifted, your face now turned to him as that earthy scent of yours gripped him like a vice and refused to let go.

Your sweet sleep became interrupted though- much to his dismay- as the phone on your nightstand began to light up and buzz incessantly. Still, as a statue he watched as you groaned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you went to check what your device could possibly want at this ungodly hour.

With one loose fist, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes away, blinking consciousness back into them until you saw Bucky’s illuminated figure before you, standing tall and quiet as he watched you intently.

“Bucky..?” You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face as you saw the familiar face of your lover lit up by the bright light of your phone screen. But the longer you looked the more you noticed.

His eyes were all wrong, his gaze was devoid, that’s the only way you could put it. Devoid of meaning and humanity, it seemed every gaze- every movement- was a means to an end. Empty… save for a flicker of fear; It was probably the only thing in those eyes right now that registered as human. The fear of someone who was lost, unknowing of their purpose, and confused as to why your gaze was made his cold heart falter.

His expression was flat and stoic, save for the knit of confusion that pulled his brows together. His stance was tense and prepared, the discrete knife still glittering in his hands as he took another step forward, his head slowly shaking in response to your question.

A gasp caught in your throat as you finally understood. Glancing at your phone you saw it was Sam who was calling, undoubtedly trying to tell you what you now already knew.

“Soldat…” You whispered, trying to hide the way his name sent shivers across your skin. Your phone went black then, as you didn’t pick up in time and you were left blind by the sudden darkness.

You and Bucky had talked about what to do if you found him like this, “You call Sam and Steve, Okay? You find a place to hide and you stay far away, no matter what you hear. There’s no reasoning with him,” He had told you.

So much for that

Your phone lit up again with Sam’s urgent call, its revealing light sending ice down your spine as you saw the man nearly standing over you now, just a hair’s breadth away.

Your hand rose slowly, shaking as you tested a reach for your phone, stopping dead in your tracks as he let out a disapproving grunt. Your head nodded slowly as you gulped, returning your hand to your stomach as you watched his gaze finally shift away.

With unbothered calmness, he looked toward your phone to see Sam’s face and name scrawled across your screen. Wordlessly he reached over and pressed the ‘decline call’ button, cutting the call short and leaving you two in perfect silence once more.

Panic began to rise in your throat as his gaze turned back toward you, darkened now only by the lack of light. With slow movements the Winter Soldier reached out, putting the knife away as he crouched down, as if trying to attract a skittish animal.

Your whole body tensed as his reach came closer, eyes screwing shut as you waited for the worst, “Please… Just don’t hurt her…” You whispered, fear and desperation rattling your voice, just as it did your anxiety-filled body.

But the pain never came. Instead, the cool touch of metal fingers ran down your cheek, barely denting your flesh as he relished in its softness. Your eyes peeked open cautiously, as his fingers moved along the slope of your jaw, tilting your head up as he came to your chin.

His eyes had changed, you noticed, instead of being a harsh blizzard, they had now settled into something more human, something warmer and… yearning?

“Soldat..?” You questioned as you watched his lips part, his senses focused only on the way your body reacted to his touch. You were sure he could hear the rapid pattering of your heart beneath your ribs, its pace only increasing as his fingers moved down your neck and to the exposed collarbone in your loose neckline.

“Красивый [Beautiful]...,” was all he could reply. It came out so soft you weren’t sure you heard it at first, it’s quiet reverence meant for your ears and your ears only. “Из-за тебя он чувствует себя здесь в безопасности...? Замки дерьмовые, видимость слишком высокая, но ты… [Are you why he feels safe here…? The locks are shit, the visibility is too high, but you…]” He continued, quiet and unbothered as if he assumed you couldn’t understand him.

“He’s been bugging me to get better locks all week…” you replied with a huff, quickly shutting up as his stare found your eyes again. Between Bucky’s ramblings in the night and Natasha’s tendency to only gossip in Russian, you had made an effort to learn it; You were still learning, and your pronunciation was shit, but your understanding had gotten far better.

“And you have a good ear…” He spoke in English this time, the vague hint of an amused smile pulling at the assassin’s stern lips. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever done that before. If that odd little smile had been seen by anyone else- anyone still living that is.

A breath of relief left you as your lips stretched to mimic his, the tension easing out of your body a little by little.

His metallic touch continued to linger, running down your covered chest until it settled on the waistband of your underwear, the cool metal trailing across your ticklish skin.

“Ah, wait, Sol-” You jumped at his touch, grabbing his wrist, despite knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to stop him if it’s what he wanted.

But instead of dipping his fingers lower, he simply tugged the oversized hoodie up, gathering it over your chest and exposing the firm baby bump concealed below. His head tilted to the side as he listened to the tiny heartbeat that fluttered in your belly as well as the thuds of its little movements against your skin. Slowly, still with that inkling of a smile, he turned to look at you, his hand hovering just above your vulnerable midsection as if awaiting permission.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you hesitated. On one hand, you felt a surprising amount of calm under the assassin's touch, his need for your approval only increasing your sense of security. But on the other hand, Bucky would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you or the baby, accident or not.

“Oh. I-”

CRASH.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as were cut short by the loud noise. The door to your apartment slammed open, surely breaking the hinges with the sheer force of it. Over a dozen heavy boots stormed into your apartment as the lights turned on, flooding your senses and forcing the Soldier’s attention elsewhere.

Your hand found his instantly, the heat of his calloused skin a comfort to you just the way Bucky’s was, especially as it squeezed around yours just the same. Sitting up properly now your sweatshirt swallowed your pregnant form once again and you peeked out to see just what was going on.

Through The Winter Soldier’s defensive stance in front of you, his knife is now drawn once more, you watched a small armed group, covered in black tactical gear raid your home, all guns pointing towards you- or more accurately- the former assassin attempting to shield you. You recognized the symbols on their vests as the team’s secondary security force, having even met a few of them over the years. But where was the rest of the team? Where was Sam, and Steve, and Tony?

“Step away from the civilian!” “Put your hands in the air!” “Sir, drop the knife!” They all shouted, overlapping with each other as each of them rushed out their demands.

“Don't shoot! It’s okay! It’s okay!” You rushed.

You tried to slip your hand from his, but he only held fast, “Soldat, please… It’s okay, just do what they say… They don’t want to hurt us. Please,” You urged, giving his hand a gentle squeeze,

His defenses faltered as he listened to you beg him to stand down. It wasn’t the usual begging he heard in his line of work, and coming from your lips had his walls cracking in an unprecedented way.

He shouldn’t have looked back at your eyes, wide and pleading, as they shook his walls further. Moving slowly he turned, kneeling before you despite the way the armed group yelled at him not to. You just held up your hand to them, pleading for them to be as gentle with him as he was with you.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” The warm flesh of his hand came up easily to cradle your face and a small smile pulled at him again as you leaned into his large palm. “Я только что нашел тебя. Я не потеряю тебя снова так быстро[I’ve only just found you. I will not lose you again so quickly]. ”

Your heart both swelled and pained for your Soldier. You looked into his eyes and saw a sense of certainty, a sense of knowing, you hadn’t seen from him earlier. “Oh… my soldier, my star,” Your fingers entwined with the hand holding your cheek, ”You can not lose me in any way that would last…” You whispered to him past the shouts, the commotion, and the tension, like you were the only two in the room.

“Sir, put the knife down!” A young squad member called again, his voice far more concerned than his superiors. You didn’t recognize him or his number and you figured he must’ve been new. His gun trembled in his hands as he shouted again, but as the Soldier failed to move and the kid’s finger unexpectedly twitched, there came a sudden-

BANG.

“Ah-!” Your face twisted with pain as you pulled away, “Fuck…!” Your hands instinctively grabbed your leg, clamping over the shooting pain in your calf that hit you- well- like a bullet.

You winced again as you pulled one of your hands back, the raw skin of your leg angrily letting you know that it did not like being brushed against. Warm, wet crimson covered your fingers as you looked down, becoming slightly dizzy at how much had already covered your palm. You were thankful it only seemed to be a graze, but the burn you already felt and knowing you were losing blood had your stomach lurching in uncomfortable ways.

Concern painted the assassin’s expression as you recoiled away from his doting touch, but as the unmistakable warm, metallic smell curled into his nose, his expression darkened dramatically. What was once kind, curious blue eyes now saw nothing but red as he caught sight of the wound slashing across your skin. His jaw set firmly, almost audibly grinding his teeth as he stood and turned to the young kid.

You looked back at the newcomer as you tried to breathe through the pain, the horrified look on his face telling you that he knew he was a dead man walking. His face went ghost white as the super soldier stalked toward him and through even worse trembling hands he raised his gun to shoot again.

“No…!”

A sickening thud rang out as the bullet hit the assassin square in his good shoulder, getting lodged in the muscly flesh. His shoulder jerked back at the force, but it wouldn’t stop his stride as he closed the gap. Another shot rang out, but with the solid vibranium arm now covering the barrel it did little to help this poor dumb kid. Snatching him by the neck, you watched as your assassin held him up until his feet kicked uselessly in the air.

Every gun immediately trained on him and with their proximity you knew they wouldn’t miss a fatal shot if it came to it.

“Stop! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Soldier, put him down!” You yelled as you maneuvered towards the edge of the bed. “Please, don't shoot, I can fix this!” you continued, trying to convince yourself as much as you convinced them. Familiar voices joined in on your plea as Sam and Steve finally entered the picture, urgently trying to talk down both the Winter Soldier and the secondary security team.

“Bucky, It’s okay... Just put the kid down, alright?” Steve tried to reason with him, “He’s new, he doesn’t know what he’s doing yet.” Steve tried his best to stay calm and patient, but the young man was beginning to change colors now. “Bucky, put him down before you do something you can’t come back from.” But Bucky’s ears were deaf to the outside pleas and the Winter soldier refused to listen.

“Ah..!” You whimpered as you tried to stand and approach the commotion. The pain in your leg reached new heights as you tried to put weight on it, causing you to tumble to your knees almost immediately. You clutched your belly, hoping the sudden jostle wouldn’t upset the baby too much as you tried to get up again.

“Hold on, Y/n. Stay down for a minute so we can wrap your leg…” Sam asked of you, moving over to help as soon as he saw the blood on your hands, “You’re losing plenty already.”

“No, I have to…. I can’t let him get hurt,” you argued, pushing away his helpful hands as you tried to stand again. You heard the crashing thud and rushed voices as you shakily got to your feet, leaning all your weight on your good leg. As you looked up again you came eye to eye with worry-filled icy blues.

“Sol-”

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” He interrupted, his metal arm snaking around your waist to pull you in possessively and away from those who threatened your safety. On the other side of the room, the nervous kid now coughed and wheezed for breath, but you were just happy to see he was still alive.

“Please just listen to them. You’re already hurt, don’t get yourself killed…” you pleaded, your hand barely brushing over his bleeding wound before pulling his hand to your rounded belly. He tried to keep his expression steady, but you saw the way his eyes widened slightly as he looked down. “She needs someone looking out for her and I can’t do this on my own. I can’t keep away all the dangers of the world…” Your forehead rested against his as you tried to shift your weight, whining as you gave up and moved back. You couldn’t deny that this part of Bucky was her father too, even if he had been hidden away for ages, she was still his too. Whether Bucky would see it the same way you weren’t sure, but right now you were just concerned with making sure he got out of this alive.

“I can’t do this without you…”

The silence felt deafening as he considered. He never had to think about other people relying on him, not like this. His orders had always been to leave no threats, to finish his job and move on, no matter the cost to him. But the pain in his soft, fleshy shoulder was getting harder to ignore. The way his blood-soaked shirt clung to his arm now climbed to the forefront of his mind as he watched your big eyes stare back at him, desperate to understand. He was between a rock and a hard place.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time..” You assured him, “We both will, but please let everyone get us some help.”

A gentle nudge pushed against his palm as his thoughts swirled around him, snapping him back to a single line of thought and he knew then. Defeat laid heavy on his shoulders as they slumped, accepting what must be done., “Мое солнц [My Sun] …”, He said, “Если вы так хотите, то я не буду жаловаться [If it is what you wish, then I will not complain].”

You couldn’t tell just how long you had been holding the breath you let out, your muscles relaxing as he finally held his hands up. The security squad began coming forward with an array of cuffs, but it was Sam who stopped them this time, glancing back at you for confirmation as he assured them that they could take it from here. Despite the arguing and the hesitation, they seemed to relent, shifting their focus now to their injured colleague.

Both Sam and Steve looked tired but relieved as they turned to the two of you, bloody and pained in your current state. Though they weren’t quite better; both of them looked like they had been the unfortunate punching bag of a certain super soldier mere hours before. Sam had bruises lining his arms from where he was surely blocking blow after blow and Steve smiled a bit with his busted lip, dried blood still stuck in the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s get you two to the tower…”

----

The journey to the tower was quiet, your soldier never letting you out of arms reach as you all boarded the armored truck, and made your way up the tower and to the lab.

Doctors tried to treat the both of you, but as soon as anyone dared to come close your assassin was right there to growl them back. They’d hardly be able to get past his possessive hands even if they could manage to get close, his touch keeping you pulled beside him at all times.

“Soldat…” you warned him, but he was too preoccupied gathering the medical bag they had been dropped. Coming over to you, there was no warning as he scooped you up from the ground and set you on a table to get to work.

“Oh-!” You exclaimed as you held onto his strong shoulder, quickly getting plopped back down on the corner of the cold metal table. A shiver ran down your skin as you shifted against the sleek table, watching as practiced hands scoured through the medical bag, producing everything he needed as he went about fixing up your leg wordlessly.

You were beyond thankful for the haze of the (baby-safe) painkillers as his fingers slid over the raw flesh. Despite the gentle numbing of the painkiller your fingers still lay tangled in his hair as he worked, only tugging in discomfort as the gauze wrapped tightly around your leg.

"Thank you..” You said when he finally finished, moving back to appreciate his work before giving it a satisfactory nod. His eyes had grown distant again, bits of confusion and uncertainty swirling in the storm of his eyes, and you reached out to stroke your thumb across his cheek. His stony cool expression remained as you touched him, his mouth staying a firm line as he instinctively leaned into your palm. You watched him for a moment before you continued, knowing that his thoughts must be far away.

“It's your turn now, big guy.... your shoulder is still seeping and you can’t keep losing blood like this," You urged him just as you had on the ride to the tower. He had refused to listen then, letting nothing else occupy his mind until he knew you were fully taken care of. But now as you sit safely before him, the only looming threats being Sam and Steve who seem to haunt the hallway outside, he finally relented.

You moved to stand, needing the angle to effectively dig out the bullet still lodged in his muscles, but he held you still with a single large hand on your shoulder, "Stay," he urged you with that low rumble of his. His eyes lingered on yours, ensuring you would do as he asked before he began to move again, gathering the supplies you would need.

He slid his bloody shirt off, revealing the weeping wound beneath and the scars of many wounds past. You expected him to stand in front of you, maybe sit so you could take care of him, but that didn’t seem to be the important thing right now.

He climbed up onto the cold table where you sat, curling onto his side with his back facing the door so his wounded shoulder sat closest to you. His head lay in your lap with a look of unmatched serenity as he pressed his forehead against your rounded belly. And there he rested, quiet and unmoving as he took his quiet moment. But he was far too exposed like this, far too trusting of “threats” lurking outside, and he almost reminded you of Bucky again. Was Bucky fighting to come back…? Was the Winter Soldier trusting you to watch his back? … or was he accepting of something you weren't sure he knew yet?

"Are you sure? It's going to be harder to take the bullet out this way. I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to," you tried to explain as you pulled out the forceps.

But he simply shook his head, "I know my time here is short, my Sun..." he said with an even tone, no semblance of fear to shake his voice, "Please let me enjoy it like this…."

Your voice caught in your throat as he answered, his blunt acceptance and knowing catching you off guard. You wished beyond anything that you could soothe him, to tell him no one was going to hurt him or take him away again. But you wouldn’t lie to him, so instead you said nothing, Your words rasping as you replied, "Of course, My star…."

The room was quiet as you worked, the only noise the sweet mumblings from your boyfriend's lips as he filled your baby’s ears with loving promises. His body let out a grunt and a soft squelch as you finally tugged the crushed bullet out. Pain creased his brow but his words never faltered and neither did the nudges or kicks he got in reply.

Carefully you cleaned up the blood, packing the wound as best you could, but you were sure Tony and his team would be redoing it soon nonetheless.

A sigh escaped him as he heard you putting away your tools, "My Sun?" he asked.

"Yes?"

“Is it time…?”

You cast your eyes downward, looking into those confused and swirling blues as they watched you with unbridled hope.

You nodded, wiping away the tears that welled in your eyes, “It’s time…” you whispered.

He nodded, thinking quietly as he looked down at your belly again, his hand smoothing over the skin he’s exposed, “Will I see you two again…?”

Your heart broke at the slight waver in his voice, “Oh, my star…” you said, resting your palm against his cheek, “It’s just like I said, ‘you can not lose me in any way that would last’. I’ll see you again and again, in this life and the next,” you assured as you leaned down to kiss his temple, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. Tears blinked from your eyes as you continued, “I don’t know when, or for how long, but you will see us again. You can always come home to me, and I will always be there to welcome you.” You leaned, slow as not to scare him, and kissed him gently as he turned again to look at you.

It was awkward at first, but you didn’t mind, you couldn’t imagine the last time the Winter Soldier had felt such gentleness, let alone a kiss.

But the moment was ripped away as the door opened, Steve, Sam, and Tony all standing in the doorway. “We’re ready for him,” Tony said simply, “Let's get this started so my lab techs can go home….”

-----

You watched behind thick glass as Tony and his team of technicians attached various wires and machinery to Bucky’s body. Sam and Steve’s hands lie on your shoulders, trying to comfort you as you watch them finish tuning and placing everything. You watched as his blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, as still as a statue as he let them do their work.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to watch this…” Steve tried to comfort you, but you only shook your head.

“No… I promised I’d see him off,” you replied, then thought with a pause, “Despite all the warnings Bucky gave me I’m happy I got to see him face to face…”

“Well, it helps that he wasn’t trying to beat the shit out of you…” Sam mumbled, getting an immediate nudge from you right in one of his bruises, “ Ow…okay, point taken.”

You smiled and shook your head. It was true though; despite the fear, blood, and death that dripped from his moniker, despite the pain you endured in his presence, you would do it all again. Bucky had hidden this part of him from you for so long, only ever showing you half of his face. And though you know he wouldn’t like it, you’re happy to finally see him in full light- to know and love him completely as he’s meant to be.

Tony says something that’s hard to make out through the glass, but you see him give a thumbs up to you all so he must have been ready. He moved to the switch, hesitating for a moment to let you say a quick goodbye.

Your Soldier’s eyes found yours right away, but there was no trace of sorrow for you to see, no discomfort or fear. In fact, he seemed almost excited; excited and hopeful that when he saw you next he’d have a bundle of joy to look forward to as well.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” you watched him say beyond the glass.

“I’ll see you again, My stars. I’m sure of it…” You replied with a soft smile.

He had just enough time to smile softly back at you, an image now pleasantly etched in your brain before Tony flipped the switch and the reset procedure began.

You covered your eyes quickly as Bucky’s body began to convulse, his strained grunts and shouts breaching containment despite the way he tried to hold it all back. The sounds of pain continued for minutes, but it felt far longer. Though, it wasn’t until it got quiet that you began to worry.

“Is it done? Is it over...?” You asked the men on either side of you, afraid to peek past your hands for fear of the worst.

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, gritty and rough from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled, “Bucky...?”

_____________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @simpxinnie (sorry I forgot to tag!)

It's been a while since I've written for our favorite sad man, so if I've missed you/you want to be added to the taglist, DM me to let me know!

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delusional-day-dreamer · 5 months ago

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First. Love. Part² - p.b

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‣ paige bueckers x oc

‣ wc: 12079 (this took me way too long but I got carried away...)

‣‣ synopsis: background on paige and jenna's relationship, how they met, fell in love, and how paige ended up becoming jenna's first heartbreak and eternal muse.

‣‣‣ a/n: So High School Part 2 will be out soon (i have no idea where to take the plot in that series 😔), this is sort of a filler chapter in between the podcast episode in part 3 to give context. EDIT: I changed Jenna's major to be Business Economics with a minor in Film, Television, and Digital Media because it's more relevant for the later plot!

June 30th, 2016 (summer before freshman year; 14 years old)

Jenna's POV:

You didn't know how much more of this stupid city you could handle. You had just locked your front door behind you as you left to go to the pool inside your new neighborhood, excited to read a book you had bought the other day while sunbathing on a lounge chair.

Your parents had just uprooted your life and moved you from San Diego, California, land of sunshine, beaches, and only a small amount of criminal activity, to middle of nowhere Hopkins, Minnesota, right before you started high school with all of your old friends.

Of course you understood that this was for the better of your family, both of your parents had gotten new jobs at a huge hospital with far better pay than their previous ones, they found a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood close to what was going to be your new school, and living in your dad's hometown meant being close to his family.

However, none of these facts soothed the bitter taste in your mouth that formed at the thought of having to be the new kid, having no friends to hang out with for the rest of summer or to start school off with, no job or classes to distract your never-ending train of thoughts, and you didn't even have a sibling to act as your built in friend.

Regardless, you tried your best to adjust to your new, albeit lonely, life by distracting yourself as much as possible. Your parents had re-enrolled you in music lessons the same week you finished moving into your house, gave you an allowance to buy new clothes and hang out at the local mall, as you very quickly realized your Californian wardrobe would not fit the Minnesota weather, despite it being summertime (although you hadn't gone yet as you hated shopping alone), and you had even been going to the pool frequently with the hopes of meeting kids close to your age.

And it just so happened that today, your prayers had been answered. As you were walking down the street, the door to a house you had just crossed by across the street had barely opened before a small boy barrels out, closely followed by a taller, blonde girl who appeared to be around your age, locking the door behind the two of them. You weren't able to put a finger on it, but there was simply something about the girl that was mesmerizing, just a quick glance at her had you wanting to know more.

You had always known you liked girls to some extent, you always found yourself gazing at the t.v. in wonder at the beautiful girls displayed upon the screen. However, it wasn't until probably a hundred, "Am I Gay?" internet quizzes later in seventh grade you recognized the fact that you were queer and were in fact attracted to girls, you just didn't bother telling anyone about this revelation.

In particular, the girl in front of you invoked millions of questions that raced through your mind: who was she, was she your age, was she going to the same high school as you, and most importantly, why was she so pretty? Her blonde hair cascaded down her back with a slight wave to them, her white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts draped over her tall frame, and her voice that rang out as she scolded the little boy who ran in front of her to the end of their walkway.

God, her voice was the most intoxicating thing you had ever heard, luring you into her like a siren's song to the depths of the ocean. You swore you were floating at the twinkling sound of her laughter echoing around the block as she joked with, who you head her refer to as, her little brother.

You snapped out of your stunned daze and continued walking forward as she followed her little brother onto the main sidewalk, now almost parallel with your frame. You were mentally counting your blessings that she hadn't looked up enough to see your stalker-esque figure staring at her, although you were praying that she happened to be going to the pool as well (definitely not so you could look at her some more).

Truly, God had decided to pay special attention to you today, as your blonde neighbor grabbed her little brother's hand as she crossed the street, making her way towards you. You couldn't help but glance at her as she approached you, and you were taken aback by the shockingly blue eyes that met yours. You gave her a tight-lipped smile as she stepped up to the sidewalk just behind you, hoping your internal panic wasn't apparent on your face as you faced forward once again.

Your focus on taking deep breaths in and out to not embarrass yourself in front of the first person your age you've even made eye contact with in the last month is interrupted by the little boy running past you, gently bumping into your leg as he brushes past you. His short legs are working overtime to maintain a pace faster than both you and the pretty stranger, who had now jogged up next to you to keep close to her brother.

"Drew the pool isn't gonna run away by the time we get there, you gotta slow down buddy," She called out to the curly-headed child, turning her head to peer slightly down at you.

"Sorry about him, he gets really ahead of himself sometimes," She apologized on his behalf, her eyes scanning over your face. Before giving you a chance to reply, she continued on. "Are you new to the neighborhood? I don't think I've ever seen you around?" She questions, your heart slightly speeding up at the undivided attention she was paying to your face.

"No yeah I am, I just moved here from California," you replied, tucking your hands into the pockets of your shorts to avoid any nervous flailing.

"No way, that's so cool, I've always wanted to visit. Did you live next to the beaches? One of my old friends went there for vacation and she loved it, like she wouldn't shut up about how nice it is over there. I think she went somewhere close to LA. Wait are you going to the pool too?" Her outgoing demeanor surprised you. You had only seen her for the first time a minute ago, and she was already carrying you into a conversation about your old life.

"Yeah I did and I am, I lived in San Diego so the beaches there were really nice compared to the northern part. I miss being able to go there all the time, so I guess for now the pool will just have to do," you joked back, and your heart fluttered at the smile that broke out on her face.

It had appeared that you made your first friend in Hopkins, Minnesota, and unbeknownst to you, she would quickly become your first ever best friend. Then your first girlfriend, your first love, and then slowly, your first and last heartbreak.

April 4th, 2017 (spring break, freshman year; 15 years old)

Paige's POV:

"Dude there's no way you think pancakes are supposed to be better than waffles, they're so boring," I protested on my bed next to Jenna, rolling onto my stomach towards her and propping up my elbows so I could look at her. Jenna had somehow become my best friend within the span of two months during summer, and although I was unsure of when and how her presence became so prominent in my life in such a quick span of time, I was nothing but grateful.

We had started high school together and even had a class together everyday, which was a saving grace for both of us. She came to every single one of my home games this season, even some of the closer away games. She made it to more of my games that any person in my family did, which surprised me, but she just was always there for me somehow.

I was never the best at making friends outside of basketball, the sport was my comfort zone and it was always so much easier to relate to my teammates who felt the same. Yet, me and Jenna just clicked, despite our many differences. Hanging out with her quenches a thirst within me I didn't know I had. A thirst to be seen, to be heard and known, a desire for someone to see me past all my future athletic potential and to just see me, and without fail, she did that for me. Every. Time.

One of the things we discovered early into our friendship, the first time she came over to my house to hang out, were our matching initials. PB and JS, which we affectionately coined to be our nicknames, Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich (pretend pazzi does not own this nickname). Jenna always says that our matching initials are a sign from above, a sign that we're meant to stick by the other's side. We even bought matching necklaces with our initials over winter break as a mutual Christmas present, mine was silver and hers was gold.

Our parents loved the nickname as well, joking that it's the reason they can never separate us, as you just can't have one without the other. Our families somehow became intertwined over the course of our friendship as well, trading in between carpool duties, spending long weekends and the occasional holiday together, and even coming to cheer me on at my basketball games or watching Jenna's dance recitals from the class she took instead of P.E. We all even went out to eat together to celebrate me and Jenna's small freshmen year milestones, like our birthdays.

Hers was a bit before mine, September 21st, 2001, which made her just slightly older than me. Apparently according to the Minnesota school laws or whatever, Jenna is supposed to be in the grade above, but California has different age cutoffs so she's one of the oldest people in our grade.

She confessed to me before school started that she was nervous about being the eldest out of everyone, but I reassured her by saying that it just meant she could drive the two of us around and do a bunch of other things before everyone else could. That really helped.

She even let me into her secret world of music, I knew she took classes but until she played and sang for me, I didn't realize just how good she was. She was fairly shy when it came to her talent, and almost never played in front of people she wasn't comfortable with, which is why it felt like an honor when she played a song on the piano or guitar for me, or sang for or with me, whether it was playing from the radio or something small she wrote.

But the thing that really brought us closer together was when Jenna's parents had to go out of town from time to time for their medical conferences, which left her home alone. When she was younger, she always used to go with them, as missing school wasn't that big of a deal. But now, she ended up refusing, insisting that she would be alright home alone.

This didn't fly with either of our families, and our parents eventually came to the conclusion that Jenna could just stay over at our house when needed. It wasn't like me and Jenna didn't have sleepovers all the time anyways, and both me and Drew loved having her over. She even met my Mom and my two other little siblings, Ryan and Lauren. The three of them immediately took to her the way I did, entranced by her presence. She loved hanging out with them too, since she was an only child.

There was something about Jenna that somehow attracted people to her. Maybe it was her welcoming presence, the way she made you feel like the most important person in the world with the way she looked at you, or perhaps it was something appealing about her appearance. The small makeup she put on and the way she spent extra time styling her hair was always unnecessary in my opinion, I always thought she was the prettiest person in our grade.

Sometimes I wondered if the two of us were truly best friends. I know friends hang out a bunch like we do, they don't mind changing in the same room or even in front of each other, and they definitely feel comfortable enough to cuddle together in bed or while watching a movie. Right?

But sometimes I swear there's a weird fluttering in my stomach when Jenna's bare legs drape over mine on the couch, or sometimes my heart skips a beat when we're getting ready for bed and she just pauses while changing her shirt, intent on continuing our conversation even while standing in just her bra.

But it's okay for friends to do that right? I mean, I've only ever had crushes or thought boys were attractive, so everything I'm feeling is probably just from the fact that I've never had a best friend like Jenna. Sure, I've had a bunch of friends and teammates I'm really close to, but me and Jenna spend all of our time together, and there's almost nothing we wouldn't do together. Sometimes, we just take turns showering while the other person stays in the bathroom just so we can keep talking.

Which led the two of us up to now, spending spring break sprawled out on my bed at 9pm, arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were better. We never had any real arguments, but with me and Jenna both being super competitive and never wanting to be wrong, we always had long discussions "fighting" about meaningless topics.

"Pancakes are so much smoother and like, enjoyable to eat compared to waffles, plus waffles end up crispy at the edges and they just end up tasting weird," She insisted, adjusting herself from her back to her side so she could argue with me face to face.

Her hair fell over her shoulder when she moved, leaving her shoulder exposed as her, no, my sweatshirt had slightly slouched down as it was big on her. Jenna wasn't exactly short, she was around 5'5, it's just that I happened to be even taller.

"Girls, come down for dinner please," my step-mom yelled from downstairs before I could even snap out of my distracted state to argue back.

"Coming Mrs. Bueckers," Jenna took the initiative to yell back slightly when I didn't respond in time, still in shock as to why I ended up staring at my best friend, distracted by her bare shoulder in my clothes. Me and Jenna always shared clothes, we even kept clothing and toiletry spares in each others rooms for spontaneous sleepovers. So why was her wearing my sweatshirt, in my bed, so different this time?

Whatever the reason was, I didn't have time to even think it over before Jenna got up from next to me, grabbing my hands with hers so she could yank me up as well, complaining that she was hungry. She kept our hands interlocked as we left my room, walking down the stairs hurridley. It was a miracle she didn't notice that for some reason, her soft, warm hands in mine had left a barely noticeable blush on my cheeks.

October 28th, 2017 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Come on J hurry up, it's just a stupid party," Paige walked into your bathroom as you were almost finished curling your hair. "I'm on my last section P chill, I'll be done in a minute," you reassured her reflection. The two of you were invited to a Halloween party, but apparently you weren't supposed to dress up since technically it's not Halloween yet? (skinny jeans were the shit in 2017 but I can't bring myself to write that that's what they're wearing 😔)

You were both confused about it but the junior who invited you guys, Alexa, was one of your friends from math class. You were sat together on the first day and despite both of you struggling here and there, you often got the concepts a little bit quicker than her, so you always helped her when possible. And in return, she got the two of you an invite, well technically she invited you but everyone knows you and Paige are a package deal, to one of the biggest house parties of the school year.

It was also going to be the first party you were ever going to, and you both agreed to not go overboard on the drinks, since your aunt cristina, who was visiting, was going to pick and drop you in her car. Your mom's sister couldn't have chosen a better time to come visit, as both of your parents were working the night shift tonight and Paige's parents allowed her to sleepover at your house since your aunt was supposed to "supervise".

"See, I'm ready, let's go," you told Paige as you finished your hair with a thin layer of hairspray, moving past her into your room to grab your phone and keys. Your parents had gotten you a used Ford F-150 truck (so gay) so it would be easier for you to drive to school, with Paige of course, since they both started working longer hours now that you were old enough to take care of yourself and so that they could retire earlier.

You both made your way downstairs to your Aunt Cristina on the couch, watching tv while waiting for you to finish getting ready. "Ready to hit the road girls?" She got up to turn off the tv and grab her things from around the living room.

"Yup, thank you again for taking us, and for not telling our parents," Paige responded on your behalf as well. It was typical of adults to love Paige, she was always the most respectful and responsible kid in their eyes, even when thanking your aunt for driving you to a party so you could drink responsibly.

"No problem, I'd rather you girls be safe while having fun, no point in sneaking out if I'm here for you," She joked as you moved to get in her car, and within ten minutes, the three of you were pulled up outside the address Alexa had given you.

"Now please just remember to be safe, have fun, drink responsibly, don't leave your drinks unattended, don't try drinks from random people, keep your phone on you, don't leave each other's side," Your aunt was rambling off safety rules to the two of you in the backseat. You thought it was ironic she had to mention for you to stay together as if you ever left each other's side anyways.

"Yes Auntie C of course," You promised her as you moved to open the car door, "We'll be safe and I'll text you, love you, thanks, bye!" You closed the door the second Paige climbed out from the backseat, eager to walk into the house you could hear music blaring out of.

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting pressed up together on a couch in a crowded living room, two red solo cups in hand with sprite and vodka. You and Paige were tipsy from the past two hours of drinking, a warm fuzziness settled into our brains, making the circle of people around us funnier than they probably were.

"No you know what we should play, seven minutes in heaven!" A drunk junior called out mid-conversation. You weren't really absorbing anything that was being said around you until that, and the loud cheers that erupted from the living room at the suggestion.

"Everybody gather around in a circle on the floor, whoever spins it has to go in the guest bedroom with the person it lands on for seven minutes," Alexa called out to everyone as she reached for an empty beer bottle behind her, before moving to sit on the floor.

"D'you wanna play?" Paige asked quietly next to you. You could tell she was hesitant on joining, and would only sit down if you went with her or dragged her with you.

"Why not, what are the chances we get picked anyways?" You decided, downing the last sip of your drink before setting it down on the floor, pulling Paige off the couch with you and into the circle.

"Before we start," Alexa loudly interrupted the conversation of the circle as she placed the beer bottle in the middle, causing everyone to quiet down and listen to her. "If you get picked to go in the room, you do not, and I repeat do not, have to do anything. The room stays unlocked the whole time, and you can't force the other person to do anything, even kiss," She insisted, making eye contact with every person in the circle before sitting back down in her spot.

"Agreed?" She asked everyone, and only allowed the game to start after hearing a response from everyone.

The game started and by the fourth round, everyone except one couple had clearly used the seven minutes to their advantage, coming out with tousled hair, bruised lips, and one girl even came out with a visibly red hickey on her neck. You and Paige had yet to be picked, and you felt a sense of relief that the two of you got to participate without having to actually play the game.

But, you suppose you must have spoken (or thought) too soon though, as you watched the next guy spin the bottle, and it slowed to a stop, the neck pointing right at you. Encouragements and cheers burst from the circle, urging the two of us to go in the room. You recognized who he was from around campus and his games, a junior volleyball player.

He got up from his seat, walking across the circle to you, and offering his hand to pull you up. You looked over hesitantly at Paige, who was barely meeting your eyes and had a small, tight-lipped smile on her face. Ignoring her reaction, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to hoist you up, dropping it the moment you stood in front of him.

You walked into the room first, sitting on the desk pushed up against the wall as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you, leaving a foot of space in between you two, presumably waiting for you to give him some sort of indicator.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't really mind but I wasn't really planning on getting picked and I'm not comfortable, like, kissing you or anything so if you want to pick someone else I get it, I just don't want to," the nervous ramble poured out of you without constraint, the alcohol you had consumed making you more open-lipped than normal.

"Hey it's cool, you heard Alexa, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he shrugged, moving to take a seat on the edge of the queen bed in the room.

"Oh, thank you, I guess. I didn't think you would be so cool about your turn being wasted," You settled on top of the desk properly, turning to face the boy who was surprisingly chill.

"Nah it's whatever, I just broke up with my girlfriend like a month ago too, so I don't really care. I'm Jeremy by the way," he introduced, bringing one foot off the floor to rest over his other knee, leaning slightly back onto the bed.

"I'm Jenna, this is my first party so I wasn't really sure how all of this was gonna go."

"Jenna, I swear I've heard your name before," he paused, thinking for a moment. "Ohh, you’re the one who's friends with the basketball girl, Paige something right?" He suddenly remembered.

"Yeah I came with her tonight, she's my best friend," You smiled, talking about Paige was one of the easiest things in the world for you. You knew everything about her, inside and out, and majority of people knew you through her, since her athleticism made her quite popular around school. You never minded being known as Paige's best friend though, you knew you had your own identity and Paige always reminded anyone who referred to you as that, but there was a certain comfort that your friendship was strong enough for even a stranger to know that about you.

You and Jeremy continued small talking about school and a little bit about his ex-girlfriend before a knock rang out from the door, signaling that your time was up. He got up before you and held the door open as you walked out, instantly being bombarded with excited whoops and teasing "oooo's" as you walked to join the circle again.

"We didn't even do anything, guys" Jeremy emphasized to the circle, attempting to calm the rambunctious circle.

"Then why is she red as a tomato? The girl couldn't be blushing harder if she tried," a random girl in the circle yelled out, revving up the groups fever.

"She's like sixteen, chill out. Besides it's probably cause all of you," Jeremy backed you up as you walked over to your previous seat, but before you sat back down, you realized Paige was no longer there.

"Where did Paige go?" You asked the group before the next person could spin the bottle, causing eyes to shoot up at you.

"She went to the kitchen for a refill, so probably still there," Alexa informed you. You nodded at her before walking away, searching for your missing best friend.

You didn't have to look for long before you found her taking a shot in the kitchen with two other random girls, her face souring heavily at the alcoholic taste. You knew Paige hated the taste of alcohol and was never one to submit to peer-pressure, so why was she taking a shot of tequila with strangers?

"Hey P," you walked up to her, resting your hand on her bicep to draw her attention to you.

"Hey J," she responded dryly, but her voice was slightly slurred, moving her arm out of your hold to swap out the shot class for a full solo cup you could only pray she filled herself.

"You wanna leave soon? It's already like one ish?"

"Sure, whatever," she took a long sip from her cup, downing half of whatever she had poured in it.

"Okay, we can wait outside, let the cold air sober us up a bit before Auntie C gets here," you gently pried the red plastic cup out of her hand before grabbing her hand and leading her out to the living room, saying bye to the small amount of friends you knew before walking outside.

The two of you settled onto the edge of the curb at the ending curve of the sidewalk, just far enough from the house to get a little quiet. The stuffed house had been slightly humid, and the light breeze was a refreshing contrast to your previous environment.

"How was it?" Paige's question broke the quiet but tension-filled bubble the two of you had formed.

"How was what?"

"Your seven minutes in heaven," Paige drunkenly mocked.

"P, we didn't do anything. Like, anything anything," you were confused at her attitude, did she know something about Jeremy, or dislike him for some reason?

"You, you didn't kiss him?" The shock was apparent on her face. "The second you left everyone was talking about Jeremy and Jenna kissing in a tree, it was really annoying," she grumbled, you concluded that the alcohol she had consumed must be what was making her weird.

"No way P, I don't want my first kiss to be like that. Forced and with someone I don't even know, let alone like," you scooched closer into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You awaited a response from her but never get one, she simply leaned her head on top of yours as you waited in a comfortable silence for your ride, which came quickly.

*small time skip*

You had just finished your short skincare routine and were finally ready to climb into bed with Paige, the long night had taken its toll on you, and you were ready to collapse into the warm embrace of your best friend. But tonight, when you laid down next to her in bed, she didn't immediately cuddle into you like she always did, remaining flat on her back, staring at your ceiling.

Instead, she turned over to face you, only a few inches of space were left in between your faces as she whispered to you, "Why didn't you kiss him?"

Her question shocked you. The two of you rarely visited the topic of romantic relationships or feelings of the sort, and both of you agreed that you weren't interested in the thought as of right now.

"I," you paused. You had never officially come out to Paige, afraid that once she knew you liked girls, your every move would be scrutinized and judged, and your relationship would never be the same. But surely, you insisted internally, Paige wasn't going to be like that.

"I wasn't really interested in the thought of kissing a guy," You quietly admitted, rolling back over onto your back to avoid her gaze.

"Oh." That was it? You basically just came out to her and that's all you got?

"Would you ever kiss a guy? Or just," she paused, the hesitation clear in her voice. "Just girls?"

"No I would kiss both, I just don't think I want my first kiss to be with one? Or at least not Jeremy," you confessed quietly, turning your head back over to look at her. She was staring intently at you, scanning your face.

"Who would you want your first kiss to be with?"

"I don't know, but at least with someone I'm close to. Have you ever," you waited a moment before finishing your sentence, taking a deep breath in between your words.

"Have you ever thought about kissing girls? Or a girl?" You whispered, watching her slightly panicked reaction.

"A few times, but I've never kissed anyone either, so I don't know," Her eyes darted in between your eyes and down to your lips. "What if you kiss me? Just so we can both have our first kisses with someone we know," in retrospect, you should've thought harder before agreeing to kiss your previously assumed straight best friend. But her offer set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks flushed deeply as you nodded.

You shuffled closer to her in bed, such that there was barely an inch of space separating your lips. "Are you sure about this?" You whispered, staring down at her lips while reaching your hand to cup her jaw, the other arm bent at the elbow to support your body above hers.

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at your own lips, slightly moving in until your lips grazed against hers. You pressed your lips a little firmer into hers, slanting your head further as your lips barely opened. She moved in tandem with you, her hand resting at the nape of your neck as she kissed you back.

Your kiss only lasted a few moments, pulling back the second you registered the taste of alcohol still prominent in her mouth. You realized it was possible that the only reason your best friend asked you to kiss her was because she was drunk, sixteen, and very single.

"This isn't gonna be weird tomorrow is it?" Your brows furrowed as a worried expression settled into your face.

"No, why would it? Friends can kiss, besides we just won't make it weird," she promised. And despite knowing it was a stupid idea, an even stupider statement, you agreed. Collapsing down back onto your pillow, you opened your arms for Paige to snuggle into you, and the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

February 3rd, 2018 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Paige's POV:

It was a relief to finally find a quiet moment to myself, even if it was at three in the morning in the middle of my living room couch. Everyone in my house was asleep, including Jenna, who was still snoring when I extracted myself from her arms. The ac vent aimed straight at me caused me to pull the blanket tighter into my body, despite the pajama pants I was wearing and one of Jenna's hoodies.

We were almost done with basketball season and were currently playing our conference games, and were thankfully on a streak. And yet, the pressure inside of me continued to build, the need to be perfect and to support and carry my team throughout our games constantly weighing down on me.

Of course my teammates, coaches, family, and my other friends were supportive of me and encouraged me to try my best, and that no one expected perfection of me. But for whatever reason, I couldn't get rid of the anxiety that was constantly taking over my brain, sending me into spiraling panics over my future and my performance.

But throughout the past few months, the only person I felt like I could truly breathe around was Jenna, my lifeline. Despite not being involved in basketball in any way, she understood me and what I was feeling. She confided in me about her having chronic anxiety (GAD) the first time I slept over at her house, when I saw her medication on the dinner table.

She taught me breathing exercises and calming methods, held and comforted me when I cried in the middle of the night from the constant mental pressure, and even told me that I should slide around my initial charm on our matching necklace since it was a better nervous habit than biting my nails.

Even besides that, her presence in itself was a comfort to me, even if I wasn't yet sure of how deep my feelings for her went. She was the first friend I ever said "I love you" too, and I think the same goes for her. And it is true, I do love her with my whole heart, I would do anything she asked or needed of me, I just wasn't sure to what extent this love went.

Along with that, I was still unsure of where I stood with my sexuality. Before Jenna, I never thought about girls in a more than platonic way, but from the first few months of getting to know her, to our first kiss together (still the only time I've ever kissed anybody), to even now, where she was cuddled into my chest a mere thirty minutes ago, I felt electrifying sparks course through my body at her touch, she could make me blush with the most innocent of looks, and she made me giddy in a way even basketball didn't.

But despite all that, it's normal for best friends to love each other? It doesn't automatically mean being gay or being in love, you could just deeply care for the other person. Besides, Jenna never brought up the kiss again, which meant it had probably only happened due to both of our inebriated states.

It was as if my deep train of thought about her cause her to miraculously appear, I knew it was her just from the footsteps upstairs, the way she gently walked down the stairs to avoid a creaky step, and the way her sock-covered feet padded over to the couch, grabbing a throw blanket for herself before taking a seat in the corner end of the couch next as me.

We sat in silence as she reached over to the side of the couch, pushing the button to recline the seat back, unfolding the blanket and covering her bottom half before patting her lap for me once she was fully adjusted.

I all but threw my head into her lap, facing her body, as I extended my legs out onto the rest of the sofa as I moved my arms up hug the tops of her legs as her hands came up to gently scratch at my scalp, playing with my hair in a way that immediately relaxed me into her.

"M'sorry if I woke you," I whispered into her stomach, even though I wasn't actually sorry. I was selfishly happy that she came downstairs for me and would give up anything for us to have more of these quiet moments together, her attention solely focused on me.

"S'okay P, you technically didn't. I felt the bed was empty and then my spidey senses told me you were thinking too hard again, so I came to convince you to come back to bed, but then this beautiful couch looked way too comfortable, so we can just spend the night here," she sleepily mumbled, looking down at me sprawled out onto her lap.

"Tell me who or what is stealing our sleep so I can beat their asses," she joked quietly, her hands coming to rub at my temples.

I sighed, it felt as if her hands were physically melting the pounding in my skull, my headache nearly subsiding just from her touch.

"Just stressed out about everything again y'know? Basketball, school, life, kind of everything," I admitted quietly. The one thing I hated doing, was talking about things that bothered or upset me, it always made me feel weak.

"Hey, we are all so proud of you P. We all know how hard you're working and even though you feel like it, I promise that it's not all up to you. All the people around you love you, and we're all here to help if you need it. You just say the word and we'll all line up for whatever you need," she reassured me, only slightly teasing as her fingers moved to pinch my cheek lightly before moving back to my hair.

"Yeah I know, God really blessed me with you guys. Especially you, I don't know what I would do without you," I murmured up at her, smiling at her sleepy but happy expression.

"Yeah yeah, just say you love me Paige," she poked fun at me quietly, letting her head drop onto the cushion behind her without breaking eye contact with me.

"Hey I do love you J, I say it all the time," I retorted, using my fingers to draw small shapes on her pajama-covered thighs.

"Well I love you too P," her hands smoothed over my hair as she bent down to press a kiss on my hairline before reaching back up to settle into the couch.

"Just trust me, you just need to do all you can so God can do all you can't," she muttered, closing her eyes as she leaned her head slightly onto her shoulder to get comfortable, all without stilling her hands' movements in my scalp.

"Hey that's a sick quote, I'm stealing that from you for my interviews," I teased groggily, the lack of sleep slowly overcoming my voice.

"You can have anything you want from me P, you already know that," she didn't open her eyes when she said that, but I could hear the sincerity in her tone even without looking at her.

The two of us slept the whole night in the exact same position, unaware of everyone waking up to us cuddling on the couch together. My eyes only fluttered open at the sound of quieted laughter and the shuttering of two cameras pointed at the two of us.

As I rolled my head out of Jenna's lap to look at whoever had caused the disturbance, I squinted my eyes to see my dad with his polaroid and Drew using someone's phone. I groaned, burying myself back into Jenna, I probably would never hear the end of this, but it was alright, because it was with Jenna.

July 4th, 2018 (summer before junior year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Jenna you need to slow down, I don't want you to throw up or anything," Paige insisted as she walked up to you, pulling you away from the living room of the house party you were in, preventing you from throwing back another shot. The party was hosted by a senior at the end of your neighborhood, just walking distance from both of your houses.

"What's your problem P, I'm just having fun," you argued back, doing your best to enunciate your words to prevent having a slur, knowing she would cut you off immediately if you got too drunk. You were pretty good at holding your liquor, somehow being a natural heavy-weight when it came to drinking.

"Come on Paigey, just lighten up a little, it's the fourth of fucking July, have fun with me. Ooo, we should do a shot together," you elbowed her side jokingly, looking up at her hesitant expression with your best puppy dog eyes.

Her concerned expression softened, you knew it was wrong of you to take advantage of the fact she could never say no to you, but she was the reason you were adamant on drinking to the point of memory loss tonight.

As shameful as it felt to admit it, your best friend had been haunting your every waking moment for the last few months, and you were desperate for an escape from your own thoughts. You always knew you felt something deeper than friendship for Paige, the way your heartbeat would speed up at every touch of her hands, the way you found yourself unable to tear your eyes off of her, on and off the court, and especially, the way you could not escape the mental replay of your kiss.

The press of her soft lips against yours, the slight vanilla taste from her chapstick you so often borrowed, the way the skin of her jaw felt so soft in the palm of your hand, and the way your body melted into hers, pressed against her warm figure.

So, like any reasonable sixteen year old, you were determined to get absolutely shit-faced tonight, to the point where you wouldn't even be able to remember your own name. And the only way that would happen, is if Paige stopped monitoring your every sip of alcohol.

"Okay fine, one shot, but that's it. We can't both be super drunk," She relented, allowing you to pull her back into the kitchen to pour yourself shots.

And just to your luck, Paige had run into a few friends and teammates, leaving you alone with a few class friends for what she intended to be only a few minutes, but ended up being a little over half an hour. Those thirty ish minutes were all you needed to take two more shots, chug one whiteclaw and two beers, and finish a cup of a vodka sprite.

By the time Paige came back, still mostly sober, she was pissed to see that you were plastered, hanging off the shoulder of some guy she could recognize, but was too mad to focus on. She couldn't figure out why you were drinking so much tonight, despite her warning, you were practically making yourself sick for the next day, and you wouldn't even tell her the reason you had been off lately, brushing it off with some bullshitted excuse of school or your parents.

"Yo, who's the blonde chick staring at you?" The random guy you were talking to asked, nodding his head towards Paige, who was leaned against one of the kitchen counters and boring holes into the guy's head.

"Paigeyyy," you called out, lifting your now very heavy head from his shoulder as he pointed out your best friend who was now within eyeline, a deeply annoyed expression settled into her otherwise soft features.

"Hey me and Jenna are gonna head out, it's already past two and she's clearly done drinking for tonight," Paige announced to the group of friends you were hanging out with as she moved towards you, gently guiding your arm over shoulder and pulling you away from the other guy.

"Hey she's fine," the guy you were previously all over slightly slurred, "What are you her babysitter or somethin?"

"Dude worry about yourself, you look like you’re two seconds away from passing out," she snapped at him before walking away, supporting around half of your weight as the two of you exited the house.

"You're always so good to me Paigey, always my taking care of me," you drunkenly mumbled into her shoulder, pressing yourself further into her in an attempt to warm yourself up with her body heat. The summer night in Minnesota wasn't too bad, but your lack of a jacket wasn't helping.

"We'll reach your house in like five minutes, you just gotta walk till there okay?" She spoke firmly, avoiding glancing down at your slouched figure attached to her.

"You're always my best girl," you continued your drunken ramble.

"Always there fo' me, you cuddle me and you kiss me, and you even walk me home," for some selfish reason, she didn't have it in her to stop you. She knew it wasn't fair to you, letting you pour your innermost thoughts or feelings out to her when you weren't in the right state of mind, but she couldn't bear to stop the compliments gushing from your mouth.

"No need to date anyone in the whole wide world when I have you. You're so much nicer than the other girls. Or boys. And prettier. You're the prettiest out of all of them. So pretty, even when you're all sweaty and gross in basketball. You even kiss nice, don't wanna kiss anyone else after you kissed me," she finally cut your mindless babble into her neck off.

"We're here, I need your keys," her voice was curt, almost like she didn't want to be with you anymore. You lifted your head out of the crook of her neck to fumble around the pockets of your jeans, finally pulling out your lanyard and holding it out for her.

She took it from your grasp quickly, unlocking your house and helping you in to take both of your shoes off and lead you up into your bathroom, sitting you on the closed toilet as she went into your room to grab a change of clothes for you.

You leaned your head back in the two minutes she had left, closing your eyes and barely drifting off when she re-entered the bathroom, waking you up so she could help you change and take off your makeup.

It wasn't until you were sitting against the headboard of your bed, watching her move around your room to collect stray clothes from the floor into your hamper that the two of you finally spoke again.

"Paigey are you mad at me?" the nickname slipped from your mouth once again as you questioned her quietly. Paigey was something that usually only Drew called her regularly, but for some reason it was the only thing you referred to her as when drunk.

"Yes Jenna, is that what you wanna hear? That I'm fucking pissed off at you? You've been acting weird for the last like, two months. And no matter how much I try, you won't open up to me, it's frustrating me," she exclaimed pausing her movements around the room to rant to you despite her better judgement telling her she shouldn't talk to you about this while you're drunk.

"And then tonight you're all over some random douche, pretending like everything is fine when you know it's not. Then you start spewing that bullshit about me I know you don't mean because you're drunk."

You stayed silent for a few moments before you responded, "'M sorry, I shouldn't have shut you out for something you didn't do. But saying I don't mean what I said? That's not fair and you know it."

"Stop it Jenna, I think that you should just go to sleep. You're so drunk, you're not even coherent anymore, and I don't want to have this conversation with you like this,"

"What if I just wanna tell you how pretty you are, or how nice you kiss? Or that I love-"

"Stop Jenna, please just stop," Paige shut her eyes, her voice sounding nearly painful.

"Please J, you're drunk and you don't mean it. You can't say things like that and not mean it to me, I can't take it," she begged.

"If I say it to you tomorrow will you believe me?" you whispered, hesitating before continuing.

"If I tell you I love you tomorrow, will you say it back? Will you mean it the same way I mean it?" you pleaded with her, desperate to hear that she felt the same way you did, that you weren’t the only idiot who had fallen in love with her best friend.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch," she muttered, walking out of your room and closing the door behind her. You could feel your heart sinking, the tears burning in your eyes, threatening to pour out at the smallest movement.

You stare at the door for a few minutes, praying that Paige would change her mind, burst back in and say that she did love you too, that you weren’t alone. She would pull you into her, kiss you stupid, and cuddle you for the rest of the night.

But she didn't and you eventually cried yourself into an uncomfortable sleep, tossing and turning the whole night.

***the next morning***

Your eyes fluttered open from the sunlight beaming through my half-closed curtains. Your head was pounding, threatening to split in half as you turned over, burying yourself into the pillow underneath your comforter.

You tried my best to recall what had happened last night that left you nearly dead the next morning. As you fought to focus despite a dry throat, aching body, and throbbing head, a specific moment came pouring back.

There was no fucking way.

You told Paige, presumably straight Paige, your best friend ever Paige, that you loved her. You had gone on a whole fucking tangent about how pretty she was, how nobody could compare, and the fact that you loved her.

You shot up in bed, fighting every painful twinge in your body to reach for your phone, when you saw a water bottle with two advils on your nightstand. You quickly chugged them as you reached for your phone, unplugging it from the charger. That was something you had most definitely not remembered to do last night.

At 7:21 in the morning there was only one text from Paige.

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Peanut Butter 💜: Hey, my step-mom called me over to help her clean some stuff up. You went pretty hard last night so I left some water and painkillers for you, make sure you take them and eat breakfast. I'll see you later yeah?

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Fuck, did she not remember what had happened last night? No, that wasn't possible, she barely drank. Did she want to pretend like it never happened? Was it because she didn't feel the same about you? As it was, she didn't allow you to finish saying you were in love with her, and it wasn't like she said it back. Was she trying to avoid ruining your friendship?

She had texted you almost three hours ago, which meant your parents had to already be back from their night shift and everyone in her house was probably awake.

You threw your phone out onto your bed, slamming yourself back down and under your covers.

What were your options here? Either pretend like it never happened and continue hopelessly pining after your best friend, confess your feelings only to get rejected and ruin your friendship, or the least likely of them all.

You told her and she felt the same.

You thought long and hard about what to do. As much as it would hurt to only be something, continuing to hide your feelings, it would be worse to be nothing to her, right?

But if it had slipped out of you once, wasn't there the chance it could happen again? What if it was even worse the next time, what if it was in public and everyone ended up finding out.

It would be better to own up to the truth now, right? Right? Right, you decided.

You finally mustered up the courage to leave the safe haven of your bed. dragging yourself to the bathroom to freshen up (ESPECIALLY BRUSHING YOUR TEETH) before quietly exiting your house, walking across the street to hers.

You knocked on the door firmly, knowing the Bueckers weren't the biggest fans of using the doorbell.

"Jenna," Drew exclaimed as he opened the door for you, allowing you into the house you had quickly claimed as your second home.

"What's up little man," you greeted him while taking off your slippers, "Where's your sister?" You asked him.

You had made it a habit to call Paige, Drew's sister, when talking to him. You felt bad that people always mentioned him as Paige's little brother instead of taking two seconds to learn his name, so you always made the effort to make sure he felt seen.

"She's in her room, she said she was feeling weird when she came home and she won't leave her room," he told you.

Shit, that meant she did remember what had happened. Well, it was now or never.

"Thanks Drew, Hi Mrs. Bueckers," you waved to her in the kitchen as you made your way to the stairs, bounding up two at a time to reach Paige's room faster. Her door was shut when you reached, and you knocked lightly on the wood.

"Hey P, it's me," you called out through the closed door, waiting to hear her mumbled, come in, before turning the knob. She was laying down in her bed, putting her phone down as she looked up at you.

"How you feeling Jelly? You drank a lot last night," she asked quietly, her hands fiddling with the top of her comforter, something you knew she did when she was nervous.

"Not that bad," you moved to sit down next to her lying figure, gazing down at her exhausted face. You could tell she hadn't slept well last night either, surely from your intoxicated confession.

"Listen, I know I was really stupid last night, but what we were talking about in my room," Paige cut you off before you could finish.

"Hey it's fine, I get it. You were really drunk and you get kind of emotional at that stage, so it's not even a big deal-"

"Oh my god Paige will you let me even speak? I meant what I said last night," you interrupted. There was no way you would allow her to brush this under the rug the same way you let her pretend your kiss had never happened.

"You're not just my best friend, you're my everything. You mean the literal world to me, there's barely anything I wouldn't do for you, because I'm in love with you. I have been for a reallly really long time now, that's why I was trying to keep my distance. It hurt, being around you and pretending like my heart wasn't going to explode at nearly everything you said or did with me," you professed, watching her expression morph from faked nonchalance to shock, and slowly, a small smile broke out.

"You, you love me love me? Like, you're in love with me? In a more than friends way?" She sat up to face you fully as she questioned you, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for your response.

"No shit Sherlock Holmes, it's almost like I said it like four times now, and you're still not-" she didn't let you finish your exasperated sentence before pulling you into her, pressing your lips firmly into hers.

You closed your eyes as you sighed into the minty kiss, melting into her hold as she moved her lips against you slowly, the rest of the world faded away as the two of you found peace in each other's embrace.

"You know you still haven't told me you love me back," you mumbled against her lips as the two of you separated a minute later, a wide grin stretched out across your face.

"No shit I love you too Sherlock Holmes," she teased, using the nickname you had come up with against you. "Have been for a while now, glad you finally noticed," she pulled you into her as she flopped down to lie down on her side, facing you.

The two of you continued to exchange light pecks and languid kisses, reveling in the comfort of your intertwined bodies in Paige's warm bed.

"Does this mean we're dating?" Paige pulled back to watch your face as she asked.

"Yeah P, this means you're my girlfriend now. Just mine, kay?" You beamed, caressing her cheek with your thumb.

"Got it, as long as you're only mine J."

December 23rd, 2019 (Winter Break, senior year; 18 years old)

Paige’s POV:

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Jenna giggled at my response, her laughter rumbling her body against mine. She was currently sprawled over my body in tiny pajama shorts and a cropped tank top, her head laying on my chest as she wrote random words onto my left arm for me to guess, my other hand wrapped tightly over her waist, eliminating any space that may have been between us.

Jenna had finally finished all of her college applications and we both took our winter finals two weeks prior, leaving us to peacefully enjoy our Christmas and New Years together.

We had already been dating for over a year now, and if I wasn't completely and irrevocably head over heels for Jenna Smyths before, I most definitely was now. The two of us were already inseparable even before we started dating, but since last July it was almost like we couldn't spend go more than twenty-four hours apart, which our families had slowly started picking up on.

We never really told my family that we were dating, just slowly started leaving hints here and there. Spending more time together, being more cuddly or touchy with the other person (all pg of course), and we went to our most recent school dances together, as friends, but still.

Even at school or in public, we basically acted the same as we always did, and despite the rumors running rampant in the many gossip circles, no one had any evidence to prove any allegation, and when prompted, we always gave the same answer, "She's my best friend".

But with Jenna's family on the other hand, only her mom knew after a really awkward walking-in incident. It wasn't too bad, it just so happened that one night when I was sleeping over at her house in March, we were innocently making out in her bed, as any seventeen year-old couple did, when her mom walked in to tell us that we were going out for breakfast the next morning. We quickly separated, but not fast enough to evade her mom.

Needless to say, the two of us had to endure a very, very embarrassing conversation of being safe and responsible together, and the only reason she didn't rat us out to Jenna's dad or my family to stop our sleepovers was the fact that neither of us could get pregnant from anything we may or may not do.

Unfortunately, our "separation anxiety problem" proved to be quite the difficult challenge when I had to leave for the team USA basketball games and Jenna went on college tours with her parents. The two of us managed to get by through near constant texting and nightly FaceTime calls, which I've accepted may be the norm for our relationship in the future.

I already committed to UConn back in April, but Jenna still hasn't decided where she wants to go. She's applied sort of everywhere, California, Washington, Michigan, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course, Connecticut. She hasn't told me what her top pick is out of all of her applications, but I had a feeling she was refraining from telling me because it was going to be one of the furthest ones from UConn.

I didn't mind having to do long distance, as hard as it would be, I would take that struggle over losing Jenna any day. But there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind that Jenna didn't agree, that she would rather break up than have to deal with long distance.

But that couldn't happen to us, we were Paige and Jenna, Peanut Butter and Jelly, and there was no way that we would break up because of college. I mean sure, we had real arguments every once in awhile, one of us got a little jealous, or we were tired or annoyed and accidentally took it out on the other person. But those never lasted long, both of us being too weak to remain mad at the other for more than a day.

One of the biggest arguments we had was over one of my newest and closest friends, Azzi Fudd. We met through team USA and got really close really quickly, which Jenna wasn't the fondest of. We never talked about her until I had gotten back, and Jenna finally burst when I paused our conversation to text Azzi back.

It wasn't until after I assured Jenna that Azzi was straight and was definitely not interested in me in anyway since she had a crush on a boy at her school, that she was my girlfriend and the only one I had eyes for, and she met Azzi in person for the first time that she understood just how platonic our friendship was and also formed a connection with the younger girl.

To be fair, Jenna wasn't the only one with slight jealousy issues, or as she called it, me being "territorial", which I wholeheartedly disagree with. I just think that some of the guys and girls she's friends with don't need to be all over her all the time, but Jenna was just a naturally affectionate person who made everyone around her feel loved and seen, and I understood that doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way.

Which is all to say that despite any minor bumps in the road, our relationship was as steady and strong as ever, and there was no where else in the world I would rather be right now than in bed with Jenna's body covering mine.

"I wrote bball doofus, okay there's no way you don't get this next one," she remarked teasingly. I pinched her side as she stifled her laughter, adjusting herself over me before going to write her next phrase on my bicep. I was wearing a similar tank top to hers, but with warmer, full length pajama pants. Jenna always refused to admit when she was feeling cold, which was always, instead choosing to intertwine her legs with mine, absorbing any body heat radiating off of me.

I closed my eyes and focused on her fingers fluttering over my arm, concentrating on the words she attempted to spell out. It was a phrase so familiar to us at this point I had figured it out before she had even gotten to the last word.

I smiled down at her, watching as she moved her gaze from her writing to my face, a wide grin and blush present on her features.

"I love you," I whispered to her, admiring at the way her cheeks flushed deeper at my statement. She never used to be the type of person who got easily flustered or shied away from a challenge, but when it came down to the sweetest moments like this, her body was almost constantly some shade of red or pink.

Jenna wasn't the most openly affectionate person, she often got shy when it came to dates, romantic gesture, even verbally expressing her feelings. But by driving me around all the time when I didn't have my car or even my license, helping me with homework last minute, doing my hair for games, cooking and baking food for me, and remembering the smallest details about me, she showed me how much she loved me, and that was always enough for me.

"I love you too," she whispered back, resting her chin on my chest as she continued to gaze up at me, deep adoration present in her eyes, and without a doubt, I was sure I was looking back at her with either the same or deeper level of infatuation. I moved my hand around her waist to draw small circles on the sliver of skin that was exposed, relishing in the sweet intimacy.

Moments like this were my favorite, relishing in the presence of one of my favorite people on earth, quiet and at peace with no distractions, just the two of us enjoying our time spent together.

"Wait I wanna switch, it's your turn to be the big spoon," I patted her waist to guide her to flip over onto her back, so I could lay my head down on her this time.

One of the things I loved to do with Jenna was listen to her heartbeat, it was the beat of a song I would never know the name of, but it was my favorite. To me, it proved the tangibility of the connection between our souls, the love we held for each other. It was listening to the sound that kept my life force breathing, that allowed me to keep my rock and anchor, the person I loved the most and showed me that everyday was worth living, no matter what, because it was with her.

May 22nd, 2020 (End of Senior Year; 18 years old)

My heart sank at the silence I received from Paige, she was sitting across from me on my bed and kept switching from quietly scanning over the letter on my computer screen to changing the tabs, looking over all the schools I had received acceptance letters from.

Despite getting into UConn with Paige, and even universities close to her on the East Coast, like NYU and UPenn, I was choosing to commit to UCLA, my dream school since I was seven. It was safe to say Paige wasn't thrilled with my decision, evident through her lack of a response.

"P? Please say something, literally anything," I begged, her silence was unsettling, and her face was stoic and near emotionless, which meant I had no idea of the thoughts running through her head right now.

"I don't even know what you want me to say. Or expect me to do," she paused before continuing, "I am so proud of you and everything you've done and accomplished to make it this far, but I feel so," she stopped, collecting her thoughts and emotions before continuing.

"I almost want to hate you for choosing to go so far, for choosing to leave me and be so far away from me when we both know this kind of long-distance won't work," her voice cracked, at the end of her sentence. Rather than continuing to talk, she raised the collar of her t-shirt to her eyes, tucking her head under to hide the tears that had begun to spill out.

You moved your laptop away so could close some of the distance between the two of you. You gently cupped her face, coaxing her to let go of her t-shirt so you could look directly in her eyes.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but I can't not go Paige. I need to do this for myself and I know that if I don't go, or at least give it my best shot, I'll regret it for the rest of my life," her heartbroken expression was painful for you to watch, only making it harder for you to refrain from crying.

"If I asked you to even consider, not even coming to UConn with me but like, NYU or something, literally anywhere closer to make the long distance work, would you?" Her eyes bore into yours, searching for the answer she dreaded hearing.

You waited a moment to answer, not to think over your answer or consider her question, you already knew the answer. But to compose yourself, holding in the pain you felt from hurting the only person who would ever love you like this.

You dropped your hands from her face before responding, "No."

You could see, practically hear, her heart shatter at your response, not expecting you to be so cold and short with her. She was openly crying now, her voice now shaky and slightly higher-pitched.

"So all the times that you told me that you couldn't imagine living without me, that you needed me, that you felt like you could only breathe around me, that was all bullshit? Or you just, what, changed your mind?"

"I never lied to you about that Paige, all of those things are still true. But this is my dream, I obviously didn't go into this whole process expecting to get into one of the top universities in the nation. If I asked you the same thing right now, to give up UConn and accept one of the recruitment offers you got closer to UCLA, would you?"

"Don't turn this around on me and make me the selfish one right now. That's not fair and you know it Jenna. Getting recruited is different, it determines whether or not I can go pro in the future, it makes all the difference in the world when it comes time for me to get drafted in the W."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything Paige, I'm just trying to make you understand that I can't give up UCLA. And selfish, really? Trying to make a life for myself, going to the college of my dreams, that's selfish?"

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tear-streaked face.

"You have to understand what it feels like to be in my position right now. You're my everything, my best friend, my girlfriend, the one person who knows me better than anyone, even my parents. And you just dropped a bomb of information on me. From day one, I have always been clear about where I wanted to go to college, and I signed as soon as I got the offer. But you never said anything about that, and on top of it, you were always the one who talked about our future together, and now it's like you're taking all of your previous statement back."

"I'm sorry Paige. I'm so sorry that I'm doing this to you, that I'm hurting you. That was never my intention with this. You're my everything too, but that's not right and that's not how it should be. One person can't be my whole life, and I can't be yours either. No matter how much I love you and need you, I also need this for myself."

Paige's eyes were bloodshot at this point, and you hadn't noticed when, but somewhere during your conversation you had given up on trying to hold back your own tears.

"I've already submitted a housing application, the apartments open from June but usually students don't go until July or August, so I'll still be here for a little while," you sniffled.

As much as your decision hurt Paige, you knew it was the right thing for both of you. Paige had to focus on basketball and you needed to focus on school and your own future, and maybe the time apart would allow you to grow together rather than apart.

After all, isn't distance supposed to make the heart grow fonder?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, any and all support is greatly appreciated!!

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.