#Prompt: eggnog and mittens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lonelyreputation · 3 years

Text

'tis the damn season (college au)

A/N: Hello!! I’m back with some holiday angst 💥 It’s been a busy holiday season for me, but we made it!! I hope you all have had a lovely December so far!! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!! Thanks a million million for all your support!! ✨🎄⌛️🍫☕️

Prompt: You’re back in Canada for the Holidays after leaving for California three and a half years ago. And while you’re home, you run into your ex-boyfriend––Shawn––and things get…Complicated.

(heavily inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift)

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Allusion to Sex (no smut directly written) // WC: 12.6K // Angst & Fluff

A gust of wind hit your face like a hundred needles pricking your cheeks. The frigidness of the dry air caused you to shut your eyes tight and sniffle.

It was the first week of December, and the temperature was just a little below freezing as you walked around an outdoor market that was decorated for the Holidays. Bright string lights were wound around the trees; with even more lights zig-zagging from the tops of them, that mimicked stars in the night sky.

The Christmas music that played above the shops through speakers sounded more like a quiet hum beneath people chattering and hurrying off to the next shop. And there was the occasional cry of a child when their parents told them they couldn’t get the specific toy they wanted.

Even if a person didn’t celebrate Christmas, it definitely would put them in a festive mood.

“A little cold?” Your friend–Tara–bumped your shoulder with a chuckle.

You glared at her, shoving one of your mitten clad hands further into your jacket pocket. Unfortunately your other hand was preoccupied by holding onto a bag full of Holiday presents.

“It’s too cold.”

You could see Tara’s breath when she tipped her head back and laughed, “That’s what happens when you leave for California and have only been back three times since you left.”

At her comment, you shrugged your shoulders. She wasn’t wrong, and her tone was more lighthearted than malicious, but you still felt a pang of guilt. You left the quiet town of Pickering for the booming city of Los Angeles for university. And in the three and a half years you’ve been at university, you’ve only been back home three times.

Whenever you did come back home, it was kept to a week––or shorter––and you solely only saw your family and Tara. But your mother convinced you that it would be nice to have you home for a majority of the holiday break. So that’s how you found yourself back in Canada, when you could’ve been basking in the warmth of the sun in California.

“Any other plans for when you’re home?” Tara asked as she steered the two of you over to look at the front windows of a shop.

You rolled your eyes, “Just sitting on the couch.”

“There’s no one else you want to see?”

The undertone of her quick response was not lost on you. You glared at her, “You know I only see you and my family whenever I come back.”

“But you’re never back,” Tara tore her attention away from gazing at the shoes that were way too expensive for either of you to buy. Her eyes were slightly larger than normal and her lips tugged slightly into a frown, “I bet there are some people who would want to reconnect.”

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head, “Not with how I left things.”

“Y/n––”

“If I wanted to know who you were hanging out with while I was gone,” You said with a bit of edge to your tone, because you knew while she mentioned how there were multiple people who wanted to reconnect…You knew she was specifically talking about one person, “I would’ve asked.”

Tara was silent as she confidently held your stare. It was as if she was trying to convince you that he would want to reconnect.

But there was a reason you kept your visits to Canada so short.

You knew Tara still talked to him––You knew she was still friends with him. How could she not? He was intertwined with your high school friend group. And you weren’t mad at her for still keeping contact with him, you didn’t have a right to tell her who she could and couldn’t be friends with…But you were fairly certain he never wanted to speak to you again.

You were the first to break eye contact and look down at the ground before looking over her shoulder to see a small stand for hot chocolate, “I’m getting a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”

Tara shook her head with a small smile, “I’m all good. Think I’m going to take a peak in this store.”

Without another word, you nodded and swiftly walked past her and toward the stand. There was another gust of wind that blew into your face. It was a kind of cold that fogs up windshield glass, when you passed a group of people who looked to be around your age.

You wiggled your nose from the cold air and didn’t pay any mind to them.

The line was longer than you thought, but you would wait in the cold if it meant avoiding Tara’s innuendos of meeting up with a certain someone. You bounced your leg to keep your blood circulating, but when you heard a little kid yell about someone cutting in line, you stopped and leaned your upper body to the side.

Everyone always got a little temperamental when they were freezing, especially little kids. But the parent hushed the child and everyone in line went back to minding their own business.

You dug around your pocket for some cash when you noticed you were a few people away from the front of the line. When it was your turn, you held out a few dollars for the cheap hot chocolate. But the cashier, whose elf hat jingled when they shook their head no, just handed you the white styrofoam cup.

“Someone covered your drink.”

You knitted your eyebrows together, “What?”

He kept his unamused facial expression as he nodded somewhere behind your shoulder, “He cut in line and said he had to pay for your drink.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you felt your hands defrost from under your mittens as you nodded slowly, “Thanks…”

The cashier barely lifted their lips up in a smile at your response and was soon helping the couple behind you.

You took a single sip of the hot chocolate, letting out a content sigh as it warmed up your insides, when you turned around to thank the person who paid for your drink.

But when you turned around on your heel and saw the person who paid for your drink already staring at you…Your face fell. The hot chocolate you held in your hands no longer provided warmth. And you wanted to run all the way back to California.

It felt as if the cold air had frozen your feet to the pavement.

Last minute shoppers hastily walked around you, sometimes with their bags of presents clashing against your side, but they didn’t offer you an apology like you didn’t offer one for standing in their way. You assumed your face was just as blank as his.

The last time you saw him was a few days before you left for Los Angeles about three and a half years ago.

As if it was any more possible, he was taller and seemed more muscular. And while his hair was tucked under a beanie, you could tell that it had grown a little longer. No matter what season it was, his cheeks still held their rosy color, and even though he looked at you with a hint of indifference…His brown eyes were still as comforting as ever.

Noticing that you weren’t going to move, you saw his breath through the cold air as he let out a deep sigh. And with his own white styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate, he walked toward you.

Your heart gradually fell further and further in your chest with each step he took. And when he was standing in front of you, it felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

Both of you stood still, and while he kept his stare on your eyes, you couldn't help but wildly look around the little Christmas village. The hum of Christmas music and families chattering as they walked to their destination was drowned out by the ringing in your ears until he spoke.

“Long time no see.”

His tone of voice was as emotionless as his face.

“Hi––Hey.” You breathed out and held up the styrofoam cup, “Um…Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

He nodded and took a sip of his own drink, “No problem.”

This was not how you expected seeing Shawn again for the first time since the two of you broke up. In fact, you never really planned on seeing him again since that disaster. Just standing in front of him in absolute silence was only causing your chest to tighten with anxiety.

“I––Uh,” you didn’t know what to say. He was looking at you like he expected you to say something profound; or some sort of apology. You avoided his stare as you took a sip of your hot chocolate and coughed into the crook of your elbow, “I can pay you back.”

Shawn didn’t miss a beat, “That’d defeat the whole purpose.”

“Purpose of what?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To talk to you.”

His responses were instantaneous; it felt as if he planned out this whole conversation in his head prior to buying your hot chocolate.

You let out a shaky breath, “Well…We’re talking.” Shawn closed his eyes in irritation and this was exactly why you didn’t plan on seeing him when you were back home. “Do you have venmo? We could call it even––”

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your eyes shot wide open at his question. Busy tonight? Of course you weren’t; your only plans were to watch cringe worthy Christmas movies on Netflix curled up on the couch. Maybe have a bit of eggnog and wishing you were back in California.

Shawn Mendes was nowhere in your holiday plans, and even though spending one-on-one time with him terrified you…You felt yourself rearranging all of your plans to fit him in exactly like you had done when you were seventeen.

You gulped, “What…What do you have in mind?”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you immediately felt yourself smile as well, “Just to talk.” You nodded your head until he offered up more information. He sniffled his nose, “I have my own place in Toronto now––”

“So why are you in Pickering?”

Whether he was bothered that you cut him off or not, he didn’t show it. He just took a sip of his hot chocolate as another cold breeze came through. He brought his index finger and thumb up to run the corners of his eyes before answering, “Christmas shopping with my friends.”

My friends.

The offhanded way he said it made it seem as if he didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

You peaked behind his shoulder and saw that the group of people you passed on your way to get hot chocolate was in fact a small group of people you went to high school went. You caught the eye of Brian, one of Shawn’s best friends that wormed his way into your life when you started dating, and offered him a small smile. He didn’t return it.

You nodded your head, understanding that Brian definitely still held ill feelings toward you. Instead of focusing on the negative, you brought your attention back to Shawn, who was surprising you with how…nice he was being.

“I don’t have any plans.”

As if he expected you to blow him off, his eyes widened in shock the same moment his mouth dropped. You let out a small laugh, thinking how you probably looked the same way when he asked if you had any plans.

Shawn cleared his throat, “Nice––I––Like I said, I have my own place in Toronto now.” He shifted his gaze toward the black pavement and let out a nervous breath before he asked his next question, “Do you still have the same number?”

Your voice cracked, “Yeah.”

Slowly, he picked his eyes from off the ground. He looked relieved that you hadn’t changed your number, but you felt hurt deep within your chest thinking that he didn’t have much faith in you. The 905 area code you’ve had since you got your first cell phone was one of the few things that still tied you to your tiny Canadian town.

“I’ll text you my address,” Shawn offered you a tight lipped smile before you both heard his name being called out by a girl. He briefly looked over his shoulder and then turned back to you, smiling, “Tonight.”

You quickly nodded, and didn’t stop nodding until he was slowly backing away from you, “Tonight.” You confirmed the plans back to him.

And this time when he smiled, he showed all his teeth, and it was a smile you recognized. One that traveled all the way up to his squinted eyes that made the corners crinkle. It was the smile you fell in love with at fifteen.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate before he turned his back to you and you saw how he was greeted back into his group of friends. He walked right up next to the girl who called out his name and threw his head back in laughter at something the group said.

You could name almost everyone in that circle; and there was an ache in your chest when you saw Tara make her way out from the laughing friend group and bounce up to you. Of course her life didn’t stop on your account, but you felt a bit crestfallen thinking how that could be you; laughing and smiling with high school friends––pressed up to Shawn’s side––if you didn’t flee away at the first chance you got.

Tara’s cheeks were bright red, but not the type of red from the cold air, they were red from smiling too hard with people she loved. She tried to keep her small laughs at bay, “Ready to continue shopping?”

You blamed the stinging behind your eyes on the cold air that continued to whip through the streets, “Let’s go.”

///

It was nearly ten at night when you parked your mom’s car in the parking garage of Shawn’s apartment complex. The sound of your door closing shut echoed through the nearly empty guest parking spots. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out to tell Shawn that you arrived at his place. He immediately responded saying he would meet you at the front door.

You shoved your phone into your jacket pocket as you crossed your arms over your chest, hunching your shoulders ever so slightly, hoping it would preserve some body heat. With chattering teeth, you made your way outside the garage and waited outside the front door.

Standing still wasn’t doing you any good in keeping warm, so you decided to walk in a small circle.

And with pacing came overthinking.

What did Shawn want to talk about that couldn’t be said when you saw him at the Holiday shops? You didn’t think that there was anything left to say with how you ended things. When he texted you his address for tonight, it was the first message exchanged between the two of you since the last text he sent you in 2016. And that text made it quite clear about how he felt about you.

Please never speak to me again.

“Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and saw Shawn dressed in gray sweatpants and a soft pink sweatshirt. A sweatshirt you stole from his closet countless times when you were a couple. And while he looked absolutely adorable with his hair tousled, as if he’d just woken up from a nap, the heat from inside the building was the main factor that lured you inside.

“Thank God,” You brushed past him and immediately began to regain feeling in your toes.

Shawn let out a laugh, “Cold?”

You sniffled, “Uh––Yeah. Very cold.”

He shook his head with a small smile, “Well, lucky for you, I have the heat on in my place.”

And you took that as your que to follow him to the elevator. The short walk from the front door to the elevator was silent as Shawn pressed the up button. He rocked back and forth on his heel, something you knew he did when he was nervous.

But why would he be nervous? He obviously knew what he wanted to talk about. You on the other hand…How does a person go from never wanting to speak to someone again to inviting them to their apartment?

The soft ding of the elevator made you jump.

Shawn let out a single chuckle and let you onto the elevator first. You crossed your arms over your chest as Shawn pressed his floor number.

The ride up was also spent in silence.

It wasn’t until the doors slowly opened onto Shawn’s floor that panic began to infiltrate every corner of your mind.

“Do you have roommates?” Your voice came out more high pitched than you intended.

The last thing you needed to deal with was Brian––or some other old high school friend––coldly stare you down as you walked through the door.

Shawn shook his head as he took his keys from out of his pocket and twirled them around his index finger, “I have a studio.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out.

As if he could sense how nervous you were at his answer, he slightly turned his head to look at you; eyebrows raised and a smirk placed on his lips.

The rest of the walk was in silence until Shawn stopped in front of a dark teal door that looked identical to the rest on the floor. The first time he tried to unlock the door, he accidentally put his mailbox key in the lock. He nervously chuckled as he fiddled with his key ring for the correct key. And once he found it with shaky hands, the door clicked and he walked through first.

The walls were an offwhite color, and his furniture was either all navy or black, making the single room more cozy than it probably was intended to be. His bed was pressed up on the far back wall in a corner next to a window. From what you could make out, you saw a few scattered pictures tacked up on the wall next to his bed. Most of them looked like they were from college; but you saw a few high school graduation pictures, prom pictures, and comical spirit day photos.

Even though you and Shawn were connected at the hip during those prominent high school memories…You didn’t see yourself in any of the pictures.

“It’s nothing special,” he shrugged and walked over to his little kitchen area, “Do you want water?”

His question brought you out of the pity party you were throwing for yourself in your head, “That’d be great.”

Shawn opened up one of his cabinets and reached for two glasses. Slowly, you walked up to the little counter and sat on one of the barstools he had. He slid a glass of water over the counter and you smiled in appreciation.

You tapped your fingers around the cold glass, “So…How’ve you––How’s your family?”

You cut yourself short from asking your first question…Unfortunatley, you had a pretty good idea of how he’s been the past few years. So instead, you stayed in neutral territory.

“They’re good,” Shawn took a sip of his water as he leaned his back on the fridge, “How’s your family?”

Like him, you kept your answer short, “They’re fine.”

The pleasantries were weird. You don’t know if you preferred his silence or the awkward short phrases the two of you exchanged. You used to be so entwined with his family, and he with yours, that just hearing that they were “good” made it seem like they were an off limits topic.

Silence.

You took a sip of water.

The water felt extra cold against your dry throat. You set your glass on the counter and folded your hands together, “Still studying architecture?”

At your attempt of trying to continue the small talk, Shawn pushed himself off the fridge and sat on the barstool next to you. Even though you’d spent three and a half years apart, you spent four years together, and he still knew you better than you’d care to admit.

And that meant he knew the exact way to teeter the line of making you slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to send you running away.

Small talk was something you disliked. Silence was something you hated. Feeling unprepared in a situation was something you loathed. And you despised being so close to someone without knowing what to say.

He knew all of that.

Not liking how out of control you felt in the situation you scooted the chair back, “I think I should go––”

You were only able to get off the chair and stand straight up before Shawn’s hand shot out and took hold of your wrist, keeping you in front of him.

His touch burned; it felt hotter than any summer day you spent in L.A., but the familiarity that came with his calloused fingers––from spending hours on end practicing guitar––felt like home.

You stood frozen with his hand keeping you from still. With closed eyes, you took a deep breath in, “Shawn…” then slowly let it out, “Why did ask me to come over.”

He stayed silent, but the way he slowly let go of your wrist, and trailed his fingertips over the top of your hand right down to your fingertips before he glided his fingertips up to your elbow…It caused all sorts of bells and sirens to go off in your head.

After a few more beats of silence, where Shawn just trailed his fingers up to your elbow and back down to your wrist, he slipped his hand into yours and laced your fingers together. You closed your eyes as he tugged you forward so you were now standing in between his legs.

“This isn’t smart,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

He squeezed your hand once, but you kept your eyes shut and held your breath.

Only when you were drunk off champagne in L.A., droning on and on about your problems––most of them circling back to Shawn––did you let yourself imagine what it would be like to hold his hand again. To be in this position again. One that you found yourself in plenty of times in high school.

“Y/n…” His voice softly carried your name through the silent studio apartment.

He squeezed your hand again.

You knew that once you opened your eyes that you would give in to anything he wanted. There was only a miniscule part of the rational side of your mind holding out. But when he bumped his knee against the side of your thigh, that last part of you that was holding out was consumed by the ever growing desire of wanting the person in front of you.

You snapped your eyes open and were immediately drawn into the sincerity he held in his eyes, “I miss you.”

I miss you too, you wanted to say. But you kept that admittance to yourself.

You gulped, “This––We shouldn’t––” you briefly looked down at your intertwined hands, a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, before looking back into his wistful eyes that caused your stomach to twist in knots, “This is a bad idea––”

He tugged you even closer to him where you were almost pressed up against his chest. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the soft fabric of the sweatshirt. You hoped your hand would add some kind of distance, but at your touch, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as if he’d been waiting years for this moment.

And maybe he had.

“Babe––”

“Just for the weekend,” you fell into his plea, but cut him off in a strained voice.

There was a time in the past where you thought you would be in this same exact position with Shawn; standing between his legs, holding hands, in an apartment somewhere in Toronto…He squeezed your hand again and you felt a sharp pain in the center of your chest.

This was almost like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination, but there was one piece missing.

You lifted your palm from off his chest and twiddled with the strings of his hoodie. You tried your best to ignore the ache in your chest. And you tried your absolute hardest to not concentrate on that missing piece. You bit the inside of your cheek, and blinked away the burn behind your eyes.

The missing piece––that would make this scenario exactly like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination––would be if you two were still in love.

But love wasn’t what this situation was about.

“Tis the damn season,” Shawn murmured, and In one swift motion, he used his free hand to cup one of your cheeks before crashing his lips onto yours.

The heat you felt when he had only touched you didn’t hold a fame to how it felt to kiss him again. It felt as if no time had passed, his lips molding right on to yours. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, his thumb slowly caressing your cheek. Keeping his lips connected to yours, he stood up from the stool.

Slightly hunched over, Shawn deepened the kiss as he slowly walked you backward until you felt your back softly come in contact with the wall. With his one hand still holding onto the back of your neck to keep you close, his other hand slowly crept under your sweater.

You shivered under his touch and you felt him smirk against your lips.

“Where’ve you been staying?” Shawn mumbled into your neck as he nipped at the skin there.

You let out a few deep breaths through your nose, you were finding it a bit impossible to think clearly seeing as your train of thought was only focused on Shawn, “I––” you were cut off by his lips reattaching themselves onto yours.

“I’m staying at––at my parents’ house,” you were able to get out through his rushed kisses.

Shawn hummed as he ground his hips into yours, causing you to whimper in his mouth as you threaded your fingers through his curly hair.

He repeated his movements a few more times as his hand that was cupping your cheek made its way down to your hips. And he let the hand that was under your sweater, trail painstakingly slow down your stomach, until he had both hands holding onto your hips.

He slowed down his kisses, until they were just a few pecks, before he stopped all together and leaned his forehead against yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that his eyes were still closed as well.

He brushed his nose against yours, “And where did you tell them you were going tonight?” You felt his breath fan over your voice.

You breathed in, “Tara’s.”

He pressed a single kiss to your lips, one that was reminiscent of your first kiss underneath the bleachers when you were fourteen, “Does she know you’re here?”

And when you breathed out, you felt your chest touch Shawn’s, “No.”

Shawn hummed in acknowledgement, but you couldn’t tell if he was relieved or sad that you kept your late night rendezvous with him a secret. But before you could ask him if anyone knew you were coming over, you felt one of his hands slide into yours once again and pull you over toward his bed.

For the rest of the night…Every touch, every kiss, every soft spoken word with eyes closed––because with your eyes closed, at least you could pretend that you two were in love––brought you to a higher sensation that you chased all over L.A. to find.

And while Shawn was fast asleep, you laid awake with your head on his bare chest, rising and falling with every one of his even breaths. As you were tangled up in Shawn’s sheets naked, with one of his arms thrown around your shoulder, you realized that the feeling you craved would always lead you back to Shawn and your hometown.

///

Promising Shawn that you would only be together for the weekend was a bold face lie that you should’ve seen coming. That first weekend spent at Shawn’s place led to another weekend. Then the weekends bled into the weekday. And you found yourself sneaking out of your parents house more to meet up with Shawn now than you ever did in high school.

Christmas had come and gone and Shawn was busy around the clock with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. He did send you a few texts throughout the day to let you know he was thinking of you, but it wasn’t the same as actually hearing him whisper the same words to you right before you drifted off to sleep next to him.

It was Boxing Day, and with Boxing Day came a tradition for graduates at your high school that you never participated in. You thought it was a bit foolish, high school graduates meeting up in the woods behind the school–that they swore they hated for four years–as they drank and reminisced about the four best years of their lives.

You never participated since you were usually back in California by this time, booking the first flight out of Canada after Christmas. Or it was like your first year at University…Not even bothering to come back to Canada.

You texted Shawn that you parked your car between the Methodist church and the school that used to be yours. As a response, he sent back the emoji with one eye closed with its tongue out. He was the one that convinced you to come out tonight…After he promised that not everyone was still bitter about how you dropped them after you moved to L.A.

Taking the lock and chain off from around the gate, that was never securely locked around the Holiday season, it was easy to sneak in. And you wondered if this was the school’s secret way of encouraging their graduates to come together.

Trudging through the frozen grass, you were still freezing even though you had multiple layers on to keep your body temperature up.

You felt like you were wandering forever, and if it wasn’t for Instagram pictures you’ve seen in past years, you would’ve thought that Shawn was pulling a prank on you. But the further you walked into the woods, you started hearing a few shouts of friends greeting each other with Happy Holidays. And when you got closer, you saw string lights zigzagged from tree to tree.

There were people you recognized and others you didn’t recognize either gathered around keg stands, sitting on tree stumps, or in a small circle of fold up chairs that they provided themselves.

You felt a bit lost, and you took out your phone to text Shawn, but Tara bounced up to you with a red solo cup in each hand.

“I kneeew you’d come,” she drew out the lone vowel in ‘knew’ as you took one of the red solo cups from her and rested a steady hand on her shoulder, “No one belieeeved me that you’d show.”

Tara wasn’t drunk, but you knew that when her speech pattern wavered that she was a little more than tipsy.

“I told you I would be here,” you took a sip of the beer in the cup, “So, here I am.”

Tara raised an eyebrow at you, “But you’re late.”

“I never promised a specific time,” you narrowed your eyes at her as you brought the red cup up for another drink.

If this conversation was going where you thought it was, you would need more than just a few sips to get through it.

“Stop playing dumb,” Tara rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft.

You hadn’t told her that most of your break had been preoccupied by Shawn. He was one of the major reasons why you hated returning home, so it was a bit ironic that you now looked around for him with anticipation clawing up your stomach.

You continued to play dumb, “I don’t––”

Tara let out a huff, “I know––We all know––That you and Shawn have been attached at the hip.”

The background noise of old high school friends laughing was the exact opposite of how you felt with your best friend. You hadn’t told anyone that you were spending time with Shawn. And you were pretty positive he hadn’t told anyone either.

“That’s not true.”

Were you attached at the hip with Shawn since you returned to Canada? No, that wasn’t true. But did you spend a considerable amount of time together? Possibly.

“He’s been more…Smiley, the past few weeks,” Tara gave you a pointed look, “And so have you.”

While you felt not much disdain for your hometown anymore, and felt a bit lighter on your feet…You knew that part of that feeling was thanks to Shawn. And while you never thought of returning back to Pickering when you were done university, you slowly started to come to a realization that coming home wouldn’t be that terrible.

You took a sip of beer to cover up your smile, “Good for him that he seems happy––”

“Don’t you remember how things ended between you two?”

With her comment, you took a few more longer sips of your drink. Once you felt confident that you wouldn’t lash out at her, you brought the empty cup down to your side and clutched the plastic cup down at your side.

“I think I remember quite well,” you grumbled with a clenched jaw.

You glared over her shoulder at a happy looking couple

There were a few beats of awkward silence before Tara let out a soft sigh. She looked at you with her big adoring eyes that were supposed to be comforting, but you saw a hint of protectiveness in her eyes. A protectiveness that wasn’t for you.

“I’m just looking out for you––”

“No,” you tore your longing gaze away from the smiling couple as you looked at your best friend with hurt in your eyes, “You’re looking for Shawn.”

The silence was enough of an answer for you.

You nodded your head once and swallowed down the lump in your throat, not even your own best friend had your back, “I think I’m going to leave.”

You were about to spin on your heel when Tara’s voice stopped you in your tracks, “I’m looking out for both of you.” You let out another breath, not wanting to get in an argument with her, but she spoke up once more, “Like it or not, you were the one who left.”

You wiped away a tear from your cheek that managed to escape your eye, “I know I left,” you whispered, “But you also knew how torn up I was after we broke up.” You felt your throat tighten up more as you spotted your old friend group over Tara’s shoulder that you lost contact with after you left, “They don’t know that. They only know how he was.”

Tara reached out for your hand, but you took a step back, “Y/n, it’s not like that––”

“It’s cool you’re friends with Shawn and still friends with everyone else,” you gnawed on your bottom lip, as an unfamiliar feeling creeped up your stomach when you looked behind Tara’s shoulder once more at your old friends; guilt.

You thought you were going to say something else, but the longer you stood in front of your best friend, the more guilt you felt rise up like bile in the pit of your stomach. So without another word, you turned around and started to walk away from the smell of bad perfume lingering in the air.

The grass crunched loudly under your shoes, but not loud enough to block out a certain voice that would visit you in your most blissful daydreams, but also haunt your darkest nightmares.

“Long time no see.”

Letting out a deep breath, you put on a brave face as you spun around to see Shawn.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he walked to you, only stopping when the tips of his shoes touched yours, “It’s been three hours.”

Shawn rolled his eyes back at you as he took one of his hands out of his pockets and slid his fingers easily between yours. It was too perfect the way your hands fit together. Too perfect how he still knew your body like anyone else. And too perfect how he seemingly just forgot about how you left.

While you were heartbroken over your break up with Shawn, you couldn’t say that Tara was wrong when she said that you were the one who decided to leave.

Shawn’s curls tickled your forehead as he ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “I’ll always miss you.”

You didn’t miss the subtle undertone of devastation in his voice.

You looked away from him as you tried to swallow down the pain you felt. From the start of whatever this arrangement was with Shawn, you knew that it wouldn’t end well. It was a recipe for total destruction, and It’s why you only wanted it to last a weekend.

But with the few weeks you’d spent with him, you were starting to see how you could possibly make this work past the weekend. It would be tricky with you heading back to L.A. at the end of the month, but you thought it would be worth it to try something new.

“Shawn…”

Just like how you noticed the devastation in his voice, he picked up on the slight ache behind your voice. He knew that tone of voice all too well because it was eerily similar to the tone you used on him before you told him you were leaving.

And even though you did eventually have to leave, you weren’t trying to say that you were leaving him.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh that broke your heart, “Stop running.”

You shook your head, “I’m not––”

“You are,” his voice was heavy, and when he opened his eyes you felt your shoulders fall at how his brown eyes were full of fear, “You can run, but only so far. And it’s been so long,” he squeezed your hand and didn’t ease up on the pressure, “Aren’t you tired?”

You tilted your head back and let out an aggravated breath through your nose, but you still held tightly onto his hand.

“I’m not––We’re both in this situation,” you blinked away the stinging behind your eyes and slightly skewed the conversation, “I think we should––”

With a tilt of his head, he pinched his eyebrows together, “Are you––” his voice cracked, “–-Are you really making me watch you leave again?”

With a frown, you shook your head, “That’s not what I’m saying. This situation isn’t the best, but if we change––”

“Because I remember that damn well,” he flared his nostrils as his breaths came out uneven, ignoring the idea you were trying to propose. You were caught off guard by his sharp comment, and didn’t have a rebuttal, but he seemed to take your silence as an answer. And when you felt him drop your hand, that’s when the panic really started to flood your body.

Shawn let out a bitter laugh as he looked down at the frozen grass, shaking his head as if trying to rid you out from all of his memories. But when he looked back up at you, his lips were pulled into a tight frown and you could see his bloodshot eyes from the haze of the dim Christmas lights.

You took a step forward, reaching your hand out to feel him one more time, but he took a step back, “Do you not remember telling me––and everyone else––how you were going to McGill?”

He waited for a response, but you didn’t have one, so he kept on with his scathing questions, “Do you not remember us making weekend plans to see each other? We were going to make it work between Montreal and Toronto. ”

You felt your chin wobble because you knew exactly where he was going with this. And all of his anger and heartbreak toward you was justified.

“Shawn––”

“Do you not remember,” his harsh voice dropped down into a gut-wrenching whisper, “Telling me two days before the semester was starting that you were leaving for L.A.?”

The feeling of holding back your tears became too much. A few leaked out from your eyes as you hiccupped, “You don’t have to–”

“Do you not remember,” He spoke over you, “how much planning you put into moving out there?” Shawn let out a shaky breath as he harshly wiped a few tears off his cheek with the heel of his palm, “Because if I remember correctly, your mom said you were planning that for months.”

More silence on your end.

“If leaving––” He brought the sleeve of his arm to wipe under his nose, “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even.”

You swallowed thickly as a gust of cold air blew in between you two, “Call what even?”

“I watched you leave,” Shawn itched the bridge of his nose, not looking directly into your eyes, “You can watch me leave.”

You were beginning to feel the oncoming of a headache; which wasn’t surprising considering how hard you were clenching your teeth and how you were trying your best to hold back your sobs.

While you didn’t think whatever mess you got yourself in with Shawn over the break was healthy, you did think that there was a way to sort it out to make it better. With only one semester left, you had to go back to L.A. to finish your degree, it was the only thing that made sense. But you were starting to think that maybe you could try long distance with him. And you were hoping that maybe––up until this point––that he would also want to try it out.

But maybe wasn’t enough.

You let your shoulders drop, because as much as you didn’t want to let go, he seemed pretty set on making you feel the same exact blindsided pain you caused him years ago.

You let out a pathetic laugh as you curled one arm around your waist, “Tis the damn season, right?” You barely got the sentence out before you brought your other hand up to your mouth to muffle your cries.

His eyes were wide with pain, much like the day you left him on his back porch after you told him you were attending a different University than planned. He fiddled with his hands, almost like he wanted to reach out and hold you one last time, but he shook his head––as if he decided you weren’t worth anymore words––and walked away.

You watched him walk in the direction you had just left from until he disappeared beyond the trees. Once he was gone, and you were certain he wasn’t going to turn around, you let your shoulders drop and buried your face in both of your hands.

Your breaths came out shaky as your shoulders shook with your cries. Shawn was gone. He left you exactly how you left him; standing alone, crying, wanting more of an explanation–-wanting to still make things work––and not being able to do anything while watching the one person you ever loved walk away.

At least when you left, you looked back at him one last time. You vividly remember how his face crumpled and then how he brought a hand up to cover his face as he openly sobbed. You could still feel how your chest tore open at the sound of his wailing that day.

But he didn’t look back at you when he left.

You stood alone in the woods, unable to catch your breath between your hyperventilation and cries, as you felt scratches on the back of your throat from harshly breathing in the cold air. You cried for a little longer, rocking back and forth as you clutched your stomach, until you felt ready to leave your high school.

You shivered from the cold, but at this point, you would welcome any other feeling than the devastating heartbreak you felt in your chest as you walked out of the woods. With one last look at the highschool that brought you to the absolute best person you’ve ever found in your life, you headed down a road you hadn’t taken in months.

Taking the road you used to walk from your parents house to high school looked real good…It looked fine until all you saw on the street were memories that danced their way around in the haziness of the night. Time flies and the memories blended together through your blurry vision.

You approached the stop sign, which had an infamous ditch, that caused almost every car to get stuck in if they didn’t take the right turn wide enough. You let out a small laugh as your mind drew up a version of a fifteen year old Shawn and yourself in his white truck. He was so proud to finally have a vehicle of his own––even if it was his grandfather’s old truck––to take you out on dates.

And one day when Shawn was driving you home from school, he was too caught up in recounting a story about how he and Brian nearly got caught ditching third period, that he got stuck in the ditch. How you got out of the ditch wasn’t clear––but you remember Shawn standing behind his truck, pushing it, as you were in the front seat pressing on the gas pedal.

And when the two of you were able to get his truck out of the ditch, his back tires spurted up an insane amount of mud. It caused his freshly washed white truck and white shirt to look just as messy as the mud on his truck tires.

Your laughs soon turned into more tears as you crossed the seat and leaned your forehead on the metal post of the stop sign. You didn’t regret going to California, you knew you wanted to get out of Pickering, but being home for an extended amount of time showed you how you wished you’d gone about leaving a different way.

Going back to your old high school showed you how much you missed your old life. You missed the nights when you stayed up all night with your friends, waiting to watch the sunrise, and then going to a diner for breakfast. You missed the times you would lie on Shawn’s floor doing homework, while he studied at his desk. You missed the way your friends would tease you and Shawn when they saw you holding hands.

But most of all, you missed seeing Shawn’s smile.

Bright headlights from your peripheral vision caused you to pick your head up from the rusty metal post. You sniffled and decided that it would be best to continue walking so the car wouldn’t see your mini breakdown.

You continued to walk straight, but the car didn’t speed up and go around you like you expected. Instead, you heard the sound of a window rolling down as the person who you were just thinking about called out your name.

You should’ve given Shawn your full attention, but you don’t think you could watch him leave again. So you shook your head and continued to walk forward.

“Y/n,” Shawn called out your name again, “Get in the truck. It’s cold out, it’s late, you’re upset, and Tara said you had a drink.”

You shook your head no as you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffled away the last of your tears, and continued walking.

But what did cause you to stop walking was the sound of the engine shutting off and the slam of a door.

And like when you first saw him at the little Christmas village all those weeks ago, the two of you stood face-to-face in silence. It seemed as if his tongue was tied and he didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what you wanted him to say. He made his intentions with you clear at the edge of the woods.

“I’ve only had one drink,” you looked away from his eyes that were full of remorse, and it only made the ache in you feel worse, “I’m fine walking home.”

You brushed past his shoulders, but he shot his hand out and clasped his hand around yours. You held your breath as he spoke, “Hear me out––”

“I heard you in the woods,” you choked out.

He squeezed your hand tight and the action caused you to rapidly blink away the tears you were so certain were gone. He was all you wanted, the past weeks showed you that, but the back and forth––the crushing of both of your feelings––wasn’t something that was healthy or sustainable for a relationship.

You dropped his hand for a second, but his hand reached right back up to yours, holding onto it in panic, “We––We could just ride around,” he let out a low somber chuckle, “Just like the old days.”

Even though your back was still facing him, you bit your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut. Just like the old days. You didn’t think words that sounded so innocent could be so painful.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

At your denial, Shawn held your hand tighter, and you felt him take a step closer to you, “I just-–I want to spend time with you.” You heard him let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t––What I said back there––I know you’re going to leave again. I thought it would make me feel better to say those things––But it didn’t. And I––” his voice cracked, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You tried your hardest to resist the urge of leaning into the warmth of his chest. But when you heard the crack in his voice, you didn’t care about all the alarms going off in your head about how this was a bad idea.

You turned around to face him and saw stress lines on his forehead as his eyes looked red. He had his lips firmly clamped together, as if he was also trying to hold back in his tears.

With a deep breath, you tried to smile, “Shawn––”

He shook his head. He didn’t know what you were going to say, but with past experience of you starting a sentence off with his name, it was like he didn’t want to take any risks.

“I––No one is at my parents’ house. We could––We could just go there, watch a movie––Or do absolutely nothing,” he took a deep breath and leaned his head against yours, “I just need to spend more time with you before you go.”

You gulped, “Okay.”

The relieved sigh Shawn let out fanned over your face as a small smile lit up his face. If this was any other moment you previously shared with him, you would expect him to press a light kiss to your lips, but he just nodded against your forehead.

With your hand still in his, he guided you to his truck––the same one he got stuck in the ditch with––and you were proud of yourself for not crying at the sight of it. The way he opened the door, and placed a hand on the small of your back––to make sure you didn’t fall backwards as you stepped up into the truck––was reminiscent of all the times he picked you up on dates.

When you were buckled into your seat, you turned your head to look out the window to wipe away a few tears with the heel of your palm.

Shawn started his truck back up and the whole way back to his parents’ house was spent in silence.

He turned in his driveway, and put his car in park as the two of you sat in silence. His hands were still placed on the steering wheel and your hands were curled in fists, no doubt your fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes on the inside of your palms. You knew that the two of you were thinking the same thing…The last time you were both at his parents’ house.

The last time you were both at his parents’ house was when you told him you were leaving––Leaving for L.A. and leaving him.

He switched off the ignition and turned to face you, “Are you…Do you want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said as you swallowed down the lump in your throat.

Shawn nodded too, and the two of you unbuckled your seatbelts, as you opened the door. You carefully took a step down, but ultimately stumbled out of the passenger seat.

Once you regained balance, you saw Shawn standing a few feet in front of you with an amused smirk, “Even after years…You still have trouble getting out of it.”

Even though his tone was lighthearted, you saw the painful look in his eyes as memories of you struggling to get out of his truck flashed before his eyes.

You rolled your eyes as you shut the door, “It’s steep.”

Shawn let out a boisterous laugh as he led you through the front door and an overwhelming sensation washed over you. Seeing Shawn’s apartment was odd, but it was his own space that you hadn’t seen before.

But his home…You spent countless Sunday night dinners in the dining room with his family, helped his mom throw a surprise seventeenth birthday party for Shawn in the kitchen, fell asleep on Shawn’s shoulder in the living room during a movie, and snuck into his basement countless times on a school night.

You knew this place.

“We can uh––” Shawn brought a hand up to the back of his neck, “Go to the basement? We got it redone last year so it’s nice––And um––Do you want a sweatshirt? A blanket? Something other than your jacket?”

Even though Shawn was in his house it seemed as if he didn’t know how to act either.

You smiled, “A sweatshirt would be nice.”

He nodded, “Cool. I’ll go grab it and you can––You can wait in the basement if you want.” Before you could respond, he turned around and ran up the steps to his room to fetch you a sweatshirt.

Instead of wallowing in your memories right by the staircase, you headed for the basement. Your feet had a memory of their own as they carried you straight back through the hallway, past the kitchen, and made a left. You walked a further bit down that hallway until you were met with the white door that led to the basement.

With a deep breath, you twisted the handle and walked down the stairs.

The basement was redone, but not overly done. There was a fresh set of paint, new hardwood floor, and new furniture scattered about. You weren’t alone for very long before you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Shawn had changed out his jeans for sweatpants and a hoodie, “Here you go,” he handed you a sweatshirt of his.

You took it from him and inspected it as you slipped off your winter jacket. It was his varsity hockey sweatshirt from junior year of high school. The gray sweatshirt had your high school’s logo printed big on the front, the top of the sleeve had a bold C for captain, and the back had MENDES 16.

It was one of his sweatshirts that exclusively lived in your closet since you wore it to his games so often.

You gulped as you slipped it over your head. Once the sweatshirt was on, you saw Shawn sitting on the futon with his eyebrows pulled together. He was either thinking about all the times you wore it previously or he was regretting offering it to you.

You stuffed your hands in the front pockets of the sweatshirt and stood there until Shawn patted the spot next to him, “Come here.”

Shuffling your feet, you made your way across the hardwood floor and slipped your shoes off before joining Shawn on the futon. You crossed your right leg over your left thigh and started to nervously pick at the loose skin by your thumb.

You didn’t know what he was going to do…Was he going to turn on the T.V.? Did he want to talk? You thought that the two of you talked more than you needed to in the past few hours.

Shawn’s eyes glanced down at your nervous hands and in one swift motion, he shifted his sitting position so that he was facing you, and took both of your hands in his.

He was staring intently at you, and you wanted to do anything to lessen the tension. His hands felt warm around yours as you looked at the wall that the futon was pressed up against. You let out a small laugh when you saw the tiny holes that the new paint wasn’t able to hide.

“Not able to get rid of the holes from darts?”

Shawn was confused for a moment, until he followed your gaze to see the tiny holes for himself, and let out a chuckle, “My parents painted the basement last year and they just noticed the holes…” He shook his head, “I tried telling them that it was Brian and Aaron, but they were still mad at me.”

You smiled softly at the memory, “They were wasted that night.”

Shawn mirrored your smile, “Yeah it was six years ago, but they were still mad.”

You squinted an eye and offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I encouraged them that night.”

Shawn shook his head, telling you not to worry about it, “We were all having a good time.”

Silence.

You let out a deep breath and broke eye contact with him again. You felt nervous as ever under his gaze and felt hot as you wore his sweatshirt.

“How’re you liking California?”

You snapped your head over to him, eyes bulging out of your head, because him bringing up the place you left him for was definitely not something you would’ve thought he’d bring up.

“I um––It’s warmer,” you weakly smiled and Shawn’s chest softly shook with laughter. He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, wanting you to expand on your explanation, “It’s nice.” You let out a sigh and looked into your lap.

Shawn squeezed your hands which caused you to look up at him, “Even though we…We didn’t leave off on the best of terms,” he licked his lips in nervousness, “I still care about you. And I’m curious to know.”

You nodded your head in understanding. Saying that you didn’t leave things off on the best of terms was an understatement––It was Shawn trying not to hurt your feelings––But you knew exactly how you left things. And it was absolutely terrible.

You let out a sigh as a genuine smile lit up your face as you remembered landing in LAX for the first time, “It was really really nice,” you peaked a look up at Shawn to see that he also had a genuine smile on his face. “At the time, it was exactly what I needed. I just…I don’t know what it was about Canada but I just needed something new and––” you felt yourself get choked up because here you are, sitting in front of the boy who promised you the world for years, saying how much you wanted to leave.

Shawn squeezed your hands in reassurance, “It’s––I get it.”

You let one of his hands drop as you brought it up to wipe away the tears, “Sorry I––I don’t want to cry, sorry.”

“Really, it’s alright,” Shawn squeezed your hands once more, “When things got…” he tilted his head side to side, trying to find a word, “better, Tara would tell me about how happy you were out there.” He smiled sadly, “I was happy that you were happy.”

You wiped away more tears and let out a pathetic laugh, “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Shawn leaned forward to wipe away some of your tears. And when you opened your eyes, you saw how close he was to you, the tip of his nose a centimeter away from yours, “Everything’s…We’re good now.”

You shakily took a deep breath and nodded your head, “I––I’ve been thinking and I––I don’t want to stay in L.A.”

Shawn’s eyes brightened up at your confession, “You’re not staying there?”

You shook your head and whispered, “I miss home.”

You miss Shawn.

Shawn’s eyes flickered down to your lips and then gazed back up into your eyes. You offered him the gentlest of smiles, shoulders dropping in relaxation, and that was all the go ahead Shawn needed to lean forward.

When your lips pressed together, you instantly closed your eyes and felt Shawn let out a content sigh out through his nose. It was a short kiss, and when Shawn pulled away slightly, you didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re coming back to Canada?” He whispered in a daze, voice full of hope.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep your growing smile at bay, “After I finish this semester, yeah,” you let your eyes linger on his lips for a second longer than normal, before lowering your voice in all seriousness, “I’m coming home to Canada.”

Without any hesitation behind the actions, Shawn crashed his lips back onto yours that had you toppling back a little. You let out a small laugh against his lips as you regained your sitting position and wound your arms around his neck.

His once hurried kisses morphed into slow sensual kisses as he took his time savoring every kiss. His kisses were just as slow as the movement of his hands on your thighs; slowly rubbing your knees, then trailing his palms up your thighs, until he slid them back down to your knees. Everything about his touches, and your kisses, were slow and unhurried.

Eventually, his hands trailed further up your thighs until they didn’t come back down to your knees like usual. Instead, his hands rested on your hips, with one hand traveling to the button of your jeans. You felt your breath hitch in your throat when his fingers popped open the button of your jeans.

Without breaking the kiss, he slowly pulled down the zipper of your jeans and helped you shimmy out of them. Once you kicked your jeans off from around your ankles, you tugged at the bottom of Shawn’s sweatshirt, letting him know that you want it off.

He hummed against your lips in acknowledgement, but didn’t remove his clothing right away, “I want to kiss you a little more.”

You fought to suppress your smile, the corners of your lips still tugged upward, making Shawn’s deep kisses a little hard to continue. With a sigh, and one last peck to your lips, Shawn pulled back and tugged his sweatshirt over his head.

You tilted your head, “No shirt?”

Shawn shrugged as he lowered his gaze back down to your lips, “Most of them here are too small. My sweatshirts still fit through.”

And while everything before was gentle touches and hushes kisses, the earnestness of the situation was coming to light. He looked at you with the same sincerity and understanding that you held in your eyes. He offered you a small smile before he latched his lips to the skin just below your ear.

“If it’s okay with you,” Shawn spoke as he took his time on your neck, depositing slow, wet kisses, some of which would definitely leave lingering marks, “It’s okay with me.”

You tilted your head to give Shawn better access as one of your hands absently played with the curls on the back of his neck, “I––Yes,” you let out a content sigh as Shawn nipped at a spot on the base of your neck.

His lips made a sound as they detached from the skin on your neck so he could look down at you. You held onto his bicep and nodded your head slowly, “We need to talk more in the morning, but for now…” You squeezed his bicep, “I want this.”

“Agreed.”

And with that, Shawn leaned forward, as he pressed his lower abdomen into your front, and cupped the nape of your neck to kiss you deeply.

///

You didn’t know what time it was when you eventually stirred awake, but you awoke with a soft smile on your face. You wore Shawn’s hockey sweatshirt, had his arm curled around your waist, and were pressed firmly against his back as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Waking up in this position was better than anything you ever dreamed about.

After a few minutes of being up alone, you felt the arm around your waist tighten, “Morning,” Shawn’s voice was groggy as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

You closed your eyes and hummed as you felt him pepper a few more kisses along your neck, “Hi.”

Shawn chuckled at your morning greeting before propping himself up on his arm. He squinted his eyes at the wall with the television on it and let out a soft laugh. He looked down at you with an adoring smile as he brought one hand up to stroke your cheek, “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Your eyes winded as you felt wide awake, “What?!”

You went to sit up straight in alarm, but Shawn had other plans. He moved the arm that was propping him up, falling beside you, as he dropped his entire weight on you. You let out a muffled groan into his shoulder as you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“We can afford to sleep in half the day,” Shawn pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Just for old times’ sake.”

You let out a deep sigh, but brought one of your arms out from under Shawn––and the blanket that was draped over him––to curl around his shoulders. You let your fingertips softly graze his back in a figure eight pattern and he let out a deep sigh.

“That feels nice.”

You only offered a hum in agreement because even though Shawn felt like a dead weight on top of you, it felt nice. The whole situation felt nice. Everything from the events of last night, to waking up in his arms felt nice.

It felt almost as good as being in love in high school.

But like every time you felt yourself getting swept away in past memories that were better than anything you felt in the present moment, reality came crashing in like a tsunami.

Because the reality was that you had to go back to L.A., go back to all of your friends––or so-called friends; you heard whispers from one of your closest friends that a girl named Janey just wanted to be your friend because of a connection you had to a production company. It was something you heard before, but it wasn’t something you ever spent a considerable amount of time wondering about.

Out in L.A., you mostly wondered about the only soul who could tell which smiles you were faking.

Shawn was the gentlest and kindest person you’d ever met. His heart was bigger than anyone else’s; and he always made sure to make people happy even when he wasn’t feeling at the top of his game.

He showed people that he cared for them by remembering their coffee order.

He showed people he cherished them by putting their birthdays in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget to wish them a happy birthday.

But most of all, he showed people he loved them by not allowing them to walk home alone in the cold when they were upset.

And now, with that soul on top of you––literally––you knew that the heart you were breaking was your own. How deserving were you of a second chance? How deserving were you to be let into his life again? You were selfish––greedy to have him back in your life––so you would cling onto that second chance, but there was still some left over guilt.

You let out a sigh, “Shawn––”

“Shawn?”

A voice that wasn’t yours––But one that you recognized as the voice of his mother––called out his name. Your fingertips stopped grazing his back and it felt as if you forgot how to breathe. Shawn mirrored your alarm about the situation as he shot up.

“Shawn? Are you here?”

“Oh my god it’s your mom,” you whisper yelled at him.

Shawn’s mouth hung open in panic, not knowing what to say, but then the basement door opened up and his mom called down, “Shawn?”

“I––Uh––Yeah, mom! I’m down here!” His voice was strained as he yelled up to her.

You were still under Shawn, and you prayed to anyone up in Heaven that she would stay up there. You didn’t know how well it would go over if she walked down the stairs and saw you.

You stayed frozen under Shawn as you heard his mom call out again, “We’re going over to the Martin's house in a half hour!”

Shawn swallowed thickly as he nodded rapidly, “Yeah––I––I didn’t forget! I’ll be ready!”

After his mom got his answer from him, she shut the door and neither of you two breathed until you heard her retreating footsteps. Once you were both positive his mom wouldn’t make a re-appearance, Shawn let out a laugh and you smacked his chest.

“That was not funny,” you glared at him, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, “I haven’t felt that kind of thrill since the last time we almost got caught when you snuck over.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Shawn let out another laugh as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You don’t like to talk about it.”

You shoved his chest until he moved off you. With a small laugh, he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, with a regretful smile on his face, “I do have to shower and get ready though.”

You let out a frown, not wanting to leave the warmest bed you’ve ever known in the last three and a half years. Blindly, you reached out for his free hand and slid your fingers between his, “Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you, “Can’t get enough of me, eh?”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile before regaining your serious composure, “We need to talk.” Shawn closed his eyes momentarily, as if not wanting whatever trance he was under to be broken, but when he opened his eyes, you were smiling reassuringly at him, “I want to make this work. We just have to talk about how.”

Shawn released a relieved breath and smiled, “I want to make this work too.”

“We could call it even…” You smirked at him, as he raised his eyebrows in amusement and curiosity, “You could sneak into my house.”

Shawn let out a quiet laugh as he shook his head, “It’s so hard to sneak into your house,” Shawn dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he continued laughing, “Sneaking up to your room is impossible with that tree that’s in direct view of your parents window.”

“You’ve done it before,” you shrugged.

With one last laugh, Shawn pressed a single kiss to your neck before lifting his head up, “That I have.”

Once both of your laughs subsided, you stayed on the futon for a few moments longer just looking into his eyes and holding his hand. While you felt pure happiness explode in your chest at this phase of reconnecting, you hated the fact that you had to leave again.

Even if you were just leaving for a few months and then coming right back to Canada. You felt as if you spent too much time away already.

“Hey…” Shawn carefully pulled yourself out from your own head, “We’re good.”

You held his steady gaze before squeezing your eyes––and his hand––tight, “Even though I’m leaving––”

“I’ll be yours for the weekend,” Shawn cut you off. You gulped at his answer and slowly opened your eyes to see the seriousness he was trying to convey, “We’ll talk more tonight, but we can make this work, I––You have a spring break, right?” You nodded your head, “I can come out and visit. And we’ll figure––” he squeezed your hand, “it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated his promise.

He smiled one last time before leaning his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You have to––” You tried to get words out between kisses, but Shawn kept deepening the kiss to keep you quiet, “Get ready––”

“Shawn!”

His mother’s voice caused him to bolt up right. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet your laughter. He glared down at you, “I’ll be up in a second!”

You shoved his shoulder so that way you weren’t trapped under him anymore. You stepped onto the ground and stretched your arms over your head as you saw Shawn smirk at you. Finding your jeans somewhere on the floor, you slipped them back on, “What?”

Shawn nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, his smirk transforming into a wide smile, “Nothing. Just that I could get used to this again.”

Again.

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would have an ‘again’ with Shawn. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you returned his smile and buttoned up your jeans.

You made sure you had everything you came with before turning to see Shawn at the bottom of the stairs, now with a sweatshirt on. You walked up to him, placed a hand on his shoulder as you stood a bit on your tiptoes, and pressed a goodbye kiss to his lips.

Shawn smiled into the kiss, “Know your way out?”

You smacked his chest and he let out a small yelp, “I could sneak out of your basement with my eyes closed.”

Shawn smirked as he watched you walk toward the door that would lead to an outside staircase that would deposit you to his side yard, and from there, you would sneak behind the line of hedges in his mother’s garden.

Easy peasy.

You opened the door and had one foot out before you heard Shawn let out an over dramatic sigh, “Ah,” his eyes twinkled with a familiar mischievousness, “Feels like we’re back in high school.”

You looked out at the cement staircase with a fond smile, reminiscing on all the times you sneaked out of his place, before looking back at Shawn with a mischievous smile of your own, “Tis the damn season.”

Taglist (add / remove yourself): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1 @samaratheweirdo @sarcasticallywitty15

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes story #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes one shots #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes oneshots #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn #Mendes #Wonder #wow tags really are the worst thing in the world aren't they

193 notes · View notes

strawwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Marvel Christmas Collection Master List

Notes: It’s December, and that means it’s time to break out the Christmas ficlets! A couple of years ago, I took a break from writing to do a challenge where I was given a winter-related prompt and combined that with a character I got out of a Marvel advent calendar--whether or not I had any previous experience with that character. I was given the day to write something between 500 and 1000 words. I’ve deleted some and edited the rest since then, but didn’t do any major rewrites.

For the next couple of weeks at least, I’ll be posting one of these a day along with whatever two things are in my queue. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanuka! Happy Holidays! Or otherwise have a wonderful winter.

Challenge: “25 days of Christmas” Challenge by Sweet-n-Chaotic on Lunaescence Archives.

Posting Status: Complete

Day 1: Chestnuts [Tony Stark]

Day 2: Fireplace [Steve Rogers]

Day 3: Eggnog [Bruce Banner]

Day 4: Snowman [Thor Odinson]

Day 5: Cider [Peter Parker]

Day 6: Tree [Loki Laufeyson]

Day 7: Carols [Eddie Brock]

Day 8: Santa [Matt Murdock]

Day 9: Gingerbread [Miles Morales]

Day 10: Cookies [Stephen Strange]

Day 11: Tinsel [T’Challa]

Day 12: Lights [Thanos]

Day 13: Hot Chocolate [Frank Castle]

Day 14: Stocking [Vision]

Day 15: Nutcracker [Rocket Raccoon]

Day 16: Family [Groot]

Day 17: Frosting [Peter Quill]

Day 18: Party [Ultron]

Day 19: Ice Skating [Danny Rand]

Day 20: Jingle Bells [Bucky Barnes]

Day 21: Peppermint [Clint Barton]

Day 22: Candy Canes [Scott Lang]

Day 23: Mittens [James Rhodes]

Day 24: Presents [Pietro Maximoff]

Day 25: Mistletoe [Sam Wilson]

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #challenge fic #christmas fic #avengers #marvel #mcu #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader

19 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

Home For The Holidays

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,335

Warnings / Misc. -- Potentially Lethal Fluff, Crying, Holiday Themed

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everybody! This idea came to me out of nowhere, but it’s definitely gotten me into the holiday spirit. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Babe, have you seen my beanie?” Your question rings throughout the air, carrying across the apartment in search of Lisa. Just as you get your earrings put in, her reply comes through: “Mhm, it’s in here.” Before setting off to grab it, you take a long look at yourself in the mirror: the nervousness that you’re harboring is decently masked for the moment, but you pray that your composure doesn’t slip in the next few hours -- after all, that would surely spoil the fun that you have in store for Lisa.

“Aha!” You declare, sliding the material onto your head. She stifles a chuckle, which prompts you to look at her. When you do, all of the air in your lungs swiftly leaves your body; she looks absolutely stunning. She chose a simple outfit, consisting of a regular pair of jeans and a cozy sweater, but she makes it look designer.

“I’m convinced that you can make any and everything look good.” You tell her earnestly, once some of your thought processing skills have returned to you. With a roll of her eyes, she engulfs you in a hug; her perfume washes over you, and you fall into her embrace.

“I love you.”

Even after hearing those words from her as many times as you have, they still managed to send your heart wild. You hide your face in her neck, loving the cute squeal she lets out as you pick her up and twirl her around.

“I love you, jagi. So much.” Her eyes find yours, and the moment is perfect.

~~~~~~~

“Keep them closed! We’re almost there.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past 5 minutes.”

“Just trust me!” You laugh at her impatience, keeping your grip on her thighs steady as you make your way towards the restaurant. She lets her head lay beside yours, resting it on one of her arms that’re wrapped around your shoulders. In any other circumstance, she would’ve been whining more by now; this time, however, she didn’t mind waiting a little longer, considering she was comfortable and content, currently receiving a piggy back ride from you. In competition with the frigid air rushing around, your bodies work to keep each other warm.

After a little more walking, you finally reach your destination.

“Reservation, please?” The hostess requests upon your entrance.

“L/N.”

You gently set Lisa down, back on her feet again, and tell her to open her eyes. The expression that takes over her features is priceless, and you pat yourself on the back for having the foresight to book a table here so far in advance. The holidays always made it difficult to get in anywhere in the city without a reservation, and this restaurant is no exception -- in fact, it’s one of the hardest to get into. After hearing about the reviews, the two of you had been dying to try it out.

“Right this way, ladies.” The hostess says, and you fall in line behind her. Lisa links her arm with yours, and she begins ranting about all the different foods she wants to try.

~~~~~~~

The view from your table is unbelievable; seated next to a row of large windows, you can see the entire city before you, throngs of people walking about, enjoying their night out. You take a minute to think of all the possible things they could be doing, what routes they’re going down, each of them having a unique and beautiful story playing out in front of you.

Against your palm, the surface of the window chills your skin. Once you remove your hand, you see the imprint of it on the glass; a reminder that you had been there.

Lisa notices this, and leans towards the window; at first, you were confused, but soon your heart melts at her actions.

She releases a breath against it, the warm air prepping the surface for her artwork; her finger -- the very one that you’re wrapped around -- draws a heart, complete with your initials and hers inside of it.

“You’re the cutest,” she gushes, looking over your features. You can feel how dopey you look, completely in love and in awe by her. You can’t blame yourself, though.

Her hand finds its way to yours on the table, just as it always does, and you bring it to your lips. She grins at the feeling of your lips pressed against her knuckle, and her heart skips a beat. Both of you are completely whipped for each other, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~~~~~

Stuffed and satisfied with the special anniversary meal you just consumed, you and Lisa make your way out of the restaurant. Next up on the agenda for tonight: ice skating.

~~~~~~~

Waves of fresh snowflakes flurry around the two of you, seemingly in a tango with the breeze that’s drifting by; two lovers rediscovering one another. Her hand is warm within your own, the mittens on your skin keeping the harsh temperatures at bay.

The gentle scraping of your skates can be heard against the ice, little patterns trailing behind in your wake. Yellow and white lights are strewn across the sides of the rink, offering a dazzlingly cozy aura, and you take them in. They remind you of the stars in the night sky, shining brightly, a certain unique twinkle held within each and every one of them.

Lisa gives your hand a squeeze, her silent way of requesting your attention.

“Yes, my love?”

A light blush rises to her cheeks as she begins speaking; you’re amazed that she still reacts to your pet names like that, just as she had when you first started dating. It’s adorable, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Let’s grab some hot cocoa, I’m getting a little cold.”

“Alright, last one there has to clean the litter box tonight!” The last part of the sentence leaves your lips in a rush, an attempt to stall her and give yourself a bit of a head start.

“Uh! Hey!” Her shocked exclamation quickly fades as you dash away from her, set on getting to the stand first.

~~~~~~~

Now armed with your warm beverages, the two of you skate over to the bench positioned directly outside of the rink. Conveniently, the seat is equipped with a heater, and Lisa pulls you in tight.

“Mmm, it’s good.” You tell her, taking another sip. She had spent the trip over here pouting at her defeat.

The two of you carried on with light conversation, reveling in the feeling of having each other so close. The city’s atmosphere was always different around this time of year, the holidays adding an extra charm to everything, no matter what it was. You would be content with doing absolutely nothing, so long as you had Lisa by your side -- and she felt the same way about you. Perhaps that’s why your relationship was so strong; genuine love and understanding ran true in every aspect, and you could never seem to get enough of each other. You still felt the same as you did at the beginning: the happiness upon waking up next to her, that excited blush when she told you she loved you, that familiar rush of desire from your passionate nights spent together -- all of it. She’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and you feel beyond blessed to have the privilege of calling her yours.

The night had been perfect so far; memories being made that would surely last a lifetime. The thoughts raced in your mind, swirling around just like the snow had before. They were only stopped by the feeling of her soft lips pressing against your cheek in a sweet kiss.

“Thank you for tonight. I’m so happy.” She leans her forehead against yours, and you brush her nose with your own.

“Of course. There’s no one I’d rather do this with.”

Her eyes are shining with affection, and you nearly get lost in them. Before you can, you stop yourself; your plans for this special night are long from over.

“How about we walk around a bit? I saw more trees and light designs on the way here and I wanna check them out.” She happily agrees, and the two of you change back into your boots before returning the skates. You slip an arm around her shoulders as you begin your journey, and she settles against your side.

You had remembered correctly -- after a short walk, you find the hub of activity from before; a whole block of the city is filled with different vendors and booths, a wide array of services offered. The area is a holiday bazaar, groups of merry people roaming about, lighting up at the different things to do.

Trees line the square, decorated beautifully with various lights and ornaments, their toppers reaching high up into the sky. The moment is too perfect to let slip by, so you retrieve the camera from your bag to capture it all. Lisa cuddles in close to you, smiling widely as you turn the device around to take a selfie of the two of you.

One mini-photoshoot later, you begin your exploration of the square. Quickly, you discover what the places have to offer: some hold arts and crafts, others have face painting, snacks, and even eggnog chugging contests. You grimace at that last one, seeing a group of what appears to be frat boys stumbling around nearby.

Upon spotting a special booth in the distance, you’re quick to remember your reason for suggesting coming here in the first place: Lisa’s next surprise. You do well in acting cool and calmly bringing her attention to the area, being careful not to blow your cover. It doesn’t take much convincing to have her trailing along after you, her hand snuggly tucked into yours.

The booth in question sticks out among the others, a bit out of place in what it offers: for $5, you get the opportunity to knock the city mascot into a dunk tank. The money goes to charity, and everyone has fun in the process. Win-win, right?

The second that you approach the counter, your heart begins racing feverishly -- the plan is coming together. “Just the $5 option, thank you.” You request, and the clerk hands you the balls: $5 gets you 5 opportunities to dunk the mascot into the chilly water below. As you walk over to the tank, you’re afraid that Lisa can see your nervousness; she’s always been able to read you well.

Luckily for you, though, you know just what to do to throw her off your tracks: you pull her in, guiding her lips to your own in a tender kiss. She places her hand overtop of yours, against her cheek, and her fingers lace with yours. She sighs against you, and you smile. Mission accomplished. Before things can get too heated, you pull away, setting the weapons of choice into her hands. “Good luck,” you whisper into her ear, a chill running down her spine at the lowness of your voice.

~~~~~~~

After 3 misses in a row, she’s beginning to get discouraged.

“Ahh, this is rigged!”

As you open your mouth to reply, your phone begins to ring. Right on time. You suppress the smile playing on your lips -- a task much easier said than done -- and tell her that you’ll be right back.

You pretend to answer your phone as you return to the counter, making eye contact with the clerk.

“Are they ready yet?”

“Almost. They’ll be right out.” He smiles back at you, happy to see something like this about to go down. The holidays truly are a magical time of the year.

The moment is interrupted by Lisa’s father walking out of the back room and into your line of sight. “How do I look?” He asks no one in particular, and receives a whistle from his wife, who is also making her way out of the room.

You beam at them, so excited to be with them again. “Those suits look great on you guys.” You tell them, fanning yourself to add to the comical effect. They don the same outfits as the mascot sitting in the tank.

“Alright, so does everyone remember what to do?” You ask, eyes darting between them.

“Once she dunks him, we run out and celebrate.” Lisa’s mom looks to you, waiting for your reassurance of the plan.

“Exactly. Any questions?”

“No, but hurry her up. This outfit is itchy.” You can’t help but chuckle at her father’s words; now, a little weight lifted off of your chest, you make your way back to Lisa.

“There you are! Who was that?” As much as you hate lying to her, you think it’s safe to bet that you’ll easily be forgiven.

“Just someone from work, lame business stuff.”

She accepts your answer right away, and turns the topic back to her mission. With you by her side once again, she resumes her efforts.

After an eternity of careful deliberation and tense preparation, Lisa chucks the next ball through the air; a loud whoosh sound follows behind it, and you hold your breath.

Time seems to move in slow motion; the ball collides with the target, sending confetti into the air and retracting the seat beneath the mascot. Soon he’s submerged in water, everyone in close proximity to the booth now cheering loudly. Lisa turns to you, her arms above her head in triumph, a winning smile on her lips. You lift her up in celebration, and smile against her as you nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck.

With a quick peek over her shoulder, you spot the two “mascots” approaching; you swiftly set her down and attempt to contain your excitement.

Her mother taps her on the shoulder, grabbing her attention. She offers her daughter a balloon -- the customary prize for winning -- and claps when she takes it. Her father gives her a thumbs up and a pat on the head.

As she turns her attention to you, shooting you a look of confusion, her mother stands behind her and removes the mascot head. The subsequent smirk that you don lets Lisa know that something is up, and she spins around once again.

Upon seeing her mother’s face, she drops to the ground, quickly becoming a mess of tears and emotions. The situation is only heightened when her father removes his mask as well, bending down to wrap his wife and daughter up in a long-overdue embrace.

The sight before you has you in tears within an instant; opportunities like this are rare for Lisa, and you feel honored to be the reason for this little reunion. You release a silent thank you to your past self for having the foresight -- yet again -- to squirrel away some money. Something back then had told you you’d need it, and you were beyond thrilled that you had trusted your gut.

Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could’ve sworn that everything shined a little brighter now. The snow sparkled in some majestic way, and the city lights worked together to create a beautiful picture, contrasting with the dark mountains that resided in the distance. Nothing could compete with the view in front of you, though; especially when Lisa raised a hand in your direction, calling you over to their little huddle.

The four of you held each other tightly, simultaneously sobbing and wiping away each other’s tears. No one spoke for a while; everyone was too emotional and content with the happy silence to do so.

Besides, what could she say to you? Lisa knew automatically that you had been the one to arrange all of this and raise the money to get them a flight out. What could she possibly say to repay that? You’re her world, and she’s so happy to have you in her life. People like you are rare, and she cherishes you more with each day you spend together.

None of you really kept track of how much time had passed, but you had made your way into one of the enclosed tents, seeking shelter from the cold and dying to fill each other in on all that's happened since your last visit.

You watch them in awe, loving the way that they light up when they talk to each other. It warms your heart, the way they're all holding hands and looking at each other with so much love. It’s easy to see that this is just what they needed; you can practically see their worries being lifted and cast away.

With one last swig of your drink, you begin to mentally prepare yourself for your final surprise.

In one motion, you accidentally drop your phone into the floor, and crouch down to retrieve it. Lisa gives you a quick look but soon does a double take when she sees you still on the floor, now down on one knee, a small box in your hand.

You’re sure her eyes are about to pop out of her head.

As you clear your throat and swallow your nerves, you glance up at her parents; they’re already looking to you, proud expressions written plainly on their faces. That silent gesture alone is encouragement enough, and it prompts you to begin.

“Lisa…” Wow. One word in and your voice is already failing you. Your eyes shyly scan up to hers, only to find her recently dried cheeks now covered in tears once again. Her hand is clasped over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her cries.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted to marry you someday, and I can’t think of a better way to ask than this. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I’m so glad we get to share this day with your parents. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to properly thank them for making you, but I’ll spend my life trying, as long as you’ll have me. So, whaddya say?”

Lisa has always made it clear how much she loves you; despite knowing that, you can’t help but feel nervous as you wait for her answer. Her head is swimming with just about every different emotion imaginable right now, and she’s doing all she can to hold in her tears long enough to respond to you.

“I love you so much. Let’s get married, Y/N.”

A loud whoop leaves your mouth upon her reply, the sound echoing around the space.

You surge forward, eagerly pressing your lips against hers, and she cheerfully takes you into her arms. Once the ring is on her finger, you walk around to the other side of the table and embrace her parents. Having their approval and support means the absolute world to you, and you take a minute to think about how perfect everything turned out.

Now, once again cuddled into Lisa’s side, one of your hands playing with the ends of her hair, you look up into her eyes.

“How did I get so lucky?” She asks, looking down at you, utterly overjoyed with what went down tonight.

“It was written in the stars, baby.”

Lisa’s heart swells at your words, and she pulls you in impossibly closer. Wanting to give the two of you some private time to celebrate, her parents leave the table and go to order some food from across the tent.

Now alone, her lips find yours again, and they take their sweet time in showing you all of the things she didn’t know how to verbalize to you. She peppers kisses across your face; starting with your cheeks, then your nose, and finally, your forehead. You let out a squeal as she grips your waist, her fingers gently toying with the fabric of your sweater.

Sitting there, in the arms of the love of your life, you’ve never felt more content. What a night, you think to yourself, smiling at her parents once more.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading!

#lalisa manoban #lisa manoban #lisa x reader #lalisa #blackpink #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagine #lalisa imagine #blackpink x reader #lisa x fem reader #let-them-read-fics

170 notes · View notes

darter-blue · 3 years

Text

For my Christmas prompt challenge with @martelldoran and @kalee60

Prompt: Mistletoe

Find it here on ao3

Bucky is not having the best time.

Objectively, looking back at some of his past experiences, this should be a cake walk. He can catalogue the following as evidence: He is not tied down. He is not under duress. He is not fighting for air. He does not have any kind of electrode, or electrical device strapped to or near his body. He is not being put into cryogenic storage. He has not been given a gun, a knife, and a mission to use those weapons to hurt, maim or kill.

He is not being hurt, maimed or killed.

And the big one, the kicker; he is not alone.

But. Therein lies the problem.

It’s true that Bucky craves company, the warmth of a body close by, the comforting sound of someone else's breathing, the weight of their presence in a room. But he can only handle one or two people at the best of times. At the worst of times, well, he can barely handle himself, it’s no good for anyone else to be near him.

And this, right now - well there have to be close to a hundred people in this room.

Admittedly it's a large room. Of course it is, it's Tony's tower. The room is open to the entire space of this floor, and split level. But still. It's loud and it's crowded, and the exits are compromised, and Bucky hates it. He hates it.

And Steve. Steve isn't here yet. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. He was supposed to be here to make an appearance, to be a team player, smile happily and accept Christmas gifts and drink the spiced wine and then rescue his old friend Bucky from the smothering effect of too many people and not enough air.

But he's not here. He's stuck at a press event for the Avengers, and has sent Bucky a text to say that he would be there soon, to please wait for him, that it had been too long since he's seen him and also he needs a good excuse to get out of the party early.

What better excuse is there than a broken down ex-assassin with proximity issues and a desperate need to get home to his (too) quiet, park slope apartment.

So. Bucky is stuck until Steve arrives.

He managed to get here on his own, though, so at least he can tick that box off his recovery list. Today he performed grown-up-human-being tasks. He has made polite conversation with people he doesn't know well enough to panic on, he's managed to keep down three out of three of the hors d'oeuvres he's picked from passing plates, and he's managed not to slip into staring his murder glare at anyone, not to scare the shit out of Tony's guests, or the wait staff, or the other Avengers. So he will be patting himself on the back tonight, perhaps he can look back and see the pain as being worth the sense of accomplishment.

Bucky is especially proud that he's managed to dress festively, as requested, in a dark green knitted sweater covered in tiny reindeer, a red knit cap to keep his head warm and red and white Christmas mittens that, despite his compulsion to do otherwise, he removed upon entering. Shortly before he sat down at the couch he quietly pulled into this corner. They are sitting next to him, folded, on the coffee table. Next to his eggnog and the helmet for his motorcycle.

Natasha has been swinging by his spot every twenty minutes to gauge his emotional state, and each time she looks more ready to pull him up and force him to mingle. So far Bucky’s face has persuaded her to avoid the inclination.

Someone finally does collapse into the seat next to him, but it's not Nat and it's not Steve. It's the kid, Wanda, with her long auburn hair and her big eyes and her haunted expression.

'Is it okay if I sit here?' she asks, looking over at Bucky, perched on the end of the cushion like she's ready to jump up at the slightest sign that Bucky doesn't want her there.

And though he’s terrible at talking to people (he remembers fleetingly, that he was good at it once) he can’t deny that the proximity, the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the heartbeat Bucky's enhanced ears can hear, nice and steady; it all serves as a balm for the excessive number of people shouting and laughing and eating around him.

'Sure, you can sit there,' Bucky answers, flicking his eyes up and down Wanda's outfit. Green, red and white striped stockings with a short red pinafore dress over a green long sleeved t-shirt. 'I like your outfit. Festive.'

'Oh,' she says, looking down at herself, 'Yes, well. This is my first ever Christmas, so I'm taking it very seriously.'

'Ah,' Bucky says, not wanting to poke too hard at the subject, lest she not wish to open up, 'It's my first Christmas for the last seventy years or so. I went a bit overboard with festive as well.'

'Are you holding up okay?' Wanda asks, a lilt to her accent, her head cocked slightly to one side. 'Did you need anything?'

'I'm okay,' Bucky lies, 'I'm just… laying low.'

'I can see that, ' Wanda smiles as she looks over the couch he stole away to hide on, 'But it's good that you're here.'

'Thanks, kid,' and he means it. There's few people in the world who can understand what it's like to live in Bucky's head. He's lucky that two of them happen to be here tonight, keeping an eye on him.

And of course now that Bucky has found someone to talk to, Steve finally arrives. When the way Bucky's eyes will seek him out, will track him, is made even more obvious by the fact that it stops him mid conversation. And though he's conscious that Wanda is watching him, Bucky can't help the laugh that escapes him at the sight of Steve in his "festive" outfit.

He has put zero thought into it, it's just his regular outfit, blue jeans and a too tight blue dress shirt, but with the addition of a headband with some kind of green and red decoration fastened to a wire, standing straight up over Steve's head.

And Bucky would be excusing himself to get up and go over to him, only it seems like suddenly every other guest at the party has had the same idea. Bucky knows that Steve is a favourite, that people flock to him. Bucky is well acquainted with the particular brand of magnetism that Steve has possessed his entire life. But this is different.

Every new person that greets Steve is reaching up to kiss him. Most people are pressing rosy Cheeks to Steve's and planting a kiss there. But every so often someone will bypass Steve's offered cheek and press their lips to his lips. Lips plump and pink and now accosted. Lips that Bucky has been staring at since Steve walked in the door. Lips that he's always had trouble looking away from.

But Bucky’s indecision is a moot point now. Steve has spotted him tucked away in the corner with Wanda and smiles. He says something low and serious to Sam, on Steve’s right, their heads bent forward and their shoulders touching. And then Steve laughs and looks up, claps Sam on the shoulder and makes a beeline for Bucky. Scattering people as he wades through them, singular target now in sight.

He gets three feet from Bucky and then pauses. Standing straight and looming over Bucky and Wanda. Looking between the two of them nervously.

'Hey Buck, sorry I'm so late.'

'It's no problem, Steve,’ Bucky says, nervous by proxy, ‘Wanda's been keeping me company.'

'That’s good, you look good. I love the sweater, where did you find it? Have you been shopping?'

Bucky has to admit, this level of nervousness is unusual even for Steve. 'No I made this,' he says, pulling at the knit, ‘I’ve been knitting as part of my therapy.’

'You made that, Buck?' Steve asks, strange half smile on his face.

'Yeah… it's a work in progress.' He dropped a few stitches, it's a little uneven at the neckline, but it fits and it's warm, so Bucky is happy with it.

'No, I love it.'

And Bucky doesn't like the fluttery feeling those words set off in his stomach. He tries to deflect. 'What about you?' Bucky asks.

'What about me?'

'What's with this terrible excuse for a festive outfit, some holly or whatever over your head?'

'Oh you mean the mistletoe?' And Steve eyes are darting away from Bucky, his feet are scuffing the ground.

'Ah,' Bucky says, suddenly understanding the rush to get to Steve so they could kiss him, 'You did that on purpose?' He only asks, because normally Steve hates to be kissed, or touched, or be the center of attention. Also it's fun to watch Steve blush. Always has been.

'Well, I mean. yes. It's festive! I ran out of time to implement my first plan, this was a back up.' Steve is getting more flustered with every word.

'It's cute,’ Bucky says, making light of it, worried Steve might spontaneously combust with this sudden onset of nerves, ‘And there are people lining up over there to actually kiss you. Seems like a good plan...'

'I didn't really... I mean I didn't want...' Steve can’t seem to find the words he's looking for, and Wanda looks between the two of them and stands up from her chair.

'I have to go find Maria, come and say goodbye to me before you head off, okay Bucky?' Wanda asks, already backing away from where Steve and Bucky are speaking.

'I will,' Bucky calls out after her, and she salutes him sloppily before turning away.

'Sweet kid,' Bucky says, looking up at Steve, 'So sorry, what's with the "kiss me" sign that you've decided to dress in for this party?'

'It's not a- Listen I hadn't exactly thought this through, okay?'

'Sure, that sounds just like you,' Bucky says with a laugh.

'I just wanted, I just thought, it might be nice to have an excuse to-' Steve cuts himself off by closing his mouth with a snap.

'An excuse to kiss somebody?' Bucky asks. And this time the laugh is fake. Because Bucky doesn't want to know who Steve has his eye on. Who Steve wants an excuse to kiss at this party. Stark knows a lot of pretty people. Although for a moment Bucky is frozen by the idea that it might be Sam. The two of them are close in a way that makes Bucky's heart hurt a little. But that's not his job any more. It's not his spot. He's not Captain America's right hand man. He doesn't have Steve's six. Sam has that now.

God he hopes it's not Sam.

(He likes Sam, he does, but he can’t ignore Sam. He would have front row seats to watch the whole thing unfold).

Whoever it is, Steve has gone bright red. It shouldn't be so fucking gorgeous, the red flush that creeps up into his cheeks, that spreads down his neck, out to his ears. His few freckles stand out starker against the flush and he looks younger. More innocent. More like the Stevie that Bucky still has patchy memories of, from before the war. Before Steve got big.

'G-ah,' Steve starts with a strangled cough, 'No it's... Well I mean yes but I...' Steve looks around, scanning the room and his eyes land back on Bucky, wide and terrified.

'Are they here, Steve?'

And Steve nods slowly, reluctantly.

'Do you need me to go with you?' He asks, like maybe Steve needs a wingman. Though god knows, from what Bucky remembers, he was never very good at it in the past (which was potentially deliberate on Bucky's part, if the emotions attached to those faded memories are anything to go by).

'No Bucky, I...'

'If you're chickening out you can always just take the thing off your head, Steve, no sense getting worked up about it.' It's criminal, the relief Bucky is feeling at the idea that Steve might not be able to go through with it.

' No Buck. I just - will you give me a second to figure this out,' Steve says, and he steps closer as he speaks, his words almost a plea, the way he's looking at Bucky.

And Bucky has to nod, because he never could deny Steve anything.

Steve steps closer still, right in front of where Bucky is sitting in his chair, and then drops to his knees in front of Bucky. Which... has Bucky raising an eyebrow. Has him moving forward in his seat to lean into Steve's space, find out why he's looking at Bucky like that.

When Steve reaches across with his big hands to take a hold of Bucky's and rest them on Bucky's knees, it's time for Bucky to start asking questions.

'Stevie, what is it?'

'It's you, Buck.'

'What's me?' Bucky asks, and the worry that he might have done something to warrant this bizarre behaviour is clear in Bucky's voice.

But Steve just smiles and shakes his head. 'Oh Buck,' he says, leaning impossibly closer, 'It's for you . The mistletoe,' and Steve looks down, his ridiculous eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as he does, and then up again, to fix Bucky with that bright blue stare, 'The mistletoe is for you .'

Wait. What? Bucky has to process that. He has to take a moment to hold that thought in his mind and turn it around until it makes sense. The mistletoe is for Bucky?

'You want...' Bucky stares into Steve's eyes and now that he's looking for it, sees the same stress, the same fear in Steve's expression as he imagines can be seen on his own, 'You want to kiss me , Stevie?'

And Steve sighs a puff of air with relief. 'Yeah Buck, that's exactly what I want.'

And Bucky. Bucky doesn't wait a second longer. He shifts further forward and pulls Steve in sharply by their clasped hands. Steve lets go to catch himself on Bucky's shoulders, and Bucky lifts his free hand to cup it against Steve's cheek. 'Me too, Stevie,' Bucky says, sighing the words into Steve's lips, they're so close to touching, 'I want that too.' And he tilts his chin up to meet Steve's mouth, living out this moment he’s been dreaming of for too many lifetimes. He fits his lips to Steve's, opens into him, draws Steve in with the slight press of his tongue, sucks Steve's bottom lip in and bites down on it gently.

And Steve, Steve pushes back against Bucky. With a sudden rush of power he drives into him, pushes him back against the couch, crowds into him, uses all his bulk to slam Bucky into the cushions and kiss him with a ferocity that should scare Bucky but in fact does the opposite. Bucky can't do more than simply clutch at Steve, hold on by his fingertips as Steve attacks him. Open his mouth to Steve's lips and teeth and tongue.

It's not until they hear someone clearing their throat that Bucky remembers they're at Stark's party. Practically in the middle of a crowd of people.

They separate slowly, look up furtively, and it's Nat looking down at them. The rest of the guests seem to be turned away with feigned nonchalance.

'So ah, not that this isn't hot as fuck,' Nat says, smirk on her face and in her voice, 'But you might want to slow down before you start removing clothes. You don't want to show Tony up at his own party.'

'Fuck,' Steve says, pulling away just enough to Bucky to breathe beneath him, 'Shit, sorry Buck.'

'It's okay,' Bucky says, breathless, 'But ah,’ Bucky looks around and back up at Steve, who’s shirt buttons have been ripped open, the mistletoe knocked askew, hair sticking up everywhere, ‘Maybe we should get out of here.'

'Oh,' Steve says, his pupils blowing out wide at the idea of their leaving together, 'Oh, but I don't have a car. Sam drove me.'

'It's fine I've got my bike, it's just big enough for two,' Bucky says with a smile, and Steve smiles too, wide and joyful.

'Well go on then, Jesus,' Nat says, shaking her head at the and pointing over her shoulder, 'Get out of here, I can make your excuses with everyone for you.'

'Thanks Nat,' Steve says, standing up and pulling Bucky with him, leaning in to press a kiss to Nat's cheek, 'I owe you one.'

'You owe me many,' she says ominously. 'Hurry up before I change my mind.'

And they don't need to be told again. Steve pulls Bucky along behind him as they head for the elevators. Ignoring any and all curious faces.

'My place or yours?' Bucky asks as he presses the button for the garage.

'I don't care as long as it's with you,' Steve says, staring down at Bucky.

And Bucky can't do anything but stare back. And scream internally. And thank god that he didn't leave the party early.

Because this... This is everything Bucky wanted and more.

This might not really be his first Christmas. But it's his best. It's the best.

It's perfect.

#stucky #christmas stucky #steve x bucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fluff #friends to lovers

98 notes · View notes