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tootiredmotel · 3 years ago

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Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years ago

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All Secrets Have a Habit of Coming Out

Hello all, this was for @iiblueberry-15ii

Hope it's all you wanted from your request :)

Ron Weasley x Male Potter Reader

Word Count: 1464

Just a little note, I only know a cursory amount about Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome, just what a quick google search could reveal so it might not be the most accurate, but I did my best, so I hope this ticks the box for what you wanted @iiblueberry-15ii

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Everyone may have only known his brother's name when they first entered Hogwarts, but Y/n Potter had worked hard to fix that.

He had always been smaller and more frail than his twin brother Harry due to a rare condition that had affected them during pregnancy called Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome.

Essentially an imbalance during development made Harry receive more blood (and thus nutrients) than he gave back.

If this had been explained properly in a caring and loving environment, Harry might not have felt so guilty about it. Unfortunately for the twins, they grew up with their Aunt, Uncle and cousin, all of which took every opportunity to cause them pain. It had been spat at them one day when they were much younger that it was all Harry's fault that his twin brother wasn't as healthy as he was.

This all lead to Harry becoming incredibly overprotective of Y/n. He couldn't take more than two steps outside of Hogwarts during winter without Harry pushing extra scarves and coats into his arms and telling him to rug up more. Guilt was a great motivator, and Harry felt awful that Y/n was weaker than him physically.

Y/n couldn't play quidditch either because his lungs had suffered during development as well.

Y/n had, in his lower moments, like when his older brother (by like ten minutes Harry!) won a game of quidditch, or came back from some fantastic adventure that he had forbidden him from joining them on, allowed the hate to take root just that little bit more.

But he would wake up the next morning and realise that it couldn't possibly be his brothers fault. It was just an accident of life that this had happened.

He would be reminded in every class that there were some things that he could do that Harry just couldn't. His brother might be naturally talented with power for his magic, but as his favourite saying played through his head he would think about that instead. Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard.

Y/n truly shone in classes too. He worked just as hard as Hermione at his studies, and it paid off. Often, when they got back essays or test results they were the top two in the class.

This naturally made the two a lot closer, as they were practically a built in study buddy for the other.

As they were getting older and reaching the age that people started to notice the other gender (or their own in Y/n's case) other guys would come up and ask him about Hermione.

-------------

Y/n couldn't believe the stupidity of his own gender sometimes. That had been the forth time today that he had had to fend off another guy who only wanted to get into the female bookworms pants while getting their homework done for free.

He stormed back into the Gryffindor common room in a huff.

He landed with a thump on the couch beside Ron and pouted.

"Guys suck."

Ron looked up from his homework which was looking rather untouched.

"I could do with a break anyway, been at this near five minutes. What's up Y/n?"

He sat back up closer to the other boy, giving him his full attention.

Ron wasn't sure what it was about Y/n, but there was just something that made him want to spend all day staring at him, or listening to him talk about the things that made him get all excited. He made the cutest faces when he got all worked up, eyes shining brighter than any star in the sky.

Okay, so he knew why he felt that way, heck, he had even acted on it. He still couldn't believe his luck when Y/n had agreed to go on a date with him. Of course they had had to pull off some pretty fast talking to get their friends to stay behind without it seeming like they wanted to be alone.

Ron focused back in just in time to see Y/n narrow his eyes at him.

Oops, he had noticed that he wasn't paying attention to him.

Ron cringed slightly.

"Sorry, was just thinking."

He cast a furtive look around the room, but they were pretty much alone right now. He was sure that wouldn't last.

Y/n just looked curious now.

"About what?"

Ron shifted awkwardly. Feelings weren't really his forte.

"About how I must've used up all the luck I had stored up for the next few years just to get you to agree to go out with me."

Ron sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing that he was blushing.

Y/n was blushing when Ron had managed to gather up enough courage to look over at him.

They went to move closer, but their moment was ruined by the portrait entrance slamming open to let in some other Gryffindors.

"Later?"

"Later."

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Y/n and Ron had stayed up much later than anyone else. It wasn't unusual for Y/n, but Ron knew the only way it wouldn't look suspicious for him to stay up was to pretend to be engrossed in a game of chess. He had thought of his homework at first, but then realised that he was usually the first one to give up, so working on it for hours unprovoked would be almost more suspicious than anything else he could come up with.

By the time that midnight rolled around Y/n and Ron had been alone in the common room for just under an hour. In that time they hadn't moved closer. They didn't want to risk it when people might still be remembering that one last thing they had accidentally left in the common room. Nothing said guilty like two teenagers springing apart as someone comes down the stairs.

It was Y/n who made the call. He stretched and shoved his book into the bag before moving over to the couch.

Ron could take a hint, no matter what anyone said, and followed Y/n over.

They sat looking at each other for a minute, just taking the other in.

"It's pretty exhausting hiding this, huh?"

"Yeah," Ron answered. "I sort of thought it might be kind of fun, but it's mostly just tiring. Can't really enjoy spending time together when we're constantly looking over our shoulders."

Y/n gave a half smile.

"Still worth it?"

Ron grinned back and reached out for Y/n instead of answering.

"Can I kiss you?"

Y/n nodded too fast and almost fell over.

Their lips met while they were both still laughing.

They didn't keep laughing for long. It had been a long week for them both, and they hadn't had very much time alone lately.

Things were just about to get more heated when they heard a noise from behind the couch.

They froze, still looking into each others eyes, then they pulled away from each other faster than either of them had ever moved before.

"Yeah, bit late for that really."

Neither of them had hear Harry's voice sound so cold.

Y/n turned to face his brother who had apparently walked in on them making out.

Well, at least everyone was just as embarrassed as each other judging by the blush on Harry's face.

Ron and Y/n watched Harry silently from opposite edges of the couch.

Harry clenched his jaw several times before seeming to try to calm himself.

"Ron. A word."

Y/n cringed. Well, it had been nice knowing Ron, but Y/n was pretty sure he would be helping to bury his body soon.

Y/n watched as Ron and Harry made their way over to one of the windows. He pouted, he couldn't hear anything from where he was. He sat back and crossed his arms as he waited for Harry to come back and deal with him.

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Harry was so far past mad he didn't have a word for it anymore.

His little brother, who was smaller and just generally more frail, was apparently down here making out with Ron.

What the hell were they thinking?

And hiding it, Harry was sure neither of them had been thinking properly.

"What exactly did you think you were doing with Y/n?"

He stated each word as clearly and calmly as he could, but he could still hear his voice shaking in his rage.

He waited for Ron to start explaining himself, but just as he opened his mouth, Harry decided he didn't much care what he had to say.

"Look, I think it was pretty obvious what you two were doing, but let me just say, as Y/n's older brother and the only member of his family who cares about him, if you ever do anything to hurt him. Well, I'll show you exactly why I'm considered a threat to Voldemort."

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley #Male reader #Harry Potter

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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Wanda Maximoff X Reader Hogwarts AU Oneshot

Hey everyone! As WandaVision has me completely in love with Wanda Maximoff, I've managed to write a little Harry Potter-inspired oneshot.

Ready on AO3 too

Gif is not mine.

It was an understatement to say that you were late. Running through the now-empty corridors of the castle, you hid behind a pillar when you thought you heard the voice of the Ravenclaw's snitch monitor nearby, but you let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that it was only ghosts chattering away during their wanderings.

You ran toward the transfiguration room, believing that if you were lucky, you would be able to sneak behind the cages to the last empty chair and pretend that you hadn't missed almost half of the first class. You believed that Tony Stark would have been the inconvenience knowing all that he usually is, and that Professor Minerva would not have noticed your absence.

When you finally reached the classroom, you wiped some sweat from your forehead as you leaned against the wall, trying to look out the window. You noticed that almost all the students were writing something in their notebooks, and you tried not to think too much about the importance of that content, ignoring the feeling that it was the kind of thing that would be on the final exams.

You raised your hand toward the doorknob slowly, thinking of the best way to open the door without making too much noise, but then someone turned the lock on the other side, and you almost fell back in surprise as you saw the door open.

- I'm glad you decided to join us, Miss Y/L/N. - said Professor Minerva sternly.

You felt your knees tremble with fear at the intensity of her gaze, and your cheeks heat up when you hear giggles coming from inside the room.

- I'm sorry, professor. I didn't hear the alarm clock. - You said, looking at the floor. Minerva let out an exclamation of disapproval and let you into the room.

- I will debilitate five points of your house, for this, miss. Don't let this happen again. - She said simply, and you entered.

When you sat in the back of the room, in one of the few empty chairs, you did your best to avoid all the curious and judgmental glances your classmates threw at you. Only when Professor Minerva walked back between the tables you looked around the room, your gaze locking on the one person who could completely take your attention away.

Wanda Maximoff was a student of the same year as yours, being part of the Slytherin house. You could say that you had a friendly relationship, because you knew the same people, and especially, you were very good friends with Pietro, her twin brother. You couldn't precisely define the nature of your relationship with Wanda however. In your first two years at Hogwarts you sat together on the train, and during the breaks, almost exclusively due to the company of Steve Rogers, who was a mutual friend and a year older, who used to act like the older brother of several people. When Steve graduated, Pietro became the only bond that justified your socializing with Wanda, but even though they were brothers they didn't hang out all the time, especially after Wanda started dating a Ravenclaw boy named Vis, who you didn't like, and Pietro started dating, well, several people.

The thing was that you never developed a friendship with Wanda, purely because she made you nervous enough that you couldn't engage in conversation with her without being around other people. You were a complete mess around her, notable only to your best friend, Natasha, who was happy to torment you for your longtime crush on the witch. During the third and fourth year, you considered confessing to Wanda how you felt, but like a bucket of cold water, Vis came along. He was a nice guy, and smart, and you were in the same chess club. But all the niceness completely disappeared when you watched Vis invite Wanda to the winter ball. The whole dynamic of your relationship with Wanda has changed since she started dating the young ravenclaw. You tried to suppress your feelings as much as possible, and you were constantly irritated and clumsy in the presence of Vis, who seemed to be always clinging to Wanda, so you started avoiding both of them. If Wanda interpreted that your sudden hostility was because you didn't like her, she didn't speak up, and just began to respect the distance you put between you two.

You were in this almost hostile territory for all of fifth grade and sixth grade, until you invited Jessica Jones to be your date to Professor Stark's Christmas party during seventh grade, which set off a series of interesting events in your life.

First the Starks threw the best Christmas parties, and although Tony Stark was annoying and overbearing, he was your long-time friend, and he was very happy to invite all his friends to his father's party, Professor Howard Stark, who taught Magic Mechanics. You weren't even in Professor Stark's class, but you were happy to hear that he organized a party for everyone who stayed at the castle during the vacation period, and many students skipped their way home just to attend, since Howard's parties were famous in school.

And then you invited your friend Jessica Jones, someone you had a lot of fun with, but wasn't really romantic at all. In fact, you dared her to take you to the party, because she wouldn't admit the open crush she had on her colleague Trish Walker, a very pretty blonde girl who seemed to be the only person who could get around Jessica's temper. You were happy to tease Jessica all night about her crush, until the brunette took too much fruity punch and finally built up the courage to talk to Trish, leaving you laughing at your desk as you watched her trip over her own feet as she led the blonde out of the room.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you imagined it was Natasha, finally finding you in the midst of so many people, but the vision that hit you took your breath away.

You knew that Wanda Maximoff was beautiful. It was a fact that you grumbled against your pillow in irritation when you saw her kissing Vis on the cheek during breaks between classes. And then you saw her, her hair arranged in a high bun, her face powdered with makeup that made her even more beautiful, and her long eyelashes flashing at you through emerald orbs. Damn those eyes. There was a lot to take in in the figure in front of you. Her stupidly beautiful face, her lips slightly stained with lipstick because she had a habit of biting them when nervous, or her partially exposed collarbone from the cut of her blouse. You thought you had forgotten how to breathe.

- Hey. - Wanda greeted you with a lopsided smile. You blinked a few times.

- H-hi Wanda! - you replied after being silent for a moment. You looked away quickly. - Nice party, right?

- I think. - She replied and you noticed the two empty glasses in her hand. You abruptly adjusted your posture, your cheeks flushing slightly, to step back and excuse Wanda so she could fill the glasses with fruit punch. Of course, she was only talking to you because you were in front of the drinks table, preventing her from getting something for herself and Vis.

- Here, sorry about that. - You apologized after moving completely away from the drinking table, Wanda blinked slightly in confusion, and seemed to remember that she was carrying the glasses only at that moment.

- Oh, yeah, right. - she grumbled as she approached the bucket of ponge. - Just gonna grab something for me and Vis.

- Yeah, I figure that. - You replied harshly, looking down at your own shoes.

Wanda raised her eyebrows at your aggressiveness, and she ventured to ask.

- Do you have any problem with Vis? - said the sorceress, now holding the two full glasses in both hands. You rolled your eyes impatiently, which seemed to irritate her.

What difference does that make? - You replied feeling jealousy fill your chest - We are not friends so what I think doesn't really matter.

You regretted the aggressiveness of your words the moment you said them, and you felt even worse when you looked into Wanda's tearful eyes. But you didn't have time to apologize, because the girl just turned her back on you, going back in the same direction she had come from.

Honestly, you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear. Or maybe bang your head against the wall, believing that your only natural talent was to ruin exactly every conversation you had with Wanda. You thought it best to try to find your date, to say goodbye before heading back to the communal room, so you walked in the opposite direction of Wanda.

You searched for Jessica for several minutes. The girl seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and then as you strolled down the empty third floor corridors you found her in a compromising position to say the least.

Feeling your cheeks getting very hot, you watched with a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and horror as your longtime friend knelt down, her head tucked between the spread legs of Trish Walker who was clutching her skirt with one hand as she threw her head against the wall, her eyes closed. For merlin sake. You stumbled backwards, your eyes wide. They were too distracted to notice you, and it took only a sobbing groan from Trish to break your shock. You turned around quickly, shaking your head to try to push the images from your mind.

As you walked down the halls of the third floor, intending to go back to the party and drink as much smuggled alcohol as you could find to erase the image of Trish and Jessica fucking, you bumped into someone.

Wanda's lipstick was much more smudged than before, and her shirt was slightly wrinkled. And then you knew immediately what she was doing in that hallway. Frowning at her, you noticed that she looked embarrassed at having bumped into someone, but you didn't let her speak, rushing to let out an impatient exclamation and leaning against the wall.

- Good Merlin, everyone decided to have sex today. - You sighed, closing your eyes, but opened them the same second the recent images hit you back, watching Wanda stare at you in confusion. She seemed to hesitate between walking away and talking to you, but you were glad when she turned her body in your direction.

- Who's having sex? - she asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern on her face. You let out a low laugh, and let your body slide against the wall until you sat down on the floor. Wanda copied your movement on the opposite wall, and you were facing each other, both sitting in the empty hallway.

- I just saw first hand two colleagues fucking in the hallway. - You grumbled, not saying you had seen your friends. You weren't the type to spread rumors. - I think I'm traumatized for life.

Wanda fought back a smile, clearly still upset with you for the discussion earlier. You swallowed hard, knowing that you had your chance to apologize now.

- That sucks. - Wanda said simply, and you stared at her.

It took a few seconds, but you finally spoke:

- I'm sorry about earlier. I was just being mean, for no reason apparently.

The girl seemed surprised, but then she gave you a short smile. You began to play with your shoelaces when you were silent for a moment.

- I wasn't having sex. - Wanda whispered so softly that you blinked a few times to make sure you heard something. You looked at her in confusion, but she looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. - Vis asked if he could take me to my room, I didn't feel like partying after our discussion. - She explained, still not looking at you. - He said he wanted to give me a proper goodnight kiss.

You felt your stomach drop. Swallowing all your jealousy, you let out a grumble, signaling that you understood what Wanda had said. You looked back down at your own sneakers, and couldn't notice the witch analyzing every micro-expression on your face, her heart beating uncompensated at the confession.

- I didn't want to kiss him like that. - She said at last, and feeling her gaze on you, you reciprocated.

Although you tried to hold it in, you couldn't help but let a shy smile slip between your lips. You looked away again, biting your lips to keep from smiling at the sorceress's newly confessed words.

You were silent for a moment again, and feeling that you finally had a chance to talk to Wanda, about anything, you decided to stick to the subject. Letting your spontaneity guide your speech, you found yourself asking:

- Did you ever want to kiss someone like that?

Wanda looked surprised, and slightly embarrassed judging by the slight blush on her cheeks. You hurried to explain the reason for the question, not wanting the girl to feel pressured to answer.

- I just mean like, how people are sure of that? - You said, and suddenly your anxieties and fears were all on edge and you found yourself sharing about it. - It’s just I've never done anything like that. I was never able to tell for sure if i wanted to kiss someone or if i was just doing because it was what everyone was expecting.

The sorceress seemed to absorb your words carefully. She rested her face on her knees as she looked at you intently.

- Not even with Jessica? Or Bucky? - Wanda asked and you just nodded.

- I had a lot of fun with Bucky, I really did. He was sweet and funny, and really cute. - You began to explain, while imitating Wanda's position, leaning your head on the arm above your knee. - But then we got to the Yule Ball together and everyone around us were making out and he just said we should try that too. And I was angry because… - You shook your head slightly to stop yourself from confessing exactly why you were upset that night. - Well, things i guess. I just know that in one second we were dancing and then he asked me if we could kiss and I didn’t want to let him down so I said yes.

- Was that your first kiss? - Wanda asked curiously.

- Not really. - You grumbled. - My first kiss was kind of a shitty situation. I was 9, This girl from muggles school locked me in an empty room and said she was going to show me how her father charmed women. She forced a kiss while I was too shocked to react.

- I’m sorry. - Wanda said sincerely, and you just shrugged.

- It 's okay. I guess she liked me but she had too much trauma to show that in a healthy way. - You said looking at Wanda, who frowned, disagreeing.

- This does not justify her behavior. - She retorted and you just bit your lips.

- You’re probably right. - You grumbled, and looked away from her quickly, building up the courage to confess again. - After Bucky, I thought that maybe I only liked girls and that’s why the kiss felt weird. But then Helen Cho kissed me on New Year.

- Wait, what? - Wanda suddenly exclaimed, and you looked at her curiously. Ashamed of her own reaction, Wanda looked away. - Sorry, I didn't know about this. - You let out a short laugh.

- Well, it was holiday break. I went to Steve’s in New Year. His family had a small reunion and Cho was invited.

- Oh, I remember this. - Wanda said. - My brother and I went back to Sokovia that year, so we couldn’t join the meeting.

- Well, you missed my big kiss, miss Maximoff. - You joked but Wanda didn't smile, an expression you couldn't quite decipher. You decided it was best to keep telling your story. - Anyway, Helen is a real flirt. She joked about not having anyone to kiss at midnight and it took her two drinks to ask me. I’m pretty sure it was only after Thor said no to her.

Wanda laughed softly, attentive to your monologue.

- I said yes because I wanted to be sure that I only liked girls. - You confessed, shaking your shoulders slightly. - I talked to Nat about this and she said the only way to be sure was if i felt that kissing girls was just naturally better than kissing boys, and I just went for it.

- And? - Wanda asked curiously.

- The fucking same. - You confessed, letting out a sad sigh. - I just felt I was doing because everyone else was doing and I could really feel a connection to her. I simply didn’t like her, you know? Like, everyone describes these butterflies and nervousness, and I thought I was feeling it too. But then I realized that I was just anxious about it being a new experience, and being in public. I wasn't nervous about the person I was kissing, it was just too frustrating.

- Is different with Jessica isn’t it? - Wanda asked after a moment, you raised your eyebrow at the almost hurt expression she had on her face, but she looked away from you quickly.

- Yes, but not because of what you’re thinking. - You said. - I’m not in love with her, you know. Things are way less complicated than that.

A short smile escaped Wanda's lips at her confession, but she did not interrupt you.

- We have a lot of things in common. Especially personality traits. - You explained, smoothing yourself better against the wall. - We become friends quite easily. And for some reason I always thought she was hot.

Wanda's gaze fell from yours immediately, but you didn't notice the sad posture she assumed.

- What I mean is, I was attracted to her after we became friends. Then I realized that it was supposed to be like this. I like to have emotional bonds before intimacy affection. - You explained. - She was my first enjoyable kiss, I guess. We kissed a couple times on truth or dare games, but eventually we both realized that even though we had chemistry, we didn’t work as a couple. Manly because we aren’t in love with each other.

- I thought you two were dating. - Wanda suddenly confessed, the same indecipherable expression on her face as before. You looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

- I never really dated anyone, Wanda. - You explained. - I guess that’s the real reason on why i was so chocked to find people having sex on a corridor.

Wanda let out a short laugh, and you tried not to blush so much at the sound.

- Anyone would be surprised. Virgin or not. - She said, looking at you tenderly.

You fell into a comfortable silence again. You began to play with the button on your costume, before you felt Wanda's foot tap against yours. She had stretched out her legs, and slowly, both her feet touched the soles of yours. You smiled at her.

- I would like it if we were friends. - she confessed in a whisper.

You shook your head, smiling at her with amusement and affection.

- Who said we weren't friends? - You retorted, and a smile filled the other girl's face.

Before either of you could say anything else, noises of footsteps and voices could be heard in the hallway around the corner from where you were sitting. You exchanged a complicit look with Wanda, and you crawled side by side to the edge of the wall, to hear what seemed to be an argument.

Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were arguing about something in that hallway. They seemed slightly intoxicated judging by the slurred words and unbalanced postures, but the distance and the loud party noise made it impossible for you and Wanda to hear exactly what they were arguing about. They stood like that for a few seconds, until suddenly, Tony pushed Bruce against the corridor wall, and the two of them locked into a passionate kiss.

Your jaw dropped in shock, and before you could even process what had just happened, you watched in horror as Bruce took charge of the kiss, pushing Tony against the wall only to kneel in front of the other boy, beginning to unbuckle Tony's belt. You let out an exclamation and before you could make any more noise, Wanda pulled you back into the hallway, one hand covering your mouth as she laughed at your expressions.

- Okay, I admit, that was traumatic. - She said between short bursts of laughter, removing the hand covering her mouth. You laughed breathlessly, extremely aware of the other girl's proximity.

- I'm starting to think someone put sex potion to the punch. - You tried to joke, but then Wanda realized how close you were and stopped smiling.

- That would be a problem. - she whispered. - I had two cups of that.

You swallowed hard, using all your willpower to keep your gaze on Wanda's eyes, even though your brain commanded you to look at her lips.

- Is that making you feel horny too? - You answer in the same tone and then you watch Wanda stare unashamedly at your mouth. You feel a strange tingling sensation at the tip of your stomach and try to ignore the uneven beating of your heart.

But the moment is completely broken when you hear a loud groaning noise, which did not come from any of you. You shake your head, and as you realize exactly where it is coming from you cover your face with both hands.

- Merlin, what the hell was that. - You grumble and rush to cover your ears as the noises continue. Wanda starts to laugh.

- I think that's our clue to leave. - She comments, and it takes a moment for you to realize that she has moved away, already standing up and away from you.

She reaches out to help you up, and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach when she keeps holding your hand as you run down the hall in the opposite direction from where you were standing.

Concentrating too much on the feel of Wanda's hand in yours, you don't realize where she is leading you until you are almost there. You give her a gentle tug on her hand to stop her, and Wanda looks at you curiously.

- Why are you taking me to the common room? - you question curiously, slightly disappointed that the evening was coming to an end.

- Because it's quite late. - she says as if it were obvious, and you raise an eyebrow. - I need to check on Pietro before going to bed, but that does not mean I can't take you to the dorm.

- What a gentlewoman, you turn out to be, Miss Maximoff. - you joked, and Wanda laughed lightly.

You started walking again next. When you finally reached the entrance to the common room, you turned to Wanda, and found her already looking at you.

- Here we are. - You said softly.

- Here we are. - she replied in the same tone.

A moment passed with just the two of you smiling at each other, until you laughed and looked away, nervousness taking over your body.

- I will see you at class tomorrow, Wanda. - You finally said, letting go of her hands. Wanda seemed to consider something and then she moved closer to you, making you hold your breath.

- Goodnight, Y/N. - She whispered before depositing a long kiss on your cheek. You inhaled her perfume, closing your eyes for a brief moment before she pulled away.

You must have been blushing a lot, and you thought it best to hide your embarrassment, looking away from Wanda quickly and mumbling a awkward "Goodnight. You didn't notice, but Wanda smiled fondly at the shy mess you had become. She waited until you entered the common room before turning around.

It has been three weeks since you spent Christmas Eve with Wanda. When you woke up after that night, you knew that there was something different between you two. Some kind of intimacy that wasn't there before. And you had no idea how to deal with it. Now, every time you saw each other, you exchanged accomplice glances, but neither of you took the first action to get closer. Always surrounded by friends, you didn't have much time alone. And with the start of the final exams, you were feeling overwhelmed

And then you agreed to have a drink with Nat at the Three Broomsticks, to take your mind off the tests for a while, only to witness Vis asking Wanda to be his girlfriend during a date at the same place you were. Of course you had to arrive right then and there. Feeling Wanda's and Nat's eyes focused on you, you just held back your tears and left the bar, being accompanied by your clearly concerned friend.

Heartbreak isn't exactly a plausible and acceptable justification for missing class, so you thought it best just to tell Minerva that you hadn't heard the alarm clock.

When you raised your eyes to Wanda that morning, you felt your stomach sink when she had that same complicit look in her eyes accompanied by a slight smile. But you didn't smile back, and not wanting to deal with her worried expression, you just focused on your transfiguration lesson.

It didn't take long for the class to end, since you had missed almost half of it. But you had to stay a little longer to hear Professor Minerva's sermon.

Since you only had the classes for the subjects you wanted to get your N.E.W.T., your schedule was comfortably empty during the seventh grade. The vast majority of the time had to be spent studying if you wanted to get decent grades on the tests, but you allowed yourself to rest this morning, feeling emotionally tired.

You noted that you had three free periods before the next class, and decided to spend one in the kitchens, confident that the elves would cheer you up a bit since the creatures were extremely adorable.

Leaving the room, you observed the empty corridor around you. Your time getting scolded by Professor Minerva clearly made it possible for all the other students to go to their respective classes. You noticed a small group of students playing explosive snap in the middle yard, but you didn't feel like joining in the fun.

Knowing that you still had plenty of free time, you decided to leave your heavy materials in the common room before going to the kitchen, so you changed your route for the moment.

It was only when you reached a particularly isolated area in a corridor that you almost tripped over your own feet. Wanda was standing in front of you, a serious expression on her face.

- I was waiting for you. - She said holding the bag tightly on her shoulders.

- Is there anything you want to talk about? - You asked impatiently. Wanda pressed her lips together

- Why are you being like this? - She questioned with frowning eyebrows, a hurt expression that made you feel a tightening in your stomach.. - Did I did something?

You were so tired of this game. Then you just exploded.

- You know what Wanda, why don’t you go back to your boyfriend and leave me alone! - You shouted impatiently, frightening Wanda who took a step backwards.. - I’m tired of this game we’re playing. I only get hurt from it.

Not waiting for Wanda to answer, you went around her and started walking. You heard her call you, and ask you to wait, but you didn't obey, holding back tears as you walked.

- Please, listen to me. - She pleaded one last time, and you stopped walking. Taking a deep breath, you turned around..

- What? - Your voice trembled a little, the emotion you were hiding escaping in your speech.

Wanda shifted the weight between her feet, lowering her head slightly with reddened cheeks. You imagined that she was embarrassed by the intensity of your gaze, that she was feeling guilty.

- I’m not dating Vis. - She stated lightly. You looked at her with confusion.

- I saw you two at…

- I know. - She cut you off by looking at you as she clasped her hands together, a shy smile escaping her lips. - I told him that i couldn’t date him. Not when I like someone else.

Great. There was someone else. You let out an exclamation of dissatisfaction.

- Look, it’s nice that you’re sharing your love life with me but i don’t see how this is relevant right now…

- I’m talking about you. - Wanda says looking at you.

- W-what? - You ask confused, feeling your cheeks heat up, your heart racing. Wanda looks as nervous as you do as she approaches.

- You’re the person I’m in love with. - Wanda confesses, her gaze intense on you. You find it hard to breathe now.

- Oh. - That seems to be the only thing you can say, no coherent thought forming at Wanda's proximity. She brought her hands up to your neck and pressed your foreheads together

- It 's okay if I kiss you? - She asked in a low tone, you felt your stomach turn with anxiety.

- I would like that. - You say finally, before you feel Wanda's lips against yours.

It's soft. Just the touch of your lips, and you don't move your hands, still not believing that this is really happening. You think you have something you need to say, so you sigh against Wanda's mouth, and she pulls away a bit, her hands trembling against your neck.

- I'm in love with you too, Wanda. - You whisper and kiss her again, feeling her smile against your mouth.

This time it's even better. Your mouths meet and you kiss her firmly, while bringing your hands to her waist. And then just the touch of your lips is not enough, and you run your tongue over Wanda's lower lip, asking for passage. You think she doesn't understand the request because of her lack of reaction, but the next second she bites your lip gently, drawing a gasp from you. When her tongue brushes against yours, you squeeze her waist, delighting in Wanda's taste. So fucking good, you think as your tongues wrestle together. When you slow the kiss, wanting to savor Wanda calmly, she moves her hands up into your hair, trailing her fingers down the back of your neck. Leaving the kiss as slow as possible, you smile against the kiss as you hear her sigh into your mouth. You always liked to tease after all.

You run one hand up her back, over her neck, pressing her against you as your tongue lingers on hers. You both gasp, and then the rhythm of the kiss changes. You let out a low moan as you feel Wanda pull your hair lightly as she increases the intensity of the kiss. Your hand that was on her waist comes down, and you grab her ass, squeezing and consequently earning a groan from Wanda. The feeling of having her against you is driving you wild, and your stomach is doing somersaults while your heart is racing.

As you pull your mouths apart to catch your breath, Wanda starts running kisses down your jaw to your neck, making your whole body shiver. You smile breathlessly, and feel your legs weaken. Realizing that you need a support to stand, you kiss her hard as you push her gently against the nearest wall.

The position certainly awakens something primal in both of you, the kiss intensifies as Wanda's leg curls against yours, and she pulls your body against hers so that you press her against the wall, something you do without opposition. Your hand squeezes her ass again, and she moans against your mouth.

- Fuck. - You sigh as you feel Wanda bite your lip again, your eyes opening slightly to face the fully dilated pupils staring at you maliciously.

You kiss again, Wanda letting her hands roam down your back, the sensation giving you goosebumps. You moan as you feel her fingers enter your burning skin through your shirt.

- For Merlin Sake! - a voice exclaims in surprise and you both stumble out of the kiss in shock.

It takes a moment for you to clear your own thoughts, everything in your body tingling with the feel of Wanda on your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up sharply as you face the one who interrupted you.

- You guys are so lucky it wasn't a teacher to find you like that. - Nat announced, pointing at the two of you, her tone was serious but her eyes showed amusement. She would surely tease you about this in the future.

- I… We - You tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but in the mix of shame and excitement you were in, you couldn't think of anything.

- It 's okay, love birds. - Nat joked, spreading her hands to push you and Wanda by the shoulders towards the courtyard. - You can continue your make out session somewhere else. I don’t recommend the school corridors, especially when you could get caught by Professor Fury.

- Right. - Wanda grumbles and you just nod in agreement

- The bell is about to ring, so I suggest you two find somewhere more quiet to be. - Nat says - I suggest the empty halls from the seventh floor. Or maybe, you know, a bed in any of the dorms.

You think you have blushed even more at the suggestion, but before you can say anything, Wanda stops walking, and you notice that she is as red as you are.

- Actually I have potions now. - She says, looking at Nat quickly, before her gaze focuses on you. She smiles slightly, and moves closer, making you hold your breath. - I see you at lunch, okay? - She speaks tenderly, placing a short kiss on your lips. You close your eyes at the sensation and think that she has gone too fast. Then Wanda nods to Nat and leaves, leaving you with a silly smile on your lips. The bell rings almost in the next instant and the noise wakes you up from your current state.

- Okay, since we both have free periods now, you're telling me everything. - Nat says, grabbing you by the arm as you walk back down the hall.

You laughed uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up. Taking a deep breath, you ignored Nat's excited expression, preparing to tell her how exactly you ended up in that situation.

#wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #reader x wanda #reader x character #marvel imagines #oneshot #hogwarts marvel crossover #wandaxreader

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

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

Like she’s doing now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should go.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

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

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

“So you do remember!”

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was correct.

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

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

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

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

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

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

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

You watched your best friend fall in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the summer before his senior year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

You need coffee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

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

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

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

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

Who is he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

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

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

“The B-A-What?”

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

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

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

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

“We’re a team,” he offers.

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

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

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

“It’s not great.”

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

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

“You what?”

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

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

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

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

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

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

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

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

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

“How is she doing?”

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

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

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

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

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, your prediction was correct.

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

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

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

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

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

There it is.

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

“Oh, I knew that already.”

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

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

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

She grimaces.

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

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

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

“Yeah, he told me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

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

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

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaron?”

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

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

“So it’s...a date, then?”

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

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

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

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

“Same difference.”

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They can’t be that bad.”

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

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

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

You blink. “They do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

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

+++

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

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

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

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

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

“You too,” you smile.

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

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

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

She nods. “Definitely.”

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

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

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

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

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

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

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

+++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

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

“Don’t know what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sunnyoldbear · 3 years ago

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Luca Headcanons Part 3!

I can’t fucking stop please someone help me

Luca:

All seamonsters have a lot of fish qualities and different sea monsters take on different fish qualities, even within a family.

While Luca isn’t as equipped to handle the deep as his uncle is, his father does have some traits that would help him out. Luca doesn’t know this, but he can survive deeper pressure than most others can. Like, significantly deeper, but not to the point of the Deep. He’s have to get accustomed to it and he might not have even survived.

His species can also echolocate! He also doesn’t know he can do this even though it’s from his mom’s side. He just thinks he clicks and squeaks when he’s happy, he doesn’t know he can also echolocate. Since, again, he hasn’t been to the Deep, the ability is very diluted and he can’t locate things very far but… he can, if he tries hard enough. He won’t, though, cause he just thinks his clicks and squeaks are just that.

He loses his shit when he finds out about dinosaurs. He loves them.

If you even mention a museum he will practically beg to go and he will be in there from opening to closing and still come back for more. He takes in every bit of information he possibly can

He doesn’t flip people off, he just sticks his tongue out

Cloud watches! He thinks it’s cute :)

Is cold blooded. They found this out when he passed out in the middle of class one day during the winter. Winter months are very hard for him at school because of it, so he treasures the break and stays under a bunch of warm blankets.

Talks with his hands a lot

One day when he was swimming to the surface after seeing his family, a fisherman who wasn’t too approving of sea monsters tossed their harpoon at him. It grazed his arm and it hurt like hell, but he still tried to hide it. Of course, since he was clutching his arm and there was blood between his fingers, the Marcovaldos panicked and healed him tot he best of their ability, but Luca simply smiled, turned to Alberto, and said “look, we match now!” (If you see Alberto standing beside Luca so that their scarred arms touch since they’re on opposite arms, no you didn’t)

He finds out about bubble wands and thinks they’re the coolest thing!

Avoids every kid named “Bruno” at school like the plague because he doesn’t want them to think he hates them

Whenever something cool happens he instinctively turns to tell Alberto and his face drops when he doesn’t see him

Definitely the kid to accidentally say “mom” (and)or “I love you” to a teacher and then stare in horror

Grabs Alberto’s arm, wrist, or hand when they’re doing something together if he’s not grabbed first just so they don’t lose each other. It’s just instinct.

Once sobbed for an hour because he saw a dead frog in a pool

Falls asleep if his hair is played with

Still gets made fun of for smelling like fish but due to being a fish he can’t really bathe so Giulia and her mom just spray him with perfume. It makes him feel better.

Forgives Guido and Ciccio with no hesitation, will never forgive Ercole. In fact, he’s terrified of Ercole.

Technically canon, but he is the biggest mama’s boy. She learns from her mistakes and fixes her relationship with him and he becomes super close to her

Only lets those close to him call him “Bubble” like his grandma does

Loses his mind when he sees fireflies

He keeps his hair pretty short

Refuses to eat fish

Is more of a prey fish

That being said, he develops a few survival markings, such as a spot on one of his fins to look like eyes

For some reason I feel like he’d be like clownfish and be able to swim through anemone without getting zapped

Was never good at making friends. The Branzino kid often tried to befriend him but he was too scared of disappointing his parents since Daniela and Mrs. Branzino don’t get along

Wears a seashell anklet

His grandma taught him to read secretly when he was little

Never stops talking. Never.

In class, he’s always the kid raising his hand, even if he doesn’t know the answers, just because of his eagerness

Calls Alberto all the time, more than he calls his family

Carries Alberto’s drawing with him everywhere. Used to be in his pockets and then transferred to his wallet.

Is definitely more of a writer than an artist! With his vivid imagination he can write for days, and Alberto is more than happy to draw them out for him

Lets his hair grow out a bit towards the end of his final school year. The stress of school means he doesn’t quite care for his appearance

Can’t sit still. When he’s at school he’s always fiddling with something but when he’s in Portorosso he just grabs Alberto’s hand and plays with his fingers

Definitely a teacher’s pet

Gets bullied a lot. You can’t expect the world to just be okay with sea monsters overnight. A lot of the world will never accept him. There are kids that make his life a living hell at school.

As much as he loves school, he aches to be free sometimes

Gets super flustered super fast

Sits at Alberto’s side and talks about anything and everything and Alberto will sketch it

His scales are more like a duck’s water-resistant feathers. Water rolls right off.

Loves taking Nerone for walks

Definitely wears skirts and dresses in secret! He just thinks they’re neat :)

Loves romance movies but will never admit it

Literally bites his tongue to hold back from rambling. Giulia and Alberto constantly have to tell him it’s okay and he can talk all he wants, but he’s bullied so often for talking too much that he still holds back if he catches himself

Alberto:

Similar to a Betta Fish! His kind of sea monster aren’t known for bonding well and tend to fight.

When healthy, his scales are long and gorgeous just like a Betta’s! (Giulia is mesmerized by them)

You know how dolphins get high with puffer fish? It’s not just dolphins.

His teeth are a little sharper than most other sea monsters. Yes, he bares them at Ercole every time they see each other. No, he won’t stop

Definitely the “he ask for no pickles” friend

No one knows what he’s talking about half the time except for Luca, Giulia, and (sometimes) Massimo. They just kinda go with it.

Has his own words for everything. Only Luca and Giulia know what he means.

He’s actually super, duper close to Giulia, but they do fight pretty often. They’re siblings.

Likes to put his hat on Luca

Everyone thinks he’d be a bad flirt/get flustered super easily but the opposite is true! He’s a big flirt! He just knows what to say to make others fluster around him! Even if he’s not into you, if your his age or he’s trying to charm you, he’ll flirt up a storm. Living on your own from such a young age means you need to pick up survival tactics, and charm and streetsmarts were the ones he picked up.

Sometimes he faces small boats he sees just for the fun of it

He also sometimes grabs a rope or a net from Massimo’s boat when they’re fishing and just zooms to land to get them there quicker

Loves playing games with the kids when he’s on lifeguard duty, even if it can get him in trouble with his boss

You better bet he makes fun of those school uniforms. He laughs his ass off. He thinks they’re the funniest things.

If he sees or hears even a hint of danger, he is shoving his loved ones behind him and will protect them with his life.

Prefers to be barefoot

Heals surprisingly fast. Something about them fish genes.

When he’s fifteen he jokingly tells Luca he should become a teacher and then Luca’s eyes get all big and excited and Alberto regrets opening his mouth. But he still supports him every step of the way.

Whenever he hears Luca click or chirp, he calls out for him if he’s a distance away or grabs his hand since he recognizes it as echolocation before Luca does

More of a predator fish

Keeps his hair long and growing

I think he’d probably grow a mustache. Giulia hates it so much which is why he keeps it. Okay, he kept it to annoy her, but then he actually started to like it. But when Luca said he liked it, that solidified it

He’s so strong it’s kinda scary. Definitely stronger than the average fisherman, but was stronger even beforehand.

Sometimes just eats fish live and terrifies those around him

He’s super fast! Since he’s based on a tuna or swordfish, he’s pretty quick

Unlike Luca, he’s warm blooded. So when he heard Luca has to keep really warm during winters, he offers most of his clothes

His father abandoning him may seem cruel, but for his kind of sea monsters, it was what had to happen. Still, Alberto is a child and it shouldn’t happen.

Mainly a night eater

Can see further than most of his fishy friends

Good night vision too!

Was taught to read and write as a kid by his father but it’s not perfect so he asks Massimo to do it

Loves playing cards

Fins are sharper than average

Squishes Luca’s cheeks

Sword fights with Giulia except they’re sticks

Whenever Luca falls asleep on him (often), he just stays still and refuses to move

Scoops Luca up sometimes

Grabs Luca’s face and blows raspberries instead of kissing it. (Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic!! Italians kiss on cheeks as greetings)

Protectively wraps his tail around those he loves

Water clings to him a bit more since his built-for-speed scales are less water repellent

Every year he gets scared Luca won’t return

Paints the Hideout to look like Luca’s dream fish-stars after he’s told about it. The ceiling, anyway. Don’t ask how he did it, no one knows.

Changes his last name to Marcovaldo

Thinks pet fish and aquariums are hilarious and will poke fun at the fish (“haha, losers! No freedom!” “Alberto!” “What?!”)

LOVES DINOSAURS

He and Luca share a bed when Luca comes over!

The Vespa poster hangs in his room on his door

Calls Luca’s nightlights “light fish” as a nod to stars

Has Giulia and Luca’s names tattooed onto him because they’re his best friends

Tried to take Caligola and Machiavelli on walks… yeah that goes as well as you think

Giulia:

Is a fast reader

Isn’t a massive poetry fan but does have a few favorites

Also keeps a few drawings from Alberto in her folders

Also scoops Luca up randomly

Can and will bite you

Wears dresses as much as she does shorts

Ties her hair up when serious

Rubs her nose against her family’s as a sign of love. It’s just something she did as a kid, so sometimes she’ll just rub her nose against Alberto’s and he gets really confused

Is low key a little jealous of her brother and best friend being sea monsters

Is a bit of a builder! She makes a bridge from her room to the treehouse

Rarely starts fights with Alberto, but she’ll sure finish them

Half regrets teaching Alberto to swear

Though she seems pretty calm, she’s gotten into her fair share of fights at school. Mainly punches kids who bully her and/or Luca. Also sexists.

Although this is 1950/60s Italy, I imagine she’d be very accepting of homosexuality and not hide it, even if rumors of her being one start spreading and she gets hurt. She has a strong sense of justice and she doesn’t care about consequences.

She’s the only person allowed to make fun of Alberto. No one else is. She’ll quite literally attack anyone who dares.

Her parents were surprised she didn’t take after them in fishing or painting

Honestly I can see her mentoring the kids for the race every summer! Once she hits 18 and is no longer able to compete, she holds practice sessions and loves seeing the kids have fun

She definitely runs the race when she’s older. She moves to Portorosso since her marine biology career is helped by her sea monster brother and the town’s closeness to water

Teaches the boys to make sandcastles

Holds such strong resentment for Alberto’s father and Daniela. Lorenzo and Luca’s grandmother she’s fine with, but Alberto’s biological father abandoning him pisses her off more than she can put into words, and Daniela manipulating her son and sending him away makes her want to break something.

Her “santa (cheese)!” comments slowly change into “Santa (fish)!” exclamations. Like, “Santa Goby!” for example.

Is more close to Alberto than he wants to let people know. She can read him like a book. He’s honestly her best friend. She tells him everything, they go to each other after nightmares, they share everything, all the fun cute stuff that Alberto would rather die than admit.

Still has no idea what “Silenzio Bruno” and “Piacere, girolamo trombetta” mean and at this point she’s too afraid to ask

Though she loves the Portorosso kids, she’d rather die than be a mother. Her parents understand, but secretly hope she changes her mind so they can spoil a grandbaby.

Begs Massimo to coverup his sea monster tattoo, which he does

Also a “he ask no pickles” friend!

Is super patient with Luca and Alberto’s adaption to the human world (though she doesn’t like it when Alberto shoves his feet on her-which he loves to do because it pisses her off)

Secretly saves money up for the boys to get a Vespa

While she isn’t the best cook, her pasta meals are pretty damn good!

Has the trophy from the Cup in her room next to a picture of the three of them on the Vespa

#Luca #luca movie #pixar luca #Luca Paguro #Alberto Scorfano #Giulia Marcovaldo #luca headcanons

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Drawings on Ice (Part One) | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anonymous: I’d love for you to write a Charlie hockey fic. I’ve been hearing that heard a great hockey player so I need that in my life

A/N: this is going to be a two-parter! Hope this is what you imagined!

Summary: You moved from the US to Canada, starting over at a new college. Your newest (and only) friend begs you to join her at her boyfriend’s hockey practice where you see Charlie for the first time. With his beautiful eyes and perfect smile and perfect facial structure, you become obsessed with drawing him. It’s been a habit of yours to draw anyone you saw with interesting bone structure. Though your friend warns you about the jock bad boy, you can’t help but be intrigued by him...

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: I hope I made this as gender neutral as possible! Let me know if there’s anything I need to change to make it even more inclusive for non-binary/gender fluid people.

Words: 3,648

Warnings: Some curse words (bitch, fuckboy)

You’ve never been a fan of any type of sports. Your siblings used to play basketball and you had to go to their games, though you were always busy sketching in your sketchbook to really notice or learn anything about it. Then, you suddenly had to move for your mother’s job. To Canada, of all places. Canada, the land of maple syrup, brutally cold winters… and hockey. The only good thing about moving thus far, was meeting Andrea. Andrea is a preppy, happy-go-lucky kind of girl, and was the first one to talk to you on your first day at your new college. Always dressed in pink or purple, make-up done flawlessly and always so kind, you think she’s being fake. Normally, people like that scared you. Kids like that in your American High School were always the popular ones that bullied the antisocial nerds, which included you at that point. That’s why you’d avoided talking to anyone on your first day. Only Andrea was persistent. You could not for the life of you shake her off.

So, instead of trying any longer, you embraced it and became friends with her fast. Thanks to her, you found your way through the buildings and all the classes. She even gave you tips on some of the professors you had.

To be fair, Andrea did help you out a lot, so when she asked you to come along to her new boyfriend’s hockey practice, you had no other choice but go. You’d packed your sketchbook though, just in case you got bored. “So, which one is yours?” you ask Andrea when you sit down in the bleachers with her. “Number eight!” she says, pointing to one of the players skating in circles. He catches his girlfriend pointing at him and gives her a wave, which makes Andrea giggle. The boy with the number 10 plastered on his back, turns upon seeing his buddy wave to the bleachers. You catch his eyes and feel a shiver run down your spine. Even from afar, you can tell those are the most beautiful and enchanting eyes you ever did see. “Who’s number 10?” you ask Andrea without taking your eyes off the boy. Without even noticing, you start to trace his features on your leg with your finger, a habit you developed over the years. His chiseled cheekbones, his fine nose, the wrinkles by his mouth as he smiles up at her. “Charlie. Sam’s best friend,” Andrea explains while you try your hardest not to stare at the cute hockey player while you’re tracing him. “Wouldn’t get too close though, I heard he has a reputation of being a heartbreaker.” Of course. All cute boys have to be absolute disappointments. Despite Andrea’s warning, you couldn’t help but think about Charlie every minute of the day. It was the smile and the eyes that haunted you through every lecture and every study-session with Andrea in the library. You traced his features on your empty papers on automatic pilot, not even realizing you were doing it until you were actually drawing him with a ballpoint pen. “Honey, no!” Andrea says sternly. The two of you are at the library, studying for midterms when the drawing on your notes starts to take shape. The shape of a certain hockey player. “I can’t help it, Andi! He’s in my mind and I just -- my brain just tells me to draw things and he’s been the only thing on my mind lately, I… I don’t know why or what it is, but I’m kind of drawn to him?” The girl in front of you shakes her head disappointedly. “Look at him!” she whisper-shouts, nodding her head to somewhere behind you. You slowly turn your head to find Charlie with one leg up on a chair, leaning his elbow on it as he’s flirting with a girl. “That’s number five this week… And it’s Tuesday.” You can’t help but stare at him though. His profile is impeccable. Before you know it, you’re back to tracing his features on your leg. “Y/N!” Andrea shouts in a hushed tone, capturing your attention again, ruining your entire mental picture of Charlie. “You ought to stop that, sweetie. I don’t want you getting hurt.” “Oh, I don’t get hurt, Andi,” you reply with a smirk, turning to face her again, “Being the antisocial kid in high school has its perks.” Andrea’s eyes widen at something behind you. “Time to prove it then,” she mutters. You quickly hide your drawing underneath your textbook and pretend to continue studying as Charlie approaches your table. “Hello, ladies,” he greets with a charming smile. Though on the inside you’re just about melting, your tough exterior doesn’t give it away. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He reaches a hand out to you. “I’m Charlie.” You glance up from your textbook, let your eyes dart from his hand to his face and turn back to your textbook. “Okay…” he mutters, feeling a little defeated by his first rejection. “We’re studying, Charlie. Can we help you with anything?” He glances over at you for a split second as he thinks about it.

“Uhm, yeah. Are you guys coming to the game this weekend?” His flirty demeanor changes all of a sudden to someone less confident. You look up at him, wanting to break your antisocial facade because it never brought you anywhere in High School and won’t bring you anywhere now. “I might. If I don’t have anything better to do, that is.” You decide to run with the sassy-bitch inside you. Charlie actually looks disappointed with this answer. “Okay…” he turns back to Andrea, “You’ll come, right?” She nods her head. “Can you convince her?” You chuckle at his desperate attempt, which earns you a glare from him. “She can make up her own mind, Charlie,” Andrea replies, raising her hands in defense. Gruntled and disappointed, Charlie turns around and leaves the two of you alone. “Girl!” Andrea squeals once he’s out of earshot, and holds up her hand for a high five, which you giddily give. “Told you I could do it,” you shrug with an amused smile on your face. “That was very impressive. Did you see his face when you didn’t even introduce yourself? He was so disappointed his charms didn’t work on you!” she giggles loudly. The librarian shushes her, and she holds up her hands in defense before lapsing into quieter giggles with you. You can’t help but feel bad though. Charlie actually seemed incredibly upset by your lack of interest. It makes you wonder if he actually says who people say he is. On Saturday, you go to the hockey game anyway. There’s nothing else you can do, and besides, it gives you a chance to draw a little more of Charlie in action on the ice. The surprised smile on Charlie’s face is to die for. It makes you feel like you’re the only girl he sees, like he’s not the guy people say he is. You say hello to Andrea and some of her friends you’ve met before, and sit down on the bench, immediately getting your sketchpad and pencil out. You start on Charlie, but halfway through, Andrea asks you to draw Sam too. Deciding it would probably be less suspicious if you drew the entire team, you start on Sam. By halftime, you have about every team member on your page sketched out. None of them quite as detailed as Charlie, but you’ll get to that at some point. “We’re going to say hello to the boys, you coming?” Andrea asks you when you’re shading your drawings. You glance up at Andrea, then glance down at the rink where you find Charlie already looking at you. He cocks his head, beckoning you to come over. For a second then, you’re forgetting all about your antisocial facade and feel yourself heat up. You cough the feeling away and get up after stuffing your sketchpad back into your bag, following Andrea down the steps. “You came,” he states when you reach him on the side of the rink. “Are you always this attentive?” you ask with a hint of sarcasm flavoring your voice. His chuckle fills your ears like a beautiful melody. Why does he do this to you? There honestly are so many boys that could be so much better for you, but instead, you’re crushing on the campus bad boy. “Are you always this hostile?” You’re dumbfounded at his comeback. No one ever called you hostile. Antisocial, sure. A bitch, multiple times. But never hostile. “You weren’t paying a lot of attention to the game though?” he says, changing the subject upon noticing your reaction. “Well, neither have you if you noticed me not paying attention,” you shoot back, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Touché,” he chuckles. “But seriously, what were you doing?” You open your mouth to say something, but are stuck on what to tell him. Do you lie to him? Or say the truth? “I--I’m an arts student, and I draw pretty much everything I see, so…” His eyes widen at your response, as does his smile. You’re not entirely sure if telling the truth was a good idea. He might just run off, like everyone in High School used to do when you told them you drew them, no matter how good it was. Everyone always thought it was creepy, so you tended to keep all your art to yourself. “Can I see?” he asks just as the ref blows his whistle, signalling the start of the next half. He gives me an apologetic look, thinking of a good compensation. “Stay after the game?” You know you shouldn’t. You know Andrea is probably right and he’s the biggest womanizer walking this earth, but looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes and witnessing his lips curl up into the most beautiful smile, you can’t help but nod your head. His teeth bite down his lip as he skates away, keeping his eyes on you.

“What was that about?” Andrea asks you when you take your seats again. You let out a deep, confused, yet content sigh. “I have no clue…” For a while, you watch the game -- mostly Charlie -- and witness him making a goal. You, along with all the other supporters of the team, get up from your seats, cheering loudly. Charlie looks up at you, a wide smile plastered on his face as he points to you. Your heart skips a beat, not expecting him to do something like that at all. “Someone has a crush on you…” Andrea whispers in your ear, a teasing smile on her face. “No, he doesn’t! That wasn’t for me…” you try to reassure yourself, but fail miserably. That was for you, and you know it all too well. Another thing you know, is that this probably shouldn’t be quite as heart-melting as it is. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself…” Andrea mutters before turning back to the game. This is not what you thought would happen in your first month of moving to Canada and starting anew at another college. Not at all.

The game is coming to an end now, and you’re still watching. Yes, you read that correctly. You’re still watching the game. A sports game. You! You never thought you would even last ten minutes watching, but somehow, Charlie made it all the more interesting. After every goal he’s scored, he pointed up at you, making you blush like crazy. You have absolutely no idea what’s happening or why he’s doing what he’s doing. All you know is that you like it. You like the way he makes you feel like a normal person for once in your life. Like you’re important. Like you matter. For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re the weirdo art kid that sits on the sidelines, drawing everything and everyone they see. “We’re going to go for some drinks with the team, want to come?” Andrea asks when the game is over and the players all head to the dressing rooms and the crowd files out of the bleachers. “Oh, uhm… I think I might stay a little while longer, you know? Work on my sketches,” you try your hardest not to smile like an absolute crazy person. Andrea raises her eyebrows at you, giving you a knowing look. She can just about see right through you. “Just be careful, okay?” she takes you in for a quick hug goodbye and then leaves with her friends. You sit down again and take your sketchpad out of your bag to kill some time while waiting for Charlie. He probably has to shower and change out of his gear and talk to his buddies before coming out to find you. For a while, you just sit and stare at the drawing of all these boys. They’re scattered all over the paper, but only one really captures you, and that’s Charlie. He’s the boy in the center of the page. Somehow, you really managed to bring out his very best features. His sparkling eyes, his chiseled jawline, his sharp cheekbones. On that page in front of you is Charlie. Though the others somewhat look about right, Charlie really takes the crown in this picture. It’s almost like you’ve studied him so well, that you drew him this perfectly. Which is only half true. All it took was one look and you had him down. All of his features, all of his details. You had it all down from one single look at him. You’ve started adding some more shadows to his face, the world around you vanishing as those eyes stare right back at you. You’re so enthralled, you don’t even notice the real life Charlie walking up to you until his voice reaches your ears. “Hey, sorry if I made you wait long.” Your head snaps up and your eyes widen, almost looking like a deer caught in headlights. He places his bag on the bench in front of you before sitting down next to you. A scent of minty freshness and invigorating citrus meets your nostrils. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it,” you tell him with a smile, carefully closing your sketchpad and sticking your pencil between the rings at the top. “That was a very good game,” you compliment him, nodding towards the rink to emphasize. “I think… Not really a sports person.” He chuckles at this, glancing down at the floor bashfully. “I guess I found my lucky charm.” The second he looks up at you again and those words tumble out of his mouth, you can feel your stomach do flips. To cover the way it actually makes you feel, you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly. “How many people have you said that too, hm?” you ask with raised eyebrows. His smile falters at this, making you realize that it might not be something he likes to hear. The same way you don’t like hearing you’re a creep or a stalker for drawing pictures of people. “I don’t know what people have said about me to you, but I really am not what they peg me for.” His voice is soft, and for the first time since meeting him, he sounds fragile. “You sleep with two different people in one week, and they have you pinned down as the campus’ man-whore.” You give him a sympathetic smile, even though he’s not even looking at you. “I’m not actually this guy that sleeps around, you know? Sure, I flirt with a lot of people, but if your reputation precedes you, well…” he trails off at the end, and then finally looks up at you. “I know how you feel…” you start carefully, which captures his undivided attention. “There was this girl in high school and she had the most beautiful features, you know? Sharp jawline, the deepest dimples in her cheeks when she smiled… I couldn’t help but keep drawing her. She just took so well on paper, and when I showed her, she called me a stalker and a creep. From then on out, I became the stalker creep from Valley High.” You roll your eyes at the memory of Kiara and everyone else at that school. “So, I have a reputation that precedes me too…” “It’s nice to know I’m not alone,” Charlie says with a light-hearted chuckle. “Could I… Could I look at your work?” he carefully asks, pointing at the pad in your lap. You wrapped your fingers around the leatherbound sketchbook, debating it. “Promise you won’t run when you see what’s in here?” You offer it to him, and he grabs it, but you’re holding it so tightly, he can’t take it. He raises an eyebrow at you. “What? It’s not like you drew me or anything, did you?” he jokes, to which you just press your lips together in a thin line. His expression softens in realization. “Oh…” You stare at him for a moment, both of you holding onto the pad. “I promise I won’t run, okay?” You slowly let go of the pad. He places it on his lap and starts flipping through pages. The first few drawings are random kids from campus, either studying in the library or reading a book underneath the big maple tree. Then follow Andrea’s drawings. She suggested being your model, she said you could ask her any time you wanted. After that, Charlie’s sketches follow. The first few are of him during practice with his helmet on. On the next page, are the ones you drew in the library. Some profile, some portrait. He then flicks to the one of all the players, and shuts it after finding empty pages after that. It’s silent for a moment, like he’s taking it all in. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shown you that,” you quickly say and reach for your book, but Charlie has a steady grip on it. He finally looks up at you, a shocked expression on his face. “No. No, it’s just… I wish I knew the name of the artist that captured me so realistically on paper.” You swallow a lump in your throat as his hazel eyes bore deep down into your soul. “Uhm… Y/N,” you introduce yourself shyly. “I just have a habit of drawing people with really nice facial structure, I guess…” you add with a nervous chuckle, staring down at your fingers as they play around with the bracelets around your wrists. “Huh…” You look up at that, wondering if it’s a weirded-out ‘huh’ or something else. “What?” It comes out in an unwanted whisper. “No one’s ever given me a compliment about my facial structure,” he smiles down at you. It’s the most overwhelming feeling of warmth radiating through your body from that one smile. “It’s true though! If you check that last page of the whole team, the others don’t really have that sharp a jaw or chiseled cheekbones like you,” you state, pointing at the sketchpad. He opens it on that page and watches it for a couple seconds. “This makes me feel like the prettiest boy on the team.” He closes it again and hands it over to you, looking straight into your eyes again. You swear you’re going to faint one time if he keeps on doing that. “You are the prettiest boy on the team, Charlie,” you joke, grinning teasingly whilst clutching the sketchpad against your chest. Charlie chuckles at this, and you swear you can detect a slight blush on his cheeks as he looks down at his feet again. “You want to get out of here?” he then asks, “We could go to the coffee shop across the street to warm up? Get that little nose of yours back to its normal color.” He softly boops your nose, which is no doubtedly red from the cold from the ice rink. You giggle nervously, and then nod your head in agreement. The two of you get up from your seats and grab your bags. Before you even realize it, Charlie has grabbed your freezing hand in his warmer one, and guides you down the bleachers all the way to the café across the street. The warmth engulfs you like a welcome hug as the two of you take a seat in a booth by the window. “What’s your go-to coffee order?” he asks, perusing the menu even though he knows what he wants. You scan the booklet, looking for the one thing you always get. “A cappuccino with whipped cream,” you reply, pointing at the order on the menu. “Ooh, good choice!” he agrees excitedly, “Would choosing a hot chocolate make me less cool?” You chuckle, “Well, it’s a hot chocolate, it’s bound to make you less cool.” He laughs at your joke, throwing his head back. You can’t help but laugh along, mostly at how adorable he is in a fit of laughter. “Good one, Y/N,” he says. You give your orders to the waitress, and lapse into a conversation about everything and anything. He asks you about your college major, and you ask him all about hockey. The way his eyes light up when he’s talking about the sport he loves, or anything he loves, is endearing. You can’t believe Andrea made you stay away from him for so long. Charlie really isn’t the bad boy jock she had him pegged for. If anything, he’s the opposite. He’s kind and considerate, and incredibly ambitious and passionate about everything he loves. You just want to know everything about him and spend as much time with him as possible. Without even realizing it, you’re tracing his features again on your leg, preparing for yet another drawing of him. Preparing for more adventures with him.

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years ago

Text

Little Red Lies - Chapter 1

Or, AUgust 2021 Day 10 - Fake Dating

{Next}

Words: 5,439

[Booked tckts yet? virge wants 2 check u still need 2 places 4 reception dinner]

Trash Rat 22:57

[cant w8 2 meet ur new ~date~]

Trash Rat 22:58

Roman stared at the messages for several long seconds, then groaned.

[Of course I booked tickets. Yes I still need the +1 seat.]

Roman 23:04

[cant believe u havent even sent a pic or yk a name]

Trash Rat 23:06

[no shame if ur still </3 ovr remy]

Trash Rat 23:06

[even tho its been 2 yrs now]

Trash Rat 23:07

[Of course I’m over remy. You’ll meet my boyfriend when we get there. He’s shy.]

Roman 23:07

Roman seriously considered throwing his phone across the room and booking a plane ticket to Alaska rather than Manhattan. That way, he wouldn’t have to go to his brother’s wedding and admit that he was most definitely single and most definitely not over his ex boyfriend (of seventeen months - two years was an unfair exaggeration).

[u kno virge h8s not knowing whos coming to his wedding right]

Trash Rat 23:10

[I know, I know, I’ll apologise as soon as we get there. He’ll be first to meet my bf, promise.]

Roman 23:11

[book ur fuckin plane tckts ro, I know u didnt do it yet]

Trash Rat 23:11

Roman threw his phone across the room.

It bounced off of his Heathers poster and landed on his desk, which was covered in scripts, textbooks, empty takeout containers, balled up bits of paper, crumpled drinks cans, and pens, and Roman buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

Ten months ago, Roman’s sister had flown down to Los Angeles, dragged Roman out of bed and announced that he was actually Roman’s brother. Almost sooner than Roman had been able to take this in stride, Virgil had added that he was marrying his boyfriend in December and would Roman mind being one of his groomsmen? While Roman was still reeling from the bombshell that was the fact that their gremlin of an elder brother Remus was Virgil’s best man, Virgil had leaned forward and asked if Roman was doing alright because he couldn’t help but notice that his dorm room resembled ‘the result of an explosive going off in a pigsty’.

Roman had blinked dumbly at him, nodded, and then started pressing for details about Virgil’s wedding. Eventually, his brother had promised that he’d get Patton, his fiance, to call Roman to discuss every detail, from location to napkin frills, and Roman felt that he had managed to avoid the topic of how he was doing.

When he and Remy had first broken up, midway through last July, Roman had gone to pieces. He had spent the end of the summer holiday between his first and second years locked in his room and listening to the same few songs on loop until Virgil, who was three years older and had been packing his things to move into his new apartment, had put his fist through the wall between their rooms. Then Roman had put his headphones on. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he was too uncivilised to appreciate the wonders of ‘Michael In The Bathroom’, ‘Someone You Loved’, or ‘Impossible’, after all.

Then Roman had gone back to university, where he had tried to drown himself in reading for his degree, and instead ended up sleeping through lectures after all-night crying sessions. He had tried to submerge himself in his essays and instead ended up daydreaming about his ex-boyfriend in study sessions. He had tried to get involved in theatre productions, but every audition had gone sour, and he often ended up thinking about the few times he and Remy had met up over the previous year rather than learning his lines.

Everyone had said that long distance relationships would be hard, but Roman, the romantic fool that he was, had insisted that they could do it.

They couldn’t.

Eight months ago, nine months after the two of them had broken up, two months after Virgil had announced his wedding plans, Remus and his partner had flown into Los Angeles and tried to stage an intervention. This had involved Remus trying to seduce the campus security guard and almost getting reported to the police (Roman had always insisted that his mustache only made him look sketchy), followed by Janus sneaking past the pair of them and into the building. Remus had somehow managed to join him moments later, and the two of them had somehow made their way up to Roman’s floor without alerting anyone else of their presence.

Roman had been woken by a furious hammering at his bedroom door at a little after four in the morning, and had to wade through a mess of papers and laundry to find that the two of them had knocked on every single door on his corridor, unable to remember which was his. He had not been popular with his dormmates the next day.

Their intervention had involved sitting on Roman’s bed and sharing the leftover pizza that had been on Roman’s desk for the last three days, and telling him to wash the dirty clothes all over his floor. Then they had tried to persuade him to accompany them to a bar to hook him up with somebody, and Roman had quickly concluded that the pair was somewhat drunk.

He had vehemently refused, and when Janus had eventually rolled onto his back, dark hair dangling off the edge of the bed and onto the sticky patch of carpet that Roman had spilled soda on three weeks ago, he practically whined that Roman was being very difficult when all they were doing was trying to help him.

“Trying to help me? You’ve disturbed the people I live with at fuck-o’clock in the morning! I have class tomorrow!” Roman was sat at his desk chair, trying very hard to ignore the stack of textbooks he was supposed to have read and hadn’t.

Remus rested a hand on Janus’ hip to stop him from rolling off the bed, and raised a lazy eyebrow at him. “Cut the bullshit, little bro. We all know you haven’t been to class in… How long, Jan?”

“Two months, three weeks, and four days,” Janus sing-songed.

“How the fuck do you know that?” It sounded about right, anyway, and Roman had a feeling that if he denied it this would just take even longer. He spun around in his chair and picked up a pen from his desk. “It’s my business if I don’t go to class.”

“Called my sister. Jannie takes all your classes, you know…” There was the sound of shifting fabric, and when Roman glanced back, Janus was sitting up and tucked under Remus’ arm again, looking very much as though Remus had just placed him there.

“You’re right, Ro. It’s not my business if you’re not going to class.” One of Remus’ hands trailed slowly up and down Janus’ arm, so casually Roman could almost believe that his brother didn’t realise he was doing it. “But it is my business that my little brother isn’t taking care of himself anymore. You haven’t answered my calls since before winter break. You obviously haven’t been eating healthily - this pizza tastes like you fished it out of the garbage, by the way, and I would know - and you look as though you haven’t seen the sunlight since last July.”

The assessment wasn’t quite fair. Roman might have been skipping classes, but it wasn’t as though he had just been lying in his room and wasting away! “I went to the gym last week. And I auditioned for the musical in March. I’m fine, Remus! Can I go to bed now?”

“No! We’re going to a club!”

Janus had nodded enthusiastically at Remus’ words, then rested his head on his partner’s shoulder as Roman shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to go to a club. I want to go to bed. I have class tomorrow.”

“Nope.” Remus’ hand rose to tangle absently in Janus’ hair. “We’re going to a club, and you’re gonna find some hottie to fuck all the yearning for Remy right out of you. Then you’ll feel much better!”

“You’re pulling my ha-”

“Fuck no. We’re not doing that.” Roman pressed his palms into his eyes, then stood up and jerked his door open. “Can you go now?”

“Give me one good reason why you getting laid is a bad thing right now, Ro, and we’ll leave.” Roman had gotten as far as opening his mouth before Remus interrupted. “See? You can’t. You need to move on, man. Clinging to Remy is clearly unh-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“-ealthy, and- What?”

Maybe it was because it was four in the morning. Maybe it was because Roman hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and Remus had managed to step on the last of his fraying nerves. Maybe it was just because he wished it was true.

“I have a boyfriend,” Roman repeated, and felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the obvious shock on Janus’ usually impassive face. “Three months. Met just after term started. It’s pretty serious, actually.”

“Bullshit.” Remus looked half impressed.

Now it was irritation that flickered through Roman. Was it really so unbelievable that he could have found somebody else? “It’s not.”

“You fucked yet?”

“Remus…” There was a warning note in Janus’ voice, and Remus sighed.

“None of my business. Got it. Do we get to meet him?”

“He’s shy.”

“Which is another way of saying he doesn’t exist.”

“Asshole. It’s another way of saying that it’s four in the fucking morning and he’s asleep. You’ll meet him at the wedding, anyway - I’m going to ask him to be my plus one when Patton sends out the RSVP date.” The words had been out of his mouth before he had had time to regret them, and Roman had spent the last eight months trying to sidestep questions about his non-existent boyfriend.

He had later found out that Remus and Janus hadn’t really come down to see him. They had gone to Los Angeles to celebrate their two year wedding anniversary and decided they might drop in while in the area. (Just because they had eloped rather than holding a big party, Janus had commented idly, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate it).

But now it was December, and Roman was partner-less and running out of excuses. His lie had gotten out of control, and he had ended up asking Patton and Virgil to include his partner in the guest numbers. He had invented dates they had been on for his mother when she had asked, and he insisted that his boyfriend was shy and had practically no internet presence anyway, so knowing his name wouldn’t help anybody.

He could just say that the two of them had broken up and go home alone, of course.

But that would mean disrupting the meticulous wedding seating plan Virgil and Patton had been making for months.

Besides, Roman was fairly certain that nobody in his family really believed in his mystery boyfriend, and failure to produce one after months of insisting that they would meet… Well, he didn’t want to open himself to that sort of ridicule.

Of course, it didn’t look as though he had much choice.

He hadn’t managed to make many friends at college.

In his first year, Roman had spent a lot of time trying to keep on top of his schoolwork and working toward the various theatre productions the school had put on; all of his free time he had spent planning dates for when he and Remy finally visited one another, or else video calling his boyfriend. There simply hadn’t been time to make many friends during that.

His second year… Well, Remus had been right. He had spent most of his time in his room, eating junk food, watching sappy romance films, and missing Remy.

So far, he had spent his third year trying to bring his grades back up to something more respectable… And missing Remy.

He knew it was pathetic. It had been almost a year and a half since they had broken up, and he still missed being able to call someone to talk about nothing at all at two in the morning, missed planning extravagant dates, missed the feel of hands in his hair and lips on his.

At least his floor was cleaner than it had been last year. And he had eaten slightly less fast food this semester than the previous one.

Roman’s phone chimed again. With a frustrated groan, he made his way over to his desk.

[Looking forward to seeing you on Monday!!! <3 <3 <3 !!!]

Pops 23:25

Patton.

[Me too, Padre! I’ll bring some of that fudge from the shop you love!]

Roman 23:26

[eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <33333333 Can you get some of the currents+salt? Vee loved it last time + I want to surprise him]

Pops 23:26

[Will do. Looking forward to seeing you too!]

Roman 23:27

Patton would probably be the most understanding if Roman decided to come clean about his lying - but Patton was the worst secret keeper Roman had ever met. He and Virgil had been dating for almost three years, and in that time the thin voice actor had managed to spill every single plot twist in every single show he had watched or acted in. Roman had no doubt that Virgil would know that he was bringing home fudge within the next hour. If he admitted to Patton that he had been lying about having a date for the wedding, Roman would get Patton’s kind - if confused - reassurances, and half an hour later he would get the mixture of mockery and horrible pity that would come with the rest of his family finding out that he still wasn’t over Remy.

Roman let his phone slip through his fingers and land on his desk once more. Three days, and then he’d have to come clean - until then, he could just avoid thinking about it. Collecting the overflowing basket from the corner of the room (he had been putting off doing laundry for a while now), Roman left his room and headed toward the building’s basement laundry room. Term had finished last week and it was almost midnight - he doubted anybody would be down there now. Most people had probably already gone home, or were making the most of the free time to go out rather than spend it doing chores.

The light was off in the basement when he got there, so Roman left it that way as he loaded his clothing into one of the machines.

Moving around in the dark was far more of a Virgil move than a Roman one, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something comforting about the-

“Sweet fucking Shakespeare!” Roman’s hand flew up to cover his eyes as light burst through the small room, quickly followed by the strong smell of coffee.

“Sorry! I was unaware that there would be anybody in here.” As Roman dropped his hand, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, the newcomer made his way over to the machine on the far side of the room from him. “Most people prefer not to fumble around in the dark.”

Remus or Remy would have made some comment about how fumbling around in the dark could be quite fun really. Roman just shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

He had expected the other man to say something; instead, silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the powder tray being opened, filled, and closed again.

Roman didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He had seen the person in the room next to him only twice so far this term, and only knew his name because the mailroom was organised by room number rather than alphabetically, and the name Roman Prince was right next to Logan Ursa.

Logan looked more tired than he had on either of the other times Roman had seen him. There were deep bags under his eyes, the shadows almost deeper than Virgil’s had been at the height of his eyeliner experiments, and the black ponytail that hung halfway to his waist was missing, replaced with what could only be described as a thicket of tangled hair. It looked as though he had been outside even less than Roman had in the past few months: his skin was so pale it seemed to glow under the fluorescent laundry-room lights. There was a steaming mug and a thick book on the lid of the machine beside him, and Roman had the strong feeling that it wasn’t the first coffee Logan had had that evening.

The washing machine Logan had been loading began to rumble, and as the other student straightened up and picked up his book, Roman made himself duck back down to finish his own task.

He’d have to come back to collect his clothing later - Roman suddenly regretted deciding to get this done now, when it meant he would have to return at almost two in the morning, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

“Do you want me to leave the light on?” He was more trying to make conversation than anything else: Logan was perched on one of the machines in the corner, nose already buried in what Roman could now see was a heavy medical textbook.

“Obviously.”

Yeah, he probably should have guessed that.

Logan was still in the laundry room when Roman returned to collect his clothing two hours later. He was still sat on the same machine, although now he was speaking into his phone in what sounded like rapid Italian. (It definitely wasn’t Spanish: Roman was almost fluent in Spanish). (The languages were similar, but although he could guess at a few words, he had no idea what was going on). (Not that he was eavesdropping, of course). Logan’s hair was even messier than it had been before, and out of the corner of his eye Roman caught him jerking his free hand through it once or twice.

Roman pulled his now-warm and dry clothing from the machine and dumped it into his laundry basket, doing his best to ignore the way Logan was practically shouting behind him, but couldn’t stop himself from startling at the wordless, frustrated yell that came from the taller man a few minutes later. He was halfway to the door, but paused and glanced at Logan, who was stuffing his phone angrily into the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

“Everything okay over there?”

“Family stuff,” came the snappish response. Roman watched for a few seconds as Logan knelt in front of his own machine and began jerking clothing from it, folding pants as though he wished he were ripping them to pieces instead, then throwing several dark shirts over his shoulder and stalking over to one of the ironing stations.

“Pretty loud family stuff,” Roman commented, then wondered why he was bothering. It had been clear from his first meeting with Logan that the other student wasn’t there to make friends: Roman had been carrying a large cardboard box into his room the day he had moved in, and bumped into him in the hallway. Logan had looked him up and down, said something like, “Keep the volume down. I’m here to work,” and marched past him as though Roman were no more interesting than a hat stand.

Sure enough, Logan didn’t turn to face him, instead ironing a shirt in a manner that strongly hinted that he wanted to make it beg for mercy. “None of your business family stuff.”

“Are you-”

“None. Of your. Business.” This time, Logan actually did glance over his shoulder, and fixed Roman with a scowl that suggested that if he didn’t drop it, his face was going to be the next thing under the iron.

Roman left quickly. He had done his best to be friendly, and if Logan wasn’t interested, that was his problem. He didn’t seem like the sort of person Roman would really want to be friends with anyway.

Logan’s haggard expression lingered in his mind as he made his way back up to his dorm room and began stuffing his now-clean clothes into his wardrobe. He should probably start packing - his suitcase was sitting open and empty against one wall - but he had plenty of time.

Besides, he was exhausted.

Roman had changed into a pair of sweatpants and gotten into bed by the time he heard the door to the room next to his slam shut. Clearly, Logan was still annoyed by whatever ‘family stuff’ had had him first yelling into his phone and then taking his frustration out on his laundry and somebody trying to be friendly.

How long could Logan hold a grudge? Was he the kind of person who would calm down after a couple of hours of sleep, or would whatever he had been arguing about be hanging over him for the next week or so? That would make the winter break uncomfortable…

Or maybe he wasn’t going home. He had looked pretty invested in the textbook he had been studying earlier, despite it being almost midnight and no longer termtime. Maybe Logan was going to stay in the dorms over the winter break and use the hours without lectures for private study.

That sounded like a lonely way to spend the next three weeks.

The idea struck Roman suddenly, and he sat bolt upright in bed, the kind of elation that only comes with golden inspiration coursing through him. He would persuade Logan to come back home with him for the holidays! If Janus took it to mind to ask Janine about him, she’d be able to verify that Logan didn’t socialise much; all he would have to do would be show up briefly for the wedding, and he could spend the remainder of the holiday studying all he wanted, away from ‘family stuff’!

He would ask Logan the following morning, and when he agreed, Roman would book the plane tickets home - he’d pay, of course. Or rather, he’d use the money his mother had sent him so that he could bring his fictional boyfriend home. Either way, Logan wouldn’t have to spend any money himself!

Laying back down, Roman pulled his thin blanket back up to his neck and rolled onto his side, satisfaction warming him more thoroughly than any hot drink could.

This was the best idea he’d ever had.

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard.” Logan glanced into the hallway over Roman’s shoulder as though expecting an audience for a practical joke. “I cannot believe you have wasted my time listening to you.”

“Is… That a maybe?” Roman tilted his head and gave Logan his best puppy eyes.

Alas, Logan’s heart must have been made of stone. “No.” He made to slam the door.

Well, Roman couldn’t have that. It had been difficult enough to get Logan to even open the door in the first place, and harder still to get him to listen beyond the initial “I need you to do me a huge favour, okay, but it works out for you too.” In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have led with that. But then he had explained, and for some reason Logan was still trying to close the door on him.

“Ow!”

“That was entirely your fault.”

“You just slammed the door on my foot!”

“You did put your foot there after I had begun closing the door. My point stands.”

Technically, Logan was correct, but Roman wasn’t there to quibble over technicalities. “You got the part where I’d pay for your flights, right? All you have to do is show up for one day in something resembling formalwear, and in return you get rent free accommodation and food all holiday! Plus company!”

“I have too much to do to pretend to be your boyfriend for three weeks for no reason. Find somebody else.” Logan made to close the door again, and this time Roman caught it with his hand.

“There is nobody else!” Roman was aware that he was beginning to sound desperate. “You’re like, the only person I know!”

“That sounds like your personal problem, not mine.” Several strands of hair had fallen from the impressive tangle around Logan’s ears and into his face, and he blew them out of the way. His breath smelled like coffee - bitter coffee. Roman wrinkled his nose. “Let go of my door.”

“Come on, Logan! What else are you going to be doing this holiday?”

“Studying! I have exams to pass!”

“You can study at my place. You won’t have to pay holiday rent there!”

“I won’t have to pay holiday rent if I go to my mom’s place, either! Let go of my door!”

Roman finally pulled his aching foot out of the way, but didn’t remove his hand from the wood. “You don’t want to go back to your mom’s place, though, do you? The phonecall -”

The glare that Logan sent him could have frozen the insides of a volcano, and his voice was suddenly cold enough to make Roman shiver. “Good day, Roman.” This time, Roman jerked his hand out of the way, and the door snapped shut in his face.

Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to use Logan’s ‘family stuff’ against him. He made a note of that for future reference, then hammered against the door again.

“Please, Logan!”

Silence.

“I’ll be forever in your debt!”

More silence. Maybe Logan would prefer something a little more extravagant?

“I’ll sing of your virtues from the rooftop every night for the rest of the year!”

Nothing.

Okay, maybe that had been a little much. Logan had made it clear that he was there to work and didn’t want to be disturbed in his caffeine fueled study crusades, so something excessive was possibly the wrong way to persuade him to do this.

Oh-

“I’ll pay for your coffee for the rest of the year?”

Roman held his breath and waited.

And waited.

Just when he thought that he had been wrong and that Logan really wasn’t going to be persuaded, the door opened the tiniest of amounts. Logan was still frowning at him, but some of the ice was gone from his expression.

“That’s your dealbreaker? Coffee?”

“I drink a lot of coffee.” A slight deepening in the crease between Logan’s eyes told Roman not to push the subject. “You need a date to a wedding. In return, you pay for my flight there and back, provide accommodation for the duration of the winter vacation, and keep me supplied with coffee for the rest of the year.”

“Well, a wedding, the reception, any pre-wedding parties, and keeping up the act while we’re around other people,” Roman corrected, counting on his fingers. From the irritated twitch of Logan’s left eye, he got the feeling that he hadn’t mentioned the reception or the potential stag night in his initial pitch.

“Blue Moon or Red Planet.”

“What?”

“The coffee. I like Blue Moon or Red Planet coffee. They’re more expensive, so I don’t expect them every time - maybe a ratio of three regular jars to one nice jar.”

Roman blinked. “Uh… Okay.”

Logan nodded once. More hair fell over his eyes. “I’ll draw up a schedule and provide you with estimated projections of my coffee habits for the rest of the year so you can budget accordingly. When do we leave?”

“Um… Monday.” Still reeling from Logan’s sudden and complete 180, Roman cast around for something to say, but the long haired man got there first.

“Monday. That gives us approximately two and a half days to draw boundaries and fabricate enough pictures and stories to give our deceit credibility.” Logan closed his eyes, and Roman realised that he was staring again. He hadn’t expected the other to take this in stride so quickly. “Given that I have work to finish today and you will likely need several hours on Sunday evening to pack… Have you told your family how long we have been romantically involved?”

“Uh, since January. But I told them you were shy, so we don’t have to have any pictures or anything - we can say that all our dates were just pizza and Netflix, and…” He tailed off at the incredulous look on Logan’s face. “What?”

“You expect them to believe that we have been dating for eleven months and you haven’t taken a single photo? Roman, I have listened to you belting the lyrics of more break-up songs than I care to count.” Roman shrugged, and Logan rolled his eyes. “You are quite clearly a romantic. Had we really been dating, the number of pictures you would have taken on whatever extravagance you planned for our six-month anniversary alone would be infinitesimal.”

He had a point.

Roman had already stretched his family’s belief in him to breaking point (and probably well past it) by refusing to share even the smallest thing about his ‘boyfriend’ over the past eleven months; if he didn’t get home on Monday with at least a couple of dozen photos to share, their charade would be over before it could ever really begin. “Right. You’re right. We’ll need to spend the weekend planning, doing a photoshoot - it’ll be fun!”

“You,” Logan started, already retreating, “obviously have a different definition of that word than I do. Eight thirty tomorrow morning, The Roost. Bring a notepad, your phone, and a couple of changes of clothing suitable for various weather conditions.”

“Eight thirty? A prince needs his beauty-”

“Eight thirty. We are going to do this properly.”

Roman’s phone was in his hand barely seconds after Logan’s door had closed (albeit more gently than before).

Groupchat: Princes and Co.

[Can’t wait for you to meet logan!]

Roman 09:58

[a name!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[we have a name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[such a nice name! can’t wait either, ro!]

Pops 10:01

[About time! I’ve been stalling on the place settings for weeks waiting for this name]

Emo Nightmare 10:02

[Was about to fly out to LA to strangle it out of you]

Emo Nightmare 10:04

[he was. i had to physically restrain him from doing so yesterday]

Padre 10:04

[bet u both enjoyed that ;);););););)]

Trash Rat 10:04

Several people are typing…

[Suck a dick, Remus]

Emo Nightmare 10:05

[we did, actually]

Pops 10:05

[would but janjans at work :((]

Trash Rat 10:06

[Didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know.]

Roman 10:06

[Pat!]

Emo Nightmare 10:06

[Logan Ursa??? 4th yr medic??? Coffee addict???]

Snake Eyes 10:06

Roman stared at his phone for a second. That was faster than he had expected.

[u knew????? jan u held out on me??? the luv of ur greyspec life???]

Trash Rat 10:07

[You told Janus?! I’m your brother! He’s not even related to you!]

Emo Nightmare 10:07

[No I didn’t tell Janus!]

Roman 10:07

[I’m omniscient.]

Snake Eyes 10:08

[Plus I just asked Jannie for a list of all the Logans you could have associated with.]

Snake Eyes 10:09

[You and your sister scare me]

Roman 10:11

[He has surprisingly little internet presence.]

Snake Eyes 10:11

[Told you. He’s shy]

Roman 10:12

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Roman returned to his room and picked up his laptop, this time to actually book the tickets he was supposed to have booked weeks ago. He had no doubt that they would arrive on Monday to discover that his family had already unearthed everything there was to know about his fake boyfriend - should he break that news to Logan before or after they were on the plane? Making the man paranoid might make their weekend photoshoot a lot more difficult.

Their photoshoot! If Logan was really on board, Roman would have to make this as easy as possible for him - and the performance of a lifetime for himself. Given that he was expected to bring a notebook to their meeting tomorrow, they were going to have to do a lot of brainstorming, so he might as well start coming up with ideas now. He already had a few as he grabbed a notepad from the mess on the floor and started hunting for a pencil.

No matter what his fake date said, this weekend was going to be a lot of fun.

#AUgust 2021 #fake dating au #logince #moxiety #dukeceit

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Until the End of the World - 19

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2174

Rating: E

Warnings: Descriptions of giving birth

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 19

Bucky was having a lot of difficulty hiding his panic. There were a lot of emotions coursing through him right now. Fear, excitement, stress, confusion, happiness all surged through him, mixing to make him a highly anxious mess. He welcomed those feelings. He normally shut down so much while on a mission and retreated into his ‘winter soldier’ headspace that he felt nothing at all. Seeing you in that hall with Viper attacking you, he’d reacted on instinct, firing his gun before he even considered all the ramifications of it. It would have happened anyway, when he was the soldier he assessed risk quickly and acted without question. Seeing you had just increased the urgency of it.

As Viper dropped to the ground the actual reality of what was happening crashed down on him, thrusting the soldier back into the dark and dragging Bucky right into the driver's seat again, and now he was crouched on the floor of what looked like an office, in a secret underground HYDRA base, cradling his son, and a crying infant, while you were on all fours giving birth to his daughter.

“Okay,” he said to himself as he tried to soothe the two crying children. “Okay. I’ve got this.”

“Bucky,” you wailed. “Bucky… I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this.”

“It’s okay, babe,” he said and rubbed Geo’s back. “G, I need you to be really brave for me buddy. I need some help.”

Geo shook his head and pushed his face a little harder into Bucky’s neck.

“Geo,” you said. “Your sister’s coming. And your mom needs me to help get him out. I can’t do that if I have to hold you and the baby. You think you can help me out?”

Geo raised his head a little and wiped his eyes. He gave a small nod.

“Thank you. I promise as soon as I can, I’ll pick you up, and you can sit right here if you want,” he said, as he put Geo down. “Now I know this baby is crying a lot, but I need you to hold them okay. You want to sit down and I’ll give the baby to you?”

Geo looked at you and scrambled back against a wall. Bucky carried the crying baby over and crouched down again. “Can you do this, buddy?” He asked.

Geo nodded and Bucky put the squalling infant into the little boy's arms. “I know it’s not fun,” he said and took his earpiece out and put it into Geo’s ear. “Here, you can talk to your dad, or FRIDAY to distract you. But I need you to be gentle and just hold the baby like that. And when your dad is at the door, you can let him in, but don’t let in anyone you don’t know, okay?”

Geo nodded and Bucky pressed a kiss to the boy’s brow. “You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you,” he said.

Bucky didn’t feel great about leaving Geo with the baby, but there wasn’t much choice. He returned to your side and knelt behind you. “I’m here, honey,” he said, gently massaging your hips. You hadn’t changed position since he’d left you - you were still on your hands and knees, but now your arms were bent and you had your forehead pressed on your forearms and your ass popped up in the air. “You comfortable like that?”

“No,” you whined. “But it’s the best I can get. Bucky how is she?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know, babe, but I can see her hair. She has your hair. I bet she’s going to look like you.”

“Do I push?” You asked. “I don’t know if I should be pushing.”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t know, honey. Do you feel like you need to?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“Then push. I’m right here. I’ll get her,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident about this than he felt.

You moaned as you strained and more of the baby started to show. Thankfully Bucky had paid attention to the birthing videos in class, because this had to be the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, and he’d seen some pretty weird things. It was blood and messy and it looked like she was about to tear you in half. “You’re doing great, darlin’. Keep pushing.”

You strained again, bearing down and the baby’s whole head slipped free. Bucky used his fingers to pull her chin free, and tried to get her shoulders into a better position. “Looking good, honey. Nearly there.”

The door opened and Bucky barely heard it over your moans and the cries of the infant with Geo. Geo’s voice grabbed his attention though. “Daddy!” Geo said.

Bucky whipped around, first looking at Geo who was sitting in the corner with the baby and then to the door where he was looking. Steve stood, filling the frame, his shield in hand, and standing in a defensive position as he surveyed the situation in front of him. He quickly put the shield on his back and strode inside. “Honey, are you okay?” He asked, crouching by your head.

You nodded. “They gave me something…” you said, sounding almost apologetic.

“It’s okay. We’ve got you,” Steve said.

You winced and strained again, pushing. Bucky helped wiggle the baby’s shoulders free and she slipped right out. As soon as her body was free her tiny newborn wails joined the other baby’s cries. “She’s here,” Bucky said, holding her in his arms and lifting her for you to see. “You did it.”

You rolled onto our back and started to cry, and Bucky carefully put the infant on your chest. With all the things he’d done in his life. All the lives he’d taken, he had never been responsible for bringing life into the world. It felt good, even under these insane and tense conditions. He only took a moment to appreciate it before getting up and going to Geo. “Okay. You did so well,” Bucky said, taking the baby back from the boy.

Geo got up and scrambled over to you and Steve, crashing into Steve’s side. Steve picked him up and put him on his hip. “Did you help?” Steve asked gently.

Geo nodded but didn’t say anything. Bucky wondered how long it would take before Geo would be able to shake any of this off, or if he’d ever be able to. How much can a kid go through before it does permanent damage? “What happened? Who’s baby is that?” Steve asked.

“Can you help me sit up?” You asked. Steve helped you into a sitting position and let you lean against him. “They’d been keeping other people here. From the tests. I don’t know if they’d had them from the start or if they only bought them in recently… but… they … they were breeding them, Steve. Like they were animals. Trying to replicate Geo. That baby… I don’t know if there are more, but his mother asked me to look after him.”

“Okay,” Steve soothed as you, babbled to him. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He paused and held his hand to his ear. “Tony… she just gave birth, we’re going to need a medivac… Alright… page me when it’s clear.”

“What’s happening?” Bucky asked.

“They’re still rounding up the last of them,” Steve asked. “Geo, can you tell if there are any other exits that our friends didn’t come through?”

Geo shook his head. “I didn’t let ‘em out,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Good boy,” Steve said. “You’ve been so brave and done so well. You know that?”

“Steve… Steve…” you said, shaking your head. “Steve we need to say he’s ours.”

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

“There’s no record of him being born,” you said. “No one will know. We need to say he’s ours. That I had twins.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, gently. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“She made me promise if anything happened to her…” you implored. “Please, Steve.”

Bucky looked down at the tiny infant in his arms. He could pass for Bucky’s if not anyone else’s. He was a little bigger than the little girl now on your chest, but barely. Though, with the fact she was still attached to her umbilical cord, Bucky wasn’t sure how easily they could fake it.

“We’ll work it out,” Steve promised. “I swear, he’ll come home with us. You won’t break your promise.”

It was another hour before the site was secure and a medical team managed to come and collect you. In that time, you had passed the placenta too, and Steve had sent one of the legion down to the med bay for a clamp and he’d clamped off and cut the umbilical cord. You and the two infants were taken by ambulance back to the tower and to the medbay. The facility was state of the art and it meant that the baby - Gal - could stay with you because anytime that it was even hinted at that he be taken away, you would start to panic again.

Geo wouldn’t leave your side and he didn’t particularly like it if Bucky or Steve went anywhere either. He stayed on your gurney on the ride out of the HYDRA facility and all the medical checks that you and he had to do, had to be done in the same room.

You, Geo, and the two infants were finally sleeping. Geo was sleeping in the crook of your arm on the hospital bed, and they’d set up two more for Steve and Bucky to use because Geo didn’t want to have anyone separated.

Steve had used the opportunity to go sort out some of the legal paperwork and make sure that every i was dotted and every t crossed. When he returned to check on everyone, he looked tired and frazzled.

“Still sleeping?” He asked as he sat down next to Bucky on the couch in the corner.

Bucky nodded. “They’ve been through a lot. “It’s going to be a while before they get over this.”

Steve frowned and nodded. “We should have been more careful.”

Bucky nodded. “Can’t do anything about that now,” he said. “We’ll be more careful from now on.”

Steve sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. Bucky took his hand and linked their fingers together. “It occurred to me while I was talking to Ross, we haven’t named our daughter yet.”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah. I guess that’s what happens when you take the ‘wait to meet her approach and then meeting her is an unmitigated disaster,” he said. “It can wait. She’s here and safe. That’s the main thing.”

Steve nodded and let out a breath. “Yeah…” he turned and smiled at Bucky. “Look at you, choosing the positive side.”

Bucky laughed softly and shoved him. “Jerk.”

The two men remained silent for a moment, just watching as the rest of their family slept. “What are we going to do about Gal?” Bucky asked eventually.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not opposed to adopting him. You know biology isn’t important to me. But what if he has family out there? And I mean that really… what if? They have a right to know and they would have been grieving over his parents. But if they want to raise him, what if they’re not set up for it? And what if he has no family? We’re having enough trouble trying to adopt Geo, and that’s with his biological mother’s permission. What if they deem us unsafe? And who could blame them, look what happened?”

Bucky frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know… I guess…” Steve said. “I guess I’m saying, maybe we should just lie about his birth. Say they are twins. We were the only ones there for her birth. Who’s going to argue? Some imprisoned HYDRA agents?”

“You’re seriously considering it?” Bucky asked. “That’s … kind of illegal, Steve.”

“Because I’ve never broken the law when I thought it was necessary,” Steve snarked. “Did you forget I was a war criminal?”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, if you’re serious, I’ll support it, but you better decide one way or the other. Because it needs to be done when we fill in the birth certificates, and we’re going to need to convince some doctors to back us up.”

Steve nodded and ran his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand. “I know,” he said. “I have FRIDAY discreetly searching for his family based on what we know. It’ll be easier to decide if we know either way.”

Bucky nodded and smiled a little. “Be good having a great big instant family though, wouldn’t it?”

Steve let go of Bucky’s arm and wrapped his arm around him. Bucky leaned into the embrace as Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s hair and inhaled. “We’ll figure it out,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed. He knew they would, it was just that there was so much. He hoped the choice they made was the right one.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #until the end of the world

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captains-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Text

Changes of Winter

Universe: Harry Potter

Character: Severus Snape

Type: F!Reader Insert (You, Yours)

Words: 4,020

Prompt: Hello- Idk if you're still taking requests for Snape but could you possibly do one kinda based off the song Heather by Conan Gray? Like reader and snape are students and she likes him but hes too hooked on Lily to notice? Maybe even ending with like some fluff and them getting together in the end? Idk- up to you! And sorry if you weren't taking requests I dont mean to be a bother. (Sometimes I mix posts up where people say they are taking requests and not) 😅

Notes: Am I obsessed with snow and winter??? Maybe... Are y’all obsessed with Snape? YES, I HAVE SO MANY SNAPE REQUESTS! 😂 I haven’t proofread this guys I’m sorry! Some platonic Lupin in here for you too!

Enjoy!

“Are you cold?” You were torn from watching your breath disappear with the cold but gentle breeze. Your feet shifted and creaked in the snow as you turned to see Severus approach you with a book tucked into his chest.

“Severus,” You gasped softly and smiled, taking a moment to release your breath slowly, “It is snowing.” You stated the obvious as if he didn’t notice and he smirked at your sarcasm.

“I can see that. Where’s your scarf?” He frowned when you averted your eyes then turned towards the lake.

“Out there somewhere.” You shrugged and shivered the cold from your bones.

“Why is it out there?” He ducked to catch your gaze and you glanced sheepishly at him.

“I may have said some things to some people in defence yesterday. So they may have decided to push me and my scarf into the lake...” You smiled awkwardly and he sighed.

“Is that why a certain someone went to the infirmary with a broken nose last night?” He raised his brow.

“Yes. Yes it is. I have detention later so...” You didn’t quite get away with your crimes and he sighed again as he always did when you got yourself in trouble, it almost got longer as each year was passing. You tried to laugh it off but a shiver crept over you instead. Severus saw this and removed his scarf then held it out to you. You stared at the scarf draped over his palms and tried to decline but he stepped forwards and stapled it around your shoulders instead, flicking one end over your shoulder to loop around your neck. His scent immediately filled your nostrils and ran through every fibre of your being as you subconsciously hugged it closer to you.

“Thank you.” You muttered through the fabric, hiding the huge grin plastered across your face. For a moment you had not locked gaze with each other as he earnestly muttered a ‘You’re welcome.’ Yet, as quick as the gaze had lasted, his eyes fell behind you and his whole form softened. You took a moment to register his distraction and followed his gaze to a plume of red hair that fluttered gently against the shoulders of none other than Lily Evans.

Even you were taken aback by her beauty sometimes, you couldn’t really blame Severus or anyone else for that fact in being completely enthralled by her. You couldn’t help the jealousy you felt and how you envied her. You wished Severus looked at you like that. You wished you could distract him simply by walking into his view. You wished you were Lily Evans.

Then again, you watched James trail behind her, pushing every compliment under the sun at her. That you could do without if you were her but you weren’t her and never would be, especially in Severus’ eyes.

Her eyes flickered over to Severus and she smiled, adjusted her course and made her way over. Your chin fell to your chest and you sighed as she greeted you both. Severus returned his sentiments but before you could even half ass some form of greeting, James spoke up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be staying away from me?” He puffed his chest out and you turned and lifted your head to meet him.

“You came to me.” You folded your arms as you stood your ground.

“You did break his nose.” Lily stated, not defensively but casually.

“He pushed me into the lake.” You defended yourself.

“Because you punched him.” She stated again and you stifled a bemused laugh and looked at James who saw he had been caught in a lie.

“Is that what you’re telling people?” You laughed once again, “Is it too embarrassing to tell people that I was standing up for my friend,” You motioned briefly to Severus, “as you belittled him and you got so angry that you pushed me into the lake? So hard that I broke the ice and cracked my wand. Might even have drowned if Remus hadn’t pulled me out.” You stared him down- hard, making him regret ever bringing it up in the first place as Lily turned slowly to him.

“You said it was in self defence.” She folded her arms.

“It was!” He insisted.

“Of what? Your pride?” She scolded him and they started arguing so you turned to Severus again.

“You were defending me?” He spoke immediately.

“Of course. I don’t like people talking about you like that.” You cleared your throat awkwardly. He opened his mouth to say something but his gaze once again wandered over to Lily, which honestly at this point was annoying. She had started walking away, telling James to leave her alone and that she had just wanted to talk to Severus in peace. You looked back to Severus who stared longingly after her, almost pained.

“Go.” You told him and after a beat, he was following her leaving you alone to sigh through the pain you felt.

You understood he had known Lily a little longer than you, but she wasn’t really there for him as much. You assumed that with each passing year he would get over her a little more but not once did his admiration for her dwindle. Even as she got together with James he still felt a burning desire for her.

Now that they were together, Severus had less time to spend with her, uninterrupted time anyway and he would find himself moping about it around you. He would never expressly talk about it, come to think of it he had never even mentioned the fact that he even liked her but you knew it and you knew what pain he was feeling just by looking at him because you were feeling that same pain. The only difference being that he was bitter about it, his pain made him bitter and resentful which was difficult to deal with. Half of the time you would tell him to let things be and not be so bitter but he would either end up storming off or resigning himself to complete silence for the rest of the time spent together.

The more this happened, the more you thought about distancing yourself from him, as painful as it would be it had to be less painful than watch him fall and break for another woman that wasn’t you. There were times you were almost successful in breaking away but watching his heart break with nobody to fall on felt worse. Really you were all he had, not that either of you really knew it.

You found yourself feeling more alone despite deciding to stay close with him still, especially when he would get angry and storm off, leaving you alone for a few days until he decided to speak to you again.

It was one of those days where Severus was off elsewhere, possibly cursing you judging by how your day had gone. Everything seemed to have gone wrong, nothing major but all these little things had built up which in turn built up your frustration. In your free period you decided to sit by the lake to read and breath in the autumn air that was quickly being chased away by the sting of winter.

“Bit cold down here for you to be sat on the ground isn’t it?” The voice of Remus Lupin made you jump and you leapt to your feet.

“I came here for peace until you came.” You put your hand on your hip.

“I came here for peace too.” He took a step towards you and you stepped back. He raised his hands as if he was taking a wild animal. “Calm down.” He chuckled.

“Forgive me for not trusting any of you snakes around lakes.” You weren’t really being rude but you did have a point. You found Remus to be the more tolerable of his little group, he was paired with you in some of your classes and you found he had a pretty decent sense of humour.

“I don’t blame you really.” He laughed and sat down next to where you had been perched against a tree, pulled out a book then patted the space next to him. You rolled your eyes and went and sat next to him, flipping your own book to the page you had been on before. You both read in silence for a while until he sighed.

“I am sorry that they’re rude to you.” He turned to you with furrowed brows.

“So you keep saying.” You spoke flatly, not bringing your eyes away from your book. Truthfully he would always apologise for anything that happened to you on behalf of his friends.

“I do mean it though.” He said sincerely but what difference would that make.

“No offence Remus but it means nothing coming from someone who did nothing. Nothing to me yes, but do you say anything about it to them? I don’t suppose you do. Besides, I’m not the one who should be getting the apology in the first place.” He knew you meant Severus. Severus got it worse than anyone in that school.

“I know...” He whispered and you fell into silence while reading again.

He walked you back to the castle and to your next class with him, then to the hall for lunch afterwards.

Shortly after you sat down and bid your farewells, Severus slid himself into the space next to you.

“Were you just chatting with Remus Lupin?” He asked immediately.

“Welcome back.” You simply said, waiting for his inevitable apology before doing the same thing again a week later.

Winter had come in thick and fast as it did every year, but seemingly quicker this year. Perhaps because it was the final year and not long until you would be done for good.

“Does she even know?” You interrupted Severus’ thoughts as he watched James and Lily dance at the Yule ball.

“Know what? I thought you weren’t coming.” He tore his eyes away from her for a split second to glance at you, taking in your dressy appearance and you sighed.

“You’ve been badgering me all week to come so you wouldn’t be alone. It’s our last year here you know and there’s not much left of it at that.” You twiddled your thumbs nervously as you watched him carefully and leaned up against the wall.

“What are you getting at?” He suddenly snapped his head towards you and you averted your eyes momentarily, trying to bide your own time and calm your nerves somehow.

“I don’t know. It’s just been a long time Severus. Perhaps it’s time to let go.” You barely whispered but he knew what you said, perhaps ignoring it this time because it was Christmas and he did not want to storm off on you now. Though in reality you were perhaps talking more to yourself than you were to him in the first place.

A shadow cast itself between the two of you then and you looked to see Remus stood to the side of you.

“Can I help you?” You asked a little amused at the odd smile that graced his lips.

“I came to ask you for a dance.” He announced almost smugly.

“Is this a joke?” You looked around him for his friends, trying to catch a glimpse of them snickering away somewhere.

“No.” He had a goofy smile on his face that you were still trying to decide if it was genuine or not..

“Drunk?” You narrowed your eyes in amusement.

“A little.” He admitted with a chuckle.

“That explains it.” You laughed and glanced at Severus who still had his eyes on his prize but was listening in for sure because he rolled his eyes at Remus’ demeanour.

“Aw come on, I would actually like to dance with you. I thought we were getting on!” He slurred slightly and you started to wonder where he was finding whatever alcohol he had been getting at, perhaps it would have helped your nerves.

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” You had to admit you had become quite accustomed to his company.

“Yes! And I saved your life once so let’s say you owe me.” He flicked a finger gun my way and I laughed again.

“Alright. So if I get up and dance with you, and it’s all one big joke, you know I’ll break your arm right?” You shifted your body in preparation to follow him.

“I promise you, I just want to dance.” He said earnestly and held his hand out to you. With a quick glance at Severus who was still engrossed elsewhere, you took his hand.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You pushed yourself from the wall and saw Severus out the corner of your eye finally turn to look at you as Remus towed you away.

That had been the last time you had seen Severus as your friend before school ended, the next time you had seen him you had gotten into a big argument with him about the whole ordeal. He wasn’t happy that you’d made friends with the likes of him let alone danced with him. You said he was being stupid and you defended Remus for not playing a part in the teasing and bullying but as you had said to Remus, he hadn’t tried to stop it, so you supposed Severus had every right to be mad.

If you’d have known he would end up being a Professor at Hogwarts with you perhaps you wouldn’t have accepted the position but then again, Dumbledore practically begged you to come and it couldn’t all be bad could it? It would be easy enough to avoid him or ignore him for the most part, aside from your gut practically kicking you every time you saw him.

There was a full moon out and you needed moon water so you chucked a warm robe on and meandered down to the lake, perhaps your favourite place despite almost dying in it. You opened your pouch of empty vials and crouched by the water, taking your time to carefully bottle the water and take in the crisp autumn air of September.

A shadow came over you and you moved slightly to glance at the reflection in the water.

“Severus.” Your heart stopped for a moment and you almost choked on the breath you didn’t even know you held. You stared at each other through the reflection of the lake for a while, neither knowing what to say. You were shocked he had approached you and perhaps he was a little shocked too, only that he was bold enough to do it.

You studied his features that had grown stronger as he had matured and he studied your own features, each of you coming to rest in the eyes that had not changed really, only that his held a different expression as they watched you now. Mind you it had been a while since you’d seen eachother.

He crouched beside you and held his hand out beside you, after a moment you passed him one of your empty vials which he promptly filled as you placed the bag between you so he could help. A silence fell between you for a while. Not an awkward silence but it was fairly jarring.

Once your vials were full he pulled out a different shape and sized vial and rolled it between his fingers before finally looking at you to tell him what you wanted in those. You looked at the vial then slowly at him, finally seeing not just a reflection.

“Mugwort.” You practically whispered and he raised his brow.

“I have Mugwort you know.” He pursed his lips.

“I like to do my own foraging. Besides I’m willing to bet you’re the kind of man who resents anyone coming to you for supplies.” You mirrored his expression.

“I know.” He thought for a moment, “You’re right, yes.” A very low chuckle escaped him, almost as quiet as a breeze but you heard it and things felt almost normal- too normal. You could feel yourself melting for him all over again, not that you didn’t melt when you saw him around but the acknowledgement of eachother changed the whole thing and it scared you. The small smile that had graced your lips watching him chuckle crept away, as if your memory had been wiped.

“You should know... I..” He trailed off and looked at the ground between you with his brows furrowed as he tried to speak. He took a breath and calmed himself before looking dead into your eyes.

“I really made a mess with you. I wish I hadn’t gotten so angry for no reason.” This was his attempt at making amends- beginning to at least.

“I understand.” You assured him you bore no I’ll will against him for his anger, after all you had understood why he was angry.

“It’s not just that really, I suppose. I wish I’d seen you more.” He was being very cryptic. What he was saying was difficult for him and though didn’t quite know what he was saying, you understood that he was trying to talk sensitively which was hard for him.

“Right?” You pressed him, ignoring the knot in your stomach.

“I’ve missed you.” He sighed, deciding he had said enough for now but it wasn’t the end of it. You on the other hand were lost. You hadn’t expected something like that from him but not only that, all hopes of forgetting him and moving on vanished like a shooting star. Would you let yourself be drawn back in by him? Of course you would. Who were you kidding?

“I missed you too.” You practically clawed for breath trying to respond to him then he smiled. A small smile but it was there, and it was beautiful .

For almost a month you we talking regularly like old friends again but something seemed wrong. There were some things he wasn’t telling you and you knew it. You didn’t want to ask him nor did you want to pressure him but you became increasingly agitated be this niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was off but you pushed it down further and further but you felt the need to be close to him, increasingly so. Perhaps it was your lovesick ways coming back stronger everyday though deep down you knew it was something else. You asked him to spend Hallowe’en with you rather randomly although he knew it was perhaps your favourite time of the year so he agreed.

The feeling you had got worse and worse that week until the Hallowe’en feast came and it disappeared completely. Even the fact that Severus was not in attendance hadn’t phased you much because you would see him that night but the night came and you did not see him. You decided to take a trip to his room to see what was up but on your way there an overwhelming sense of dread and misery washed over you, stopping you dead in your tracks and clinging to the bannister of the staircase for support. You heaved yourself to stand straight and found yourself marching to the Headmasters office where you slumped against the door and knocked repeatedly. The door opened and your arm flew across the frame to keep yourself steady.

“Are you alright my dear?” Immediately Albus’ arms came to support you.

“Something is very wrong. I came to find Severus, I don’t know why I’m here.” You were oddly calm for someone practically panicking internally. It was an odd sensation.

“Come inside.” He led you into his office and sat you down asking why you thought something was wrong.

“I can feel it. I’ve felt this odd sense of dread for a while now until this morning when it left. Not five minutes ago did it come back worse than ever and I feel... Pained.” You thought about the feeling for a moment. Yes it was pain you felt now and Albus’ stared at you for a long time until he closed his eyes.

“It isn’t my place to speak for Severus so you must ask him but I can tell you this, He is going to need you more than he ever has now. Not as a second choice but as the only one he has ever needed truly.” You were absolutely baffled by what he said. It made no sense but all you knew was that Severus needed you.

“Should I go to him?” You whispered and he shook his head.

“I would advise you not to. He will return soon then I will take my leave.” You nodded slowly as he spoke.

“Might I stay here until he returns?” You asked flatly and stared at his desk.

“Of course.” He touched your hand.

You had fallen asleep at some point waiting for him, the numbness putting you to sleep but you woke up to Severus gently touching your shoulder with no sign of Albus.

“I’m sorry I missed Hallowe’en with you.” He sounded exhausted.

“It’s alright. What happened to you?” You had your head tilted back and looked directly into his eyes.

“Come.” He instructed and walked you to his living quarters where he sat you down next to him on a small sofa. He explained to you that Lily and James had been murdered by Lord Voldemort. He continued to explain his own hand in the scheme and some things you’d never expected nor wanted to hear. Though you were glad he seemed on the right path.

“I’m sorry, Severus. I know she meant the world to you.” You gently placed your hand in his in comfort but he flipped his palm up to take hold of your hand instead.

“I loved her, yes. She was not the one for me however. I ignored everything from you, even when it was my own pain I felt being mirrored back to me and I only came to realise that when you left to dance with that Lupin boy. I was angry at myself for not seeing you there all those years and I still took it out on you, as if you hadn’t tried. I suppose I’m telling you this now so no matter what you think about my choices right now, at least one of us got to say something.” You’d never heard him ramble like that before, only when he was arguing but this was a different type.

“It’s a lot to take in, Sev. I can’t deny that I’m happy you told me all that and frustrated that it took so long to get to this moment plus with all the extra information.” You paused for a moment and watched him retract his excitement from the situation. “I’ll adjust though. For now let’s take it one step at a time though?” You proposed and he nodded, a small smile creeping across his face but it was shadowed by the events of earlier.

“I’ll stay with you.” You whispered and leaned over to him, gently wrapping your arms over his shoulders and kissing his cheek. Neither of you knew how long you could stay with him but one step at a time right?

#reader insert #severus snape x reader #severus snape #snape x reader #snape #harry potter #fan fiction

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters <33

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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tooruluv · 4 years ago

Text

Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 3 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,210

warnings/notes: um yeah. this one moves fast, but this whole fic is basically about this one scene, this one part. so enjoy. no serious warnings, just strong language and some gay shit. angst.

tag list: @afuckingunicornn

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“You’re... gay?” you whispered.

“It isn’t a fucking slur, you drunk ass.” Iwaizumi spoke, shoving you with his arm (making you hit your head on the door, but you barely noticed). “And I don’t know what exactly I am, but I just know it’s not straight.”

“Matsu?” you turned to the other boy.

“I’ve been gay, and Iwa is sexy as fuck so who am I to deny his sexual awakening?”

It almost made you laugh.

It was hot in the closet. Dark. And you were squished in between two (very tall) men. A single light hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.

“I uh,” You were so numb. You played with your sleeves. “I watched ‘Kawa make out with this girl. Stood there like an idiot and watched it happen. And it… it sucks to like know about it but to see it…to watch it happen…it’s way worse.”

“Oh,” They both said, sadness laced behind a whisper.

“You were going to tell him, weren’t you?” Matsukawa inquired.

You gasped, turning wide-eyed to Iwaizumi. He held his hands up in surrender. “You told him?” and “I didn’t tell him I swear!” coming out of both of you at once.

“I knew for, like, years now.” Matsukawa interrupted. “You’re the most obvious person ever, just so you know. You might as well be the fucking heart eye emoji whenever you look at him.” He paused to gauge your reaction, which was nothing. “Back to my question: you were going to tell him, weren’t you?”

“I..” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, I think so? I don’t know. I just know I really wanted to talk to him and see him and hear his voice. And I still do. But now my mind is full of him and the really pretty brown-haired girl exchanging spit.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe we should get out of the closet and get some air.”

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in the guest bedroom. Iwaizumi had taped a piece of paper to your forehead (“drink water” it said), and a blanket was wrapped around your upper body. You could not remember what happened after leaving the closet, how you ended up in the guest room, or why you were on the floor and not in the perfectly good bed above you.

But, nonetheless, you got up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Where the fuck is Oikawa?

A loud thump interrupted your thoughts. Yup, there he was. You let out an annoyed groan as he decided to make the most noise possible on his way to the kitchen.

You pulled yourself onto the counter, wanting to slam your head against the cabinet. You never got hangovers, why was today the day you got one?

“Well don’t you look beautiful this fine morning.” Oikawa greeted, smiling.

He always looked his best in the morning, you thought. He may come across as perfect, but it makes your heart do flips when he comes in with bed head and his glasses on. Not to mention he looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning sunlight, beaming and bright.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” Your eyes were still closed.

You heard movement, a cabinet open then close, and only opened your eyes when he stood in front of you (in between your legs, no less). You held your breath.

“I look amazing, and you know it.” He was so close you could feel his breath. He brushed his teeth, the smell of mint circling you. Why was he so close?

He reached forward, pressing his hand to your forehead. Still half awake and clearly extremely hungover, you leaned into his touch as he moved his hands to your cheeks. His eyes scanned your face, but your eyes never moved from his.

His hands paused and stayed on your neck, just below your jaw. Hovering.

Unconsciously, you leaned forward. Only a little bit.

And he did too.

Your lips were so close. If you wanted to, you could kiss him. Just like that. A few centimeters away, and you could do what you’ve wanted to do for years. Feel what it would be like to be one of the many girls who had their lips against his. The air was so tense, so full of something you couldn’t explain. Just a few centimeters. Was he leaning in too?

He moved back.

“Medicine for your head, and you have a little bit of a fever so there’s something for that too.” Oikawa spoke. His voice sounded deeper, but maybe you were just thinking things. A small cough from him. He put pills into your hand. “You get something to drink. I’ll start picking up trash, you’re on…”

“Cups and cans duty.” You finished. It was always the routine. “Thank you.”

“Don’t slack off too much, you fucking drunk.” He joked, smiling at you with a trash bag in his hand.

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the nearest empty can at him. You smiled, but your heart was aching.

The first time Oikawa had ever thrown a party, it was a disaster.

People flooded the house, though it was only supposed to be a small get-together and ended up a huge banger. The school talked about it for a while. An increase in his popularity.

The two of you were left to pick up the mess.

“Where the fuck do we start?” you asked, staring into the abyss that was once his living room.

“I’ll pick up the garbage and you pick up the cans and bottles?” Oikawa suggested. “If my mom finds any alcoholic beverage in this house she will pelt me with my own volleyballs.”

“I’ll help too.” Oikawa’s older brother said from the doorway, trashbag in hand. “Let’s get to work. We only have until six.”

Matsukawa soon joined your routine.

For the past month or so, Iwaizumi would eat lunch with you in the library as you studied for the entrance exams. Oikawa would join sometimes, or he would come right before lunch was over. He liked to eat lunch in the cafeteria, liked to “have that break from studies”. You two didn’t mind, you got more done without him distracting anyway.

Matsukawa had become your third-party during Lunch Study Dates. You didn’t complain, and you didn’t ask the two of them what exactly their relationship was. You joked with Iwaizumi that you were simply there to hide the fact they never stopped flirting. He would just laugh.

“Wait, you almost kissed?” Iwaizumi asked, studies long forgotten.

“I think so, yeah.” You kept your eyes on your paper. “It was weird, and the air was super heavy. And he hasn’t talked to me since. Not even while we were cleaning.”

“Not even a text?” Matsukawa asked.

“Not even a wave in the hallway.”

“Now that’s weird.”

“You’re telling me.” You finally looked up. “I.. Nothing has ever happened between us like that. Ever. And it was so out of nowhere, like, you would think our first almost kiss would be some cool moment or something. But it was just us, and I was hungover as fuck, and we just spent the rest of the afternoon in silence. And all that there has been since is just that. Silence.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Matsukawa reached over to place his hand over your wrist. “You know what. Tooru is an idiot. He is. I would have kissed you.”

“You’re gay.”

“And I would’ve kissed you. That’s the highest compliment you can receive. Accept it, woman.”

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa, you knew many things about the boy that many didn’t. You knew that he always put extra syrup on his pancakes and waffles, you knew that he always preferred hot showers rather than the cold ones his mother always tells him to take for soreness, and you knew that he practiced more than anyone could imagine.

He grew up with a volleyball attached to his side. He set it whenever he could, he would serve it into your yard (and then go get it and serve it back into his). He would ask you to join, but you always just watched.

Growing up with Tooru Oikawa also made you witness his growth. And you think that’s another reason you fell in love with him.

His passion was indescribable. You couldn’t count how many times people (including yourself) have told him to relax, take a day off, remind him to eat and drink. But his heart was in it, no matter how much it distracted him from daily fleets. You admired him for that.

You didn’t have that Thing growing up. You tried a lot of different things, different hobbies and sports and classes. But you never had that thing that you had so much passion for that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

One week of silence. One week of nothing from your best friend. Not a text, a call, a smile sent your way. Not even an eye contact.

It was strange. Your entire life had revolved around being around him, your routine included smiling and walking with him in the hallway, fixing his tie in the morning.

He was already in class when you came to school. And his tie was straight.

You decided to spend most of your free time in the library, knowing that Oikawa didn’t find himself in there very often. If he was going to avoid you without an explanation, you could avoid him just as hard and for just as long. That was your logic.

Iwaizumi joined you, plopping himself down on the couch beside you. It sat in the back of the library, in the corner away from everything. You were being Sad TM.

It was so stupid, of course. To be upset or sad about something that didn’t even happen; at something that almost happened but never did. Iwaizumi reminded you that it wasn’t about the near kiss, but the silence after.

A body appeared out of thin air in front of you. You wouldn’t mistake the boy for anyone in the world.

“’Kawa.” You said, looking up. He looked way taller from your position on the couch. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said. No “nut” this time. He fidgeted with his fingers. “Can I get my jersey back? The one you wear to the games?”

Your eyes shot up.

“’M sorry?”

“Can I get my jersey back?” he asked again.

You felt Iwaizumi put his hand on your thigh. You must’ve been shaking. One week of complete silence and complete rejection and absence only to be met with the break of a tradition.

“Um, yeah.” You blinked. “Yeah. I have it at home, I can stop by later and give it to you.”

“Just bring it tomorrow. Before the game.” He spoke. But his voice didn’t sound like his. It was forced. Since when was talking to you a task?

“O.. Okay.”

A pinky promise was something taken very seriously. As kids, it was treated with the upmost respect and honor.

It was middle school, and the team announced that for a special tournament, and for school spirit, that the players would pick their best friend to wear their jersey to the games.

Oikawa immediately came to you with his “away” jersey, proudly holding it up. “Pinky promise me that you will always wear my jersey to my games!”

“Pinky promise!” you had told him.

You wore the jersey as you wrapped your pinky around his. Wearing his jersey became one of your favorite parts of going to his games.

Guess in high school, pinky promises don’t mean the same thing.

The thing about Tooru Oikawa is he never dates. This was something you knew for certain. He has never once had an official girlfriend, and he always talked about how he never planned on having one (“They’re both a distraction and a big responsibility,” he would say. “Besides, what would I need a girlfriend for when I already have a girl who does everything for me?” he would add).

Which is why you were surprised to see him hand in hand with a very familiar girl later that day. The long perfect brown hair, the long legs. After seven days of not speaking to you, he had a girl wrapped around his arm as though it was the most casual thing of him to be doing.

You stopped in front of them, trying your very best to hide your confusion.

“Oh!” he smiled, saying your name. Acting as though he hadn’t just asked you to turn in something that had meant something important to your friendship (at least it did to you). “You haven’t met Sana. My girlfriend.”

The aforementioned girl, Sana, smiled at you. Perfect teeth, of course. She gave a slight bow before reaching out her hand. Girlfriend.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve been waiting to meet Tooru’s best friend!”

You forced a smile as you shook her hand. “Nice to meet you too, Sana.”

You looked over her shoulder, to Oikawa (who looked nervous, fidgety in fact), and to Iwaizumi and Matsukawa (who stood a bit further away, but just as shook and confused as you).

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sapphosclown · 4 years ago

Text

Treat You Better - Tyrus AU

Part XIV: i guess we carried each other

Cyrus and TJ present their history project.

Masterlist

———

Cyrus was woken up by his alarm, a pleasant scene where birds are chirping quietly in the background and a soft melody crescendos into a lovely morning song.

It absolutely infuriated him.

Nothing against birds or happy music, but it’s 6am and Cyrus has been studying for midterms all week and and now he has to present a project with the guy who is mad at him for whatever unknown reason and quite frankly, Cyrus didn’t want to leave his bed ever again.

The memory of his and TJ’s rehearsal on Monday has been haunting him all week. Andi and Buffy said not to worry about it so he’s really been trying not to, but he can’t.

He misses how it used to be. TJ was always so open and talkative during their study sessions even Cyrus was rude and dismissive. He made Cyrus laugh anyways, made him feel relaxed. It didn’t feel like a school project, it just felt like hanging out with a friend. And now that he can enjoy that atmosphere, it’s taken away from him. Because of course it is.

Cyrus begrudgingly got out of bed and threw on his clothes before going to brush his teeth.

He got to school 15 minutes before the first exam period and saw Andi and Buffy in their usual spots and Jonah sitting on the table across from Buffy in the cafeteria.

“Hey, Cyrus!” Jonah smiled wide at him and held his hand up for a high five to which Cyrus responded with a weak tap as he slid into his seat.

“C'mon man you can do better than that.” Jonah said disapprovingly as he held his hand over to Buffy who slapped his hand without even looking.

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired today.” Cyrus groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Good thing I got a present for you,” Buffy sang as she slid an iced coffee across the table to him.

He looked at the coffee and back to buddy, eyes wide. “I love you.” He deadpanned, causing his friends to laugh.

“Today’s our last day and then it’s winter break, you got this!” Jonah nudged his shoulder gently.

“I think he’s just not excited for today in particular.” Andi replied, breaking apart each syllable of “particular”.

“Why, what’s happening today?” Jonah asked.

“He has his presentation with TJ today.” Buffy whispered loudly to Jonah.

“Oh.” Jonah whispered loudly back.

“You guys are so subtle.” Andi mimicked their voices.

“Whatever. I’ll be fine. Can we talk about something else?” Cyrus dismissed and took a sip of his coffee.

That lit up something in Buffy. “Oh yeah! Andi, tell him.”

“OH YEAH! Cyrus, you know how I was gonna ask Amber for her number?” She said excitedly.

“I do. Did you chicken out?” Cyrus teased, taking another sip of his drink.

Andi glared at him. “No.” she said quickly before shifting her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance BECAUSE SHE ASKED ME FIRST!”

Cyrus smiled at Buffy. “Called it.” He whispered loudly. Andi hit his arm playfully as he giggled and flinched away.

“Whatever. I still don’t know if she’s—”

“She is.” Jonah interjected.

Everyone turned to him with confused expressions.

“How do you know?” Andi asked.

“She told me. She doesn’t try to keep it a secret, did you not see the rainbow pin on her bag? Or the rainbow sticker on her name tag?” Jonah explained.

Buffy snorted.

“No I saw— She told you?” Andi asked again, still very lost.

“Yeah we’re friends.”

“Not the development I expected but a good one nonetheless.” Buffy joked to Cyrus.

“Since when?” Andi yelled.

“A while now. Our moms are friends and we have a lot in common. She told me she was gay like 2 years ago, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out.” Jonah replied.

Andi stared at him.

“You knew her this whole time, and didn’t think to say anything?”

“I didn’t realize she was the girl you were madly in love with.”

Buffy snorted again.

“I AM NOT IN LOVE W—” Andi got cut off by the 5 minute warning bell and Buffy Cyrus and Jonah all started grabbing their bags to head to class. Andi stares at Jonah, grabbing her own bag. “We’re finishing this conversation later Beck.” She threatened before walking away.

Jonah looked at Cyrus with fear in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me man!”

“What did I do!” Jonah laughed as he and Cyrus headed to their first exam.

***

The good news is Cyrus had English for his first exam to distract him from his impending doom. The bad news is English is is over and now he has to go to history.

Under regular circumstances he’d be glad that his teacher is taking these presentations for their midterm grades, but he’s kind of too busy cursing whatever god is out there controlling his life to worry about his grade.

Cyrus subconsciously walked ever so slightly slower to his history classroom, knowing it doesn’t actually make a difference to what’s gonna happen but it’s worth a shot. Turns out it kind of worked, but in the worst way possible.

Cyrus got to the room at the exact same time as TJ and they practically ran each other over trying to get through the door at the same time.

“Hey, what the hell— Cyrus!” TJ said much louder than he probably meant to.

Cyrus stood at him in shock for a second. Of course he thought to himself. “Um, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He forced a smile and walked into class as TJ called after him.

“Wait, Cyrus—” TJ said, taking a seat next to him. “Can... Can we talk?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to respond but the only sound that came was from the bell signaling clad to start. Cyrus looked to the front of the room where their teacher had already started talking.

“Alright, we don’t really have time to waste so, look for you and your partners names on the board. If each presentation is 3-5 minutes we should have some time leftover to watch a quarter of a movie. Sound good?”

The class mumbled in content agreement.

“Great. If you and your partner feel like you’d like to go over your work one more time, you can practice in the hall QUIETLY, while the group before you is presenting. Alright, first up—”

And so Cyrus spent the first 15 minutes of class sitting awkwardly next to TJ as they kept looking over at each other in what was supposed to be sneaky glances but they’re kind of bad at being subtle and make contact almost every time. Eventually the people before then stand up to present and TJ turns to Cyrus.

“Hey, can we—” He whispered pointing to the hallway. Cyrus pressed his lips in a straight line attempting an awkward smile and grabbed his bag, TJ following him suite.

TJ quietly closed the door behind them and turned around.

He took a deep breath. “Um— I just wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day.”

Cyrus shifted a bit. “Okay...”

They stood in silence for a beat.

“So...”

“That was it.”

“Have you ever heard an apology? Like ever?” Cyrus tried to joke but he knew it came off more bitter than he meant it to.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“So you’ve apologized for not apologizing, but you still haven’t apologized.” Cyrus stated.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re hard to apologize to?” TJ retorted.

“No, actually. This would be a first.” TJ smiled at that.

“Okay. I’m sorry for how i acted the other day. That wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just thought that if I pretended like I didn’t care it’d make things easier but I was... very wrong.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Cyrus snorted.

TJ looked at his shoes and Cyrus stared at him. “It’s okay. I mean, I guess I understand where you were coming from but it still kind of sucked. I thought you hated me.” Cyrus said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” TJ said again.

Cyrus nodded.

A soft smiled tugged at TJ’s lips before he tore his eyes to his notebook. “Um, good job on your section by the way, I don’t get a chance to say it but yeah. Not that I thought you’d do a bad job or anything because you’re really smart and I’m actually surprised you stuck with me as your partner because—”

“Thanks, TJ.” Cyrus cut off his rambling, laughing quietly. “You did a really good job too. And you pretty much nailed all the dates too so, congratulations.”

“Ha, thanks.” TJ clearly didn’t believe him.

“Seriously Teej,” Cyrus took a step forward and put his hand on the other boys shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself.”

Cyrus saw TJ’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink s he felt his own face burn a little. If nothing else, one thing hadn’t changed— TJ still had the prettiest eyes Cyrus has ever seen.

They were interrupted by the door opening and their teachers face popped through. “You boys are up!” He whispered enthusiastically before slipping back into the room.

The boys looked at each other a again and laughed awkwardly, both still extreme shades of red but pretending they weren’t.

Their presentation actually went pretty smoothly. The biggest issue they ran into was stuttering every here and there, but this was already ten million times better than their practice run had been. Both of them quickly melted into their dynamic and everything else came pretty naturally and they were done in about 3 and a half minutes. The class snapped quietly (as to not disturb the other classes) and they both sat down, continuing the rest of class “sneaking” looks at each other and smiling when they made eye contact every time.

***

Cyrus stared at his phone while his friends talked around him at Andi’s locker. It started with Andi scolding Jonah for not being her wingman earlier on but Cyrus lost tack pretty quickly as his mind wandered back to TJ.

He was staring at his contact in his phone and debating on sending a text. On one hand, he wasn’t entirely sure where they stood now. Were they friends again? Were they just school acquaintances again? They weren’t project partners anymore so should he keep TJ’s phone number? Cyrus could already feel that he was about to drive himself crazy and just pushed aside all his thoughts and typed out a message.

Cyrus: good job on the project today!! all things considered i think we did pretty well :)

Cyrus shuts off his phone and puts it back in his pocket as he tried to ignore the part of his brain screaming at him. He heard about 3 words in the conversation unfolding before him before he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He yanked his phone back out and read the message in the screen

TJ: thanks :) i can’t take too much credit tho, you definitely carried me the whole way through

Cyrus: you’re simply incorrect. you carried me

TJ: i guess that means we carried each other then huh

Cyrus: i guess it does

“Oooooooooo, who ya textin?” Buffy sang, poking at Cyrus’s arm.

“No one!” He tried to say but the smile on his face begged to differ.

“So did you and TJ make up then?” Andi asked.

“Yeah. We talked before the presentation and it helped.” Cyrus blushed harder.

“You should invite him to the spoon with us!” Jonah proposed.

Cyrus looked at all his friends. “Really? Are you guys sure its okay?”

“Of course! Andi’s invited Amber, who’s one more gonna hurt!” Buffy replied.

“Okay...” Cyrus turned back to his phone, his friends watching him intently. Cyrus stood still and cleared his throat aggressively. Catching the hint they all turn back to their own little conversation.

“So, words amirite?” He hears Andi say.

Cyrus: my friends and i are getting some celebratory end of semester shakes at the spoon, if you’re not doing anything you can join, if you want

He clicked his phone off again pretending like nothing was happening because technically, nothing was happening. He invited his friend to get milkshakes with his friends, big whoop. Except everyone had gone silent again and was staring at Cyrus.

“What we’re you saying about words, Andi?”

“Oh, uh—”

Their fake conversation quickly turned into a very real and heated debate about phonetics which Cyrus had invested himself in hoping to forget about the fact that a full minute and a half has already passed and he still hasn’t heard anything back.

Another minute passes and Cyrus was just about ready to call it quits when he felt his pocket buzz.

TJ: sounds fun :) i’ll meet you guys there?

Cyrus: cool :)

They get to the Spoon and see Amber sitting the the largest corner booth in her normal people clothes. She stands up and waves them over with a smile on her face.

“I already ordered some baby taters but I wasn’t sure what milkshakes you guys wanted because I can never remember who likes what.” Amber said nervously as everyone took their seat.

“That’s ok. There’s one more joining us so we’ll order when he gets here.” Jonah reassured her.

“Oh, who is it?”

As if on que, the door rang as TJ stepped inside and scanned the room, and then waving excitedly when he sees Cyrus.

“You’re joking.” Amber laughs in disbelief and stands up again, making eye contact with TJ who’s face drops like hers before they both start laughing hysterically leaving everyone feeling confused and kind of left out.

“Wait... that’s...” TJ laughed before Amber shushed him.

“I didn’t realize you were talking about...” Amber started before TJ shushed her.

“Hey, what’s going on...” Buffy whispered to the two of them.

“Oh, um, Cyrus remember when I told you I have a sister—” TJ said simply, gesturing towards Amber.

Amber turned to Cyrus and smiled and waved weakly.

“No way.” Buffy said to no one in particular as she smiled widely. She was gonna have a field day with this.

Jonah looked like he was about to pee his pants trying not to laugh and Cyrus and Andi were completely stunned and just stared at each other for a second before also laughing, the rest of the group doing the same.

“I hate it here.” Amber joked as she sat down next to Andi.

“I’ve literally never been happier in my life.” Buffy laughed as she moved so TJ could sit next to Cyrus.

“Jonah, why didn’t you tell them?” Amber yelled at him.

“I THOUGHT THEY HAD FIGURED IT OUT! Cyrus has been to your house multiple times how did you not know!” Jonah yelled back.

They dissolved into more playful yelling and despite being way too loud for this little diner, Cyrus still felt happier than he had all year.

A waiter came over after they had quieted down and took their orders. Everyone started talking about something but Cyrus had noticed that TJ’s pinky was touching his own and that was all he could focus on. It was the lightest touch and yet if felt like his skin was on fire. As if that wasn’t enough, TJ must have noticed it too, because he looped his finger over Cyrus’s, making Cyrus’s face heat up involuntarily and he hoped no one had noticed. When Cyrus didn’t move away, TJ carefully flipped his hand over and intertwined the rest of their fingers. Cyrus looked at him but TJ had gone back into the conversation. Cyrus smiled at him and then tuned back in himself.

He never wanted this to end.

He was happy.

———

previous // next

a/n: happy boys for today me thinks 😌 the angst is finally dying down and there’s i think gonna be two more chapters (excluding the epilogue) and our boys are gonna get the happy ending they deserve but for now, they hold hands under the table at the spoon and enjoy the company of their friends. ALSO I WAS LOOSING MY MIND WRITING THE PART WHERE W TJ AND AMBER OH MY GOD i hope you enjoyed lmao

also i’m updating my tag list to make sure the notifications are getting sent and if you want to be added or taken off just lmk!!

tag list:

@secretly-of-course @abg-blah @maybeldontwantheaven @thebisexualweirdo @randomsmilingpotatoes @iam-johnlocked @ohnoitsamistake18 @im-mormon-and-not-straight @unrequitedambi @marriedtobigfoot @fairygclds @c-ristopher @tylercamebackyes @tyrus-is-canon @craftyceleb @ana-lana-ding-dong @dancinglifeboat

#i finished this chapter months ago but was waiting till i finished the next chapter to post it #and i finished that last night and i thought ab waiting a lil longer to post this but i didn’t wanna #ta da #andi mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fic #andi mack fic #treat you better tyrus au #tyrus au #my writing

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lxveille · 4 years ago

Text

another love song

mk x reader

word count: ~ 2080 warnings: references to alcohol a/n: university!au; another ‘trying to get back into the feel of writing’ fic so... idk ?? tbh it’s more of a fic treatment but here’s what i’m posting anyway

Minkyun has gotten inspiration for his songs from you before. This one is different.

You’re nearly always the first person to place money into Minkyun’s open guitar case when he’s busking.

More often than not, he tries to return your money once he’s packed up for the afternoon - but you refuse, and tell him he earned it. Then he usually spends more on you than you gave by buying you bubble tea or coffee before the two of you trek back to campus.

You’re not sure what you’d do with your Saturday afternoons if not for him.

You’d met Minkyun in a literature class your first year of university. At first it had been easy to write him off as a high school class clown having some difficulty adjusting to university expectations. Except that sometimes, when your professor would really dig into the themes of a text, he’d have something to share that would stick with you. A thought - sometimes chaotically explained - that would rumble around in your brain for a week, even. Eventually, you decided a proper introduction was in order. A fatal mistake, if you’d hoped to keep up some aloof, studious front. He had a way of warming others up, it turned out. You discovered he was friends with a number of people with unfriendly faces who somehow transformed into lighthearted, open books in Minkyun’s presence.

You feel a little lighter around him, too.

And on the days you don’t, he invites you to unburden.

It became a common tableau: you sprawled out, exasperated, on the beanbag chair in his dorm room, ranting about anything that bothered you while he lay on his bed, half-propped up against the wall and strumming occasional notes on his guitar. A last complaint and a final chord, and then Minkyun would be on his feet with an idea of what the two of you should do to shake it out of your system for once and for all. Those plans only sometimes included just enough beer that the both of you were giddy and ready to laugh at anything.

If Minkyun had to name one good reason to get drunk with you, it was this: it was the only time you’d sing. The very first time you let yourself break into song in front of him had been at a bar. It had been difficult to make out your voice over the speakers, but Minkyun heard. Maybe more important, though, was the way you swayed your shoulders and rocked into each syllable.

He would tease sometimes that you ought to join him when he busked. He might make more with you joining in.

“Ah, but then you’d have to split it with me, too,” you’d reply. You assumed, at least, that he must be kidding.

It was spring the first time Minkyun asked you to listen to something original he’d composed. There was something personal about it that had never occurred to you when listening to a song before. For all the times you had watched him play, it was like looking at him from a new angle. Just as his commentary used to linger on your mind, his songs began to do the same.

And in the winter of your second year, he asked if it’d be okay to use some of your own rants as inspiration in songs.

“What?” you asked.

“Just - the way you talk about the guys you’re getting over, and stuff like that. It could make for good lyrics.”

“You’re going to quote me?”

“Well,” he lingered on the syllable, then broke into a dimpled smile. “No. But I don’t wanna take inspiration without telling you!”

So it happened that when he performed songs of his own, you sometimes began to recognize bits of your own infatuations and fallings outs weaved into his lyrics. The way he framed it, it usually made it easier to get over whoever had been behind the heartbreak.

Minkyun isn’t busking today. The drizzle is enough that it wouldn’t be worth it. All the same, he spent the better part of the morning sending you messages asking you to come over.

When you finally cave, you put on a front of unhappiness at the door, shaking out your umbrella before passing it over to his extended hand.

“I brought some stuff for my class so I can try to get work done like I’d planned,” you told him.

He pouted for dramatic flair. “So you’re really just gonna act like you’re at your room at mine?”

“That’s what we agreed to! I told you I wanna get this reading done so I can just be hungover tomorrow without having to worry about Monday’s lecture.”

“Damn, and people try to frame university drinkers as irresponsible.”

“What can I say? I’m flawless,” you comment dryly as you pass into his room.

“So you’re still going out even if the rain keeps up?” Minkyun asks. He settles into his usual spot near the foot of his mattress. You rummage through your bag for a textbook and your printed copy of the syllabus before finding a spot somewhere closer to the pillow.

“Mm,” you affirm, “I think I’m officially entirely over Seungcheol, so it’ll be good for me to go out.”

“Ahhh.” There’s something guttural and mischievous in the way he makes the sound. It’d be fair to expect some ribbing comment on how transparent you could be with these things. No such remark comes.

It’s some time later, when you’re nearly done with your assigned reading, that Minkyun announces that he finished a new song recently.

“Like one of your own?” you ask.

He nods, and adds how he’d been thinking of playing it out this weekend if it hadn’t been for the poor turn in weather.

You exaggerate a gasp. “You were going to share a song with a crowd before sharing it just with me?” There’s no real offence. It’s only a pattern that you’d noticed. Sometimes he’d say it felt needed, if only because he based part of the lyrics’ premise on your own experiences instead of his own.

“I know!” Minkyun laughs airly. “Mother nature said not to, I guess!”

“Well, are you going to play it now then?” You should tell him to wait until you’ve finished this chapter. That way you won’t entirely lose track of things. But you’re not infallible; and if there’s one thing you’re horrible at resisting it’s the chance to hear Minkyun play.

He hops up from the bed to fetch his guitar. And he plays.

It’s a love song, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Minkyun told you from the beginning - or at least when he first asked if he could take inspiration from your own heart’s tribulations - that he liked to write about that feeling. The good, the bad, or at the very least what he imagined of it.

This song doesn’t feel familiar. Usually you can tell when he’s written indirectly about your own affairs. So these endearing words, these syrupy lines of dedication, of patiently waiting for the other one to notice… They must be from his own experience.

A corner of your heart goes sour at that thought, and retorts that it might be one of his other friends. Devoted and hoping it won’t go unnoticed would be right up Yuto’s alley, you tell yourself as your search for a likely suspect. You don’t let yourself think too much on why you don’t want it to be Minkyun’s own feelings.

Except there’s something else that bothers you. The way he keeps his eyes on his strumming fingers, or closes them altogether.

Normally Minkyun looks at you now and then, and smiles at your reactions to his music. Even with the unhappy songs.

You squeeze the textbook in your lap. A corner digs into your palm. He’s somewhere in the second chorus and your mind is fogging over with an irritation. It’s not his fault. You’re not mad at him.

You just wish you had realized you want to fall in love with Minkyun sooner.

The last chord hangs in the air before you can fully process this thought. He looks at you expectantly.

“What do you think?” Minkyun asks.

You force a smile. “It’s sweet.”

He leaves space for you to elaborate. When you don’t, the corners of his lips drag down a bit. “Just sweet?” He repeats. “Is it lame?”

“No! It’s just - it’s different from some of your other stuff. But it’s sweet. I like it. I think, um… I just was expecting it to be something based on my whole recent back and forth thing. Since you wanted to play it for me,” you try to cover for your lackluster response.

Minkyun looks you over for a moment, then chuckles. “Not every song can be about your love life.”

“I know! Of course! Geez, that’s not what I meant,” you rush to say, loudly, as if you needed to cover the sound of some kind of fracture in your heart.

He leans forward to set his guitar carefully on the tiles, its neck leaning against the bed frame. “I guess that’s not totally accurate to say here though.” He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks your way again.

“...What?”

“Ah… You’re pretty clueless, huh?” Minkyun sounds content with himself, and he’s barely holding back a grin.

“I’ve never gone on like that about someone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You eye him over a few times quickly, trying to reach a conclusion that feels safe. All you can theorize for sure is that he’s practiced this all, and somehow it’s going to plan. Maybe. “What are you on about?” you ask, tone turning suspicious.

He laughs more fully now, then shifts his position to face you directly from the other end of his duvet. “You.”

You glance around him like this could be some hidden camera prank. “What?”

“You,” Minkyun repeats, “It’s about you.”

In the most foolish move of the day, you suddenly felt your throat dry out the same way it does before you cry. It must have been too much at once: to realize a desire and think it ripped away only to have it suddenly offered up so easily, so soon.

“You’re not serious.”

“Is it bad if I am?” he asks, leaning to the right a bit as he watches your reaction. You press your palm to your clavicle, trying to get your heart and your mind in sync. “Am serious, I mean.”

All you can manage is a shake of your head.

Minkyun grins bright and leans forward to put a hand over the one still at your side. “You really didn’t notice?” He pulls off incredulous and teasing in one go. If you weren’t so off kilter, you might want to scold him for it somehow.

“What was I supposed to know?” You ask instead.

He shakes his head. For a fleeting instant, you worry he’s about to brush the whole thing aside. That worry is killed pretty quickly when he leans closer instead and delicately presses an experimental kiss against your lips.

Minkyun is back to his side of the bed in the next moment, nearly like it hadn’t happened at all.

Your hand lifts from your clavicle to allow your fingers to brush over your own lips, still tingly with the affection. Or maybe just from his lip balm rubbing off on you.

He gives you a second more before asking, “Still okay?”

“Um, yeah.”

His smile returns. “Still going out to find someone new tonight?”

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and accuse, “You’re the worst.”

“So… is that a yes, you are?”

He knows it isn’t.

He’s spent all this time getting to know you. Now he gets to be the one on the receiving end of that look in your eyes.

“Would you stop that?” You muster up as much of a snip in your voice as you can. Your gaze gives away that you’re not really annoyed. It would be difficult to be, given the way your head is still spinning from his confession.

“Stop what?”

The smile on his face suggests he already knows. Nevertheless, you don’t give Minkyun the satisfaction of admitting he’s teasing you. “Just kiss me again,” you swerve to a demand. Frankly, it’s the main thing you’d been thinking since the first. You’ll figure out the rest of your feelings later.

For now, Minkyun is hardly going to deny you that.

#onf scenarios #onf imagines #mk x reader #park minkyun imagine #onf fanfic

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