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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months

Text

Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya going?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you‘ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a change.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #soft bucky #soft!bucky barnes #college!reader #college!bucky #college #frat boy

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mapileonxputellas · 6 months

Text

Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

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bunnyreaper · 6 months

Text

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 4 — 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.8k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, hints of petplay notes - i blame barry for the delay, jk. anyway, sorry it took so long but i hope you enjoy! also on ao3! ♥

You've officially reached the point of insanity, and there's no turning back. One date with Johnny, and you're practically doodling his name in a journal with hearts all around, or putting your name with his just to see how it sounds.

Admittedly, you haven't done either of those things, but you did turn down another night out drinking this weekend on the off chance you end up having plans with Johnny—which might be just as insane, if not more. Especially since you hadn't brought up your intention with Johnny.

You suppose there's no time like the present, so cuddled up on your couch, you bring up your messages to Johnny and start typing.

i miss you so much, even if it's only been a few days!! when can I see you again?

Straight to the point—unbridled emotion that's honestly a little cringeworthy, but there's little point in pretending to be something you're not, especially when Johnny seems perfectly into it.

You have to distract yourself for a little while, scrolling through various social media apps to occupy your mind as you wait for a response. It's not too long before your phone pings, and you're rushing to click the notification—each time his name pops up on your screen your stomach flips, and you always click onto the message far too eagerly. You wonder if he does the same.

Been thinking, and I did have an idea in mind, but now am overthinking.

That certainly piques your interest, as you speedily type back a response, almost demanding an answer.

tell me!!

You watch the screen as it tells you Johnny is typing, then nothing. Then typing again, then nothing. After a minute or so of stopping and starting, his picture fills the screen as his call waits for you—you pick up immediately.

"Hey, pet." He greets cheerfully—so much so that you can hear the smile in his voice. It's so much better now the image of it is burned in the back of your mind—it feels like the two of you never stopped smiling when you were together.

"Hi, Johnny!" You reply, just as enthused, despite it only being a day since you last spoke. "What's your idea?"

Your insistence on hearing his idea makes him laugh.

"Straight to the point, lass. I was thinking that ya could come stay fer the weekend?" You detect a hint of hesitance in his voice, while your heart practically leaps at the prospect.

A whole weekend with Johnny sounds like a dream—talking, cuddling, kissing... maybe more. You burn with need thinking about finally taking things to a more sexual level with Johnny. So far you've only teased each other, and even that has made you unbelievably needy—practically every conversation with him leaves you dripping and aching, leaves you yearning for relief that you can only get at Johnny's hands.

Not only that, but maybe you'll get to explore more of your dynamic together—the thought of getting to submit to him sends you into a tailspin. You know it would come so easily, you know you'd slip under Johnny's command so easily were he to just take ahold of your metaphorical leash.

You come to, realising you'd fallen completely silent instead of responding when Johnny speaks again—lighthearted yet hesitant.

"... But it's okay if you don't want to—"

"I want to! On base?" You ask, already starting to unfurl the logistics in your head.

Johnny chuckles good-naturedly, seemingly amused by the idea of having you come over to his place on base. "Nah, I have a flat in Hereford."

"Oh, cool. I was a little scared for a moment." You admit, a hint of nervousness before you change tack. "But ooh, are you aiming to get laid this weekend? Bold move, Johnny."

Admittedly, you're teasing and not offended by the assumption in the slightest, if anything, you know wholeheartedly that you want him. If you go on much longer with the level of teasing Johnny subjects you to without any relief, you may just combust.

"You're the one making assumptions, needy girl." He teases right back, and then continues more earnestly. "I wasn't counting on it, jus' want to spend some quality time with you. Can't exactly cuddle up in a café."

How he manages to balance wholesome and filthy so well you have no idea. Consistently, Johnny shows his depth and keeps you on your toes by making you flustered in every possible way. One moment you're blushing from desire, the next from his sweetness.

"So... it's a sleepover, then?" You giggle as you snuggle closer to the couch cushions, already thrilled at the idea of spending time with Johnny in any way.

Johnny laughs right along with you, launching back into joking. "I'll even paint your nails if ya want. Braid your hair, talk about boys, as long as the boy is me..."

The hint of possessiveness makes your stomach do somersaults—despite the early stages of your relationship, your heart is set on Johnny, and it's reassuring to know he might be in just as deep.

"You're the sweetest! Do you even know how to braid hair, though?" You try to imagine Johnny's large hands working with delicate strings of hair, as braiding is something you even struggle to do yourself.

"I have sisters and nieces. Taken part in many a makeover." He proudly admits, and you can feel the joy radiating off of him. No threat to his masculinity at all, just sheer enjoyment at being the subject of his niece's whims.

The image it conjures up is downright adorable.

You nod to yourself, storing that piece of information in the back of your mind for later. "I'll keep that in mind for when I need to dress up for a special occasion."

The giggles are unavoidable as you picture big, bulky Johnny painting nails—you'd put good money on him being the kind to poke out his tongue when he concentrates.

Your thoughts start to drift to other plans for the weekend, other things you might get up to. Johnny was adamant that sex wasn't expected, but on your end, it's certainly still desired... at least in theory.

There are still some residual nerves and worries, even with Johnny's constant sweetness—past events, past bad experiences lurk in the back of your mind waiting to sabotage the present.

The need you feel almost overwhelms all of that though—the way Johnny just seems to speak to all the submissive parts of you, making you feel so desired and so safe.

"So... what if I want to have sex?" You ask, voice falling quiet as if admitting something forbidden—as if Johnny isn't going to do filthy things to you far beyond just sex.

A throaty, strained groan leaves the man, his voice dropping low and dripping with desire. "Might have to have you stay longer, since you won't be walking after."

You suspect the idea of you struggling to walk isn't just bragging—if you close your eyes, you can almost see his length, remembering how good it felt even though thick denim jeans.

"I— yeah, okay." The sigh that leaves you is instinctual, hot with anticipation.

"I've got condoms, but yer welcome to bring your own," Johnny mentions. "And I'll pick ya up Friday evening, drop you off Sunday night? How's that sound?"

"Wonderful." You say honestly, loving that you'll get to spend the weekend with him, all while being cared for and driven there and back. "Ooh, I get to be your passenger princess."

You giggle mischievously, playing it up for Johnny as your mind runs wild with ideas.

"Don't be getting any ideas, lass." He chides, playfulness clear in his tone.

"Hey, I was just planning on taking over your radio and telling you fun stories. Nothing more!" Your voice rises through your protest, as before Johnny had turned it dirty, you really hadn't been thinking of the way your hands may drift to his thigh, or palm at his cock.

"Not sure if I believe that. I felt the way you were squeezin' me under that table, yer a naughty girl." He purrs, making shivers run through you.

"You started it, not me." Your gasp is full of offence, proclaiming your complete innocence. Of course, you had wanted to feel him up way more than you did and had undoubtedly had a few very sinful thoughts while he was sitting next to you.

But you had been good, had behaved, and kept your hands to yourself. It was Johnny who led you to sin.

"So, you won't be feeling me up unless I'm the one guiding you?"

At that you fall silent, too stunned to speak—the thought of Johnny guiding you through pleasing him, guiding you into being perfect, just for him is overwhelming. He'll lead you deeper and deeper into submission—trust.

"Oh, you like the sound of that." Johnny's purr has you completely dead to rights, as once more, he sees right through you.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to settle your rapidly swirling arousal. "Of course I do..."

Johnny doesn't relent in his teasing, in his almost cruel display of control of your desire. Everything from his word choice to the dominant edge in his voice sends you spiralling. "Want me to show you how to please me, puppy?" He coos. "Show you how tae be a good girl fer me?"

"Please, sir." You feel your mind slip just a little—falling so easily into that blissful state just listening to Johnny's tone, finding it so easy to fall for him.

"Won't have to show you much, you just know how to turn me on naturally, like it's instinct. Fuck, lassie." The guttural noise from Johnny shows the effect his own words have on him too.

You hope he's squirming just like you are, achingly hard and straining against his jeans, just like he was in the café.

The tension crackles in the air between you, the silence thick with your joint lust settling deep in your respective guts.

You let out a shaky sigh before you respond. "It's only fair for us to be equal on that front since you just... I don't even have words. It's like you read my mind so you can drive me crazy."

Johnny is undoubtedly insightful, likely an occupational thing, but sometimes it's scary how well he can read you. He's not the only one who naturally knows how to appeal to someone's baser desires.

For a moment, and quite unfairly as the logical side of your brain notes, your gut twists at the idea of how he became so well practised.

Johnny's sweet laugh pulls you from that train of thought. "Am a smart man, perceptive, what can I say? Know how to read ma pet."

"I'm not your pet." You note, not bitterly, but rather plainly. You're not Johnny's—

"Not yet, aye, but you will be." He says with a sense of certainty.

"Johnny..." You don't even know what to say to that, beyond begging and pleading for him to make it come true—but that hardly feels appropriate right now.

"Even if we don't have sex this weekend, I'd like to explore things with us a little, if tha's okay?" He asks, his voice open and inquisitive, almost shy in how quietly he poses the question.

"Me too, I don't wanna rush too much but holding back somehow feels...wrong." You sigh, wishing you had the words to really explain the pull you felt. "It's like I know I shouldn't be rushing head first into this, but... I can't stop it."

Johnny is truly a magnetic force of a man, both in who he is and the way he treats you. There's so much about him that you can't wait to get to know, all the beauty and scars in equal measure, each story—the meaning of the waver behind his smile, the way he sounds first thing in the morning.

"Me either, if it helps." He admits, sharing the sentiment. "It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other, aye?"

Your eyes flutter shut as you rip the phone away from your face, letting out a loud exhalation and a whispered "fuck". The warmth of his words and the weight of the meaning behind them overwhelming you, wrapping around you like a cosy blanket.

When you feel a little calmer, you return the phone to your ear to agree with Johnny's sentiment, though not quite as viscerally as you did in private.

"Yeah, just gotta keep each other straight." Your throat tightens as you push the words out.

The silence on the line is overtaken by shuffling from Johnny's end for a moment before he clears his throat. "Gotta go, pet. Duty calls."

"It's... 8 pm, what are you doing at this hour?"

There's a laugh from Johnny, and a more insistent knocking in the background. "Going for a pint with the lads."

"Oh duty, huh?" You tease.

He hums in affirmation, unashamed. "Team bonding, essential stuff for the functional operation of any squad."

"Have fun, Johnny." You wish him well sincerely, even if part of you wishes the call didn't have to end. "Talk soon."

"Talk soon, princess. Sleep well." He makes a kissing noise before ending the call, his photo disappearing off your screen before you lock the phone and clutch it to your chest just for a moment.

'It's okay to fall, just gotta be there tae catch each other.'

His words echo through your mind over the coming days—the light in an otherwise dreary weak.

You were definitely falling.

————

Packing your bag feels like chaos, as you desperately scramble to not forget a single thing. You're only going for a weekend, and yet you're packing like you're bunkering down for the apocalypse. Well, a million pairs of underwear will be necessary with how Johnny ruins them just with his words and his voice—being there in person means you'll probably be going through a new pair every hour.

And of course, you need cute extra outfits, in case the two of you go anywhere... that means extra shoes too. Johnny is going to think you're crazy with all the bags and belongings you're bringing.

Thankfully, you got ready hours ago—did your makeup and hair to perfection and put on a pretty dress that you may have ordered just for Johnny. Okay, maybe you ordered several dresses just for Johnny.

As you rush to put the finishing touches on your packing, your phone buzzes with a text.

Outside whenever you're ready :)

i'll be out soon! <3

Maybe you should tell Johnny you'd buzz him up, but considering that your packing has made your flat look like a tornado has ripped through it, perhaps it's best not.

You do your best to rush, not wanting to exhaust Johnny's good patience, jamming in a few final items you might need just in case, before locking up your flat and heading down to the lobby.

You step out into the car park, spotting Johnny standing beaming, leaning against a jeep. His arms and chest bulge in his burgundy Henley, his jeans are slung low on his hips in such a tempting way. Is it possible he got more attractive since the last time you saw him?

Your eyes crawl over him, drinking in every little detail and falling for his good looks all over again—just as enraptured in his beauty as the first time.

"Hi." You call out as soon as the two of you meet eyes, the spark between you instantly reigniting just through a look.

"Hey, you." He immediately reaches for your bag, taking the weight off of your shoulder like it's nothing to him—even though the weight was already starting to strain your shoulder. "Let me grab that for yer."

You let him take your bag, watching with glee as opens the boot to put it away. The manners are such a turn-on. "What a gentleman."

His chest puffs up in pride, a resolute look on his face. "Ma maw raised me right."

After closing the door to the boot, Johnny jogs round to the passenger side, holding the door open for you to climb inside.

"That she did." You nod, impressed and honestly swooning at the princess treatment as Johnny climbs into the driver's side.

With the two of you finally in the car, Johnny leans back to grab a shopping bag from the backseat, opening it to display a range of goodies. "Need anything? I brought drinks and snacks."

You peer inside the bag to see what he brought before meekly taking a bag of cookies and a can to drink. "Ooh, it's like a real road trip."

Johnny reaches back to put the bag away, stopping with his hand resting on the back of your seat—his baby blues shine, as does his smile as he looks upon you. "Gotta look after ma girl."

Your heart hammers against your chest, your cheeks flush and burn.

His girl.

"I could get used to that." You whisper, lost in watching his mouth, recalling the way they wrapped around those words.

"Me too, bonnie."

Before he turns his attention to getting the car running, he double-checks your seatbelt, making sure you're safe—he makes sure his rearview mirror is perfectly placed taps to activate the directions on his phone.

And then he does the thing—the arm on the back of the seat, backing out of the parking space and looking so fucking hot while doing it. You're entirely transfixed.

"I'm just getting it out of the way now, but I am gonna stare at you a tonne, you already look so attractive when you're driving." You know you're babbling just a little, a side effect of the nerves, and the fact that Johnny looks so good to you right now.1

"I'm all yours to feast yer eyes upon." He says with a wink, before turning his attention to the road as he pulls out of your apartment's car park.

"Lucky me." You whisper, gaze tracing over all of his features. "Especially since I love looking at you so much."

"Shame fer me tha' I have tae keep my eyes on the road." The smile on his face widens as he spares you a glance, doing a quick double-take.

"At least we have all weekend to spend time together uninterrupted." Feeling brave, you reach out to rest your hand on the back of Johnny's head, caressing the nape of his neck and threading your fingers in the roots of his hair.

Johnny's shoulders relax, as he leans slightly into the touch. "That we do." His voice turns serious momentarily. "Did you let someone know where you're going?"

Sweet Johnny, always concerned for your safety, even when it comes to him. The awareness he shows is another thing in the long list of little details you admire about him.

"I forwarded all of your info to a friend, so you should be very afraid." You tease easily. Your friend is under strict instructions to call the police should you not check-in.

"Terrified, lassie." He smirks. "Just tae be clear, you wanna go home at any point, I'll take you, or drive you to the station if yer not comfortable."

"I appreciate it. And if you want to kick me out, feel free."

"I'd never." He gasps, full of offence. "Unless ya decide to trash my flat, and even then that's only if you started damaging my keepsakes from ma granny."

It's your turn to gasp now. You wonder if that comment was inspired by past events—the kind of warning that only comes after you've experienced the event. "Only a monster would do such a thing."

"Aye, and I bet you can be a brat, but not a monster."

You shrug, a coy smile on your face, knowing just how bratty you can be when you want to be. "Everyone needs to be a little bratty sometimes."

"Hmm, do they now? Good job I won't get tired of putting you in yer place then, pet."

Johnny's hand slides from the gear stick to your thigh, his fingers curling around the exposed flesh just above your knee. The feeling is entirely electric, especially in combination with his words, making you hyper-aware of every sensation as his thumb sweeps over your skin and his hand tugs your legs ever so slightly apart.

"This okay?" He asks, glancing down to where his hand is settled on you—you know 100% if you said no, he'd withdraw in an instant.

"More than okay." You smile earnestly, slipping your own hand across to rest in the same place on his broad thigh. "But can I do the same?" You embrace the denim beneath your fingertips, relish in the firm muscle that rests underneath.

"As long as it's just tha', don't distract me too much." He smirks, turning briefly to wink at you.

You try to keep your eyes on the road and your hands respectful. "Can't concentrate on two things at once? Seems unlike you." You tease.

"I can." He protests, firm and certain, before his voice softens. "But I dinnae want to risk it. Precious cargo on board." He fixes you with a meaningful look in between glances at the road.

"Johnny..." You sigh, blushing profusely at his compliment and way of thinking.

"Dinnae care what anyone says, a man who'll drive like a nut with his lovie in the car is no man at all." He nods firmly, face morphing into something serious—though his eyes are filled with mirth, as his serious facade almost cracks."

"So no road head... ever?" You gasp, genuinely a little taken back at the prospect.

Johnny breathes deeply through his nose, his knuckles on the wheel turning white as his hand at your thigh grips. He faces ahead still, yet speaks slowly. "If the first time I get yer pretty mouth on me is while I'm drivin', I will crash, tha's all am saying."

"I value your honesty." Your voice leaves you as a whisper, your attempt to joke falling flat at your own breathlessness. You take a moment to compose yourself, before starting to tease again. "Save it for tonight, then?"

It's Johnny's turn to swallow hard. "We'll see."

The car journey falls silent for a little while, and the lack of conversation, while comfortable, allows for unpleasant and doubtful thoughts to creep in.

The truth is, you can talk a big game, but sometimes your desire becomes outpaced by your nerves—then you're left struggling in a swirling pit of darkened thoughts. Every time Johnny pulls away to change gear, you find yourself feeling a little colder until his hand returns.

But it doesn't do well to dwell on anxious thoughts. You force yourself to stop biting your lip, stop letting your mind flicker back to bad experiences, and actually speak to the one person who can offer you comfort right now.

"I am a little nervous..." You let the words fall free, and feel a little surprised at how small you sound.

"Aww, don't be. There's no pressure at all, promise." He says, sounding sweet and genuine—his hand squeezes your thigh once again. "Even if the furthest we go is cuddling on the couch, I'll be a very happy man."

The smile on his face speaks to the truth of the statement, and you can't help smiling right back at him.

"I appreciate you saying that." You think for a moment before continuing, trying to put into words the true source of your angst. "I just... get hesitant about opening up, I guess. Some guys before have promised me the world until they got what they wanted and then..."

You trail off, not feeling the need or the strength to go into detail about last time, or the time before that.

"Tha's not me." Once more, he squeezes and lets his thumb rub over your skin. "But I don't expect ya to just take my word for it, I'll show ya, as long as it takes."

His words mean more than you can say, and the fact he intends to back them up means even more. You really hope you can count on him.

"You're so sweet." You sigh, feeling full to the brim with appreciation.

Johnny seems a little nervous too, frenetic energy making him shuffle in his seat. He seems to be lost in thought for a few moments before he finally speaks up.

"I'm not looking to rush in and make a mistake maself. The last girl I dated..." He trails off too, his words tinged with dejection as he stares straight ahead. "Let's jus' say it didn't end well, either."

You nod understandingly, all too familiar with things not ending well. "You don't have to tell me now."

He shrugs slightly and seems like he's refusing to meet your eye any longer. "Don't want tae ruin the mood."

"It's hard to ruin it, Johnny. We're meant to be spending time together, getting to know each other." You offer your most reassuring smile, hoping he catches it out of the corner of his eyes. "I have my fair share of sob stories to unload on you, don't worry."

Although, that's another source of worry, that Johnny will run for the hills once he learns of your baggage.

"I don't doubt it." His lips fall into a frown, before being schooled into a half-hearted smile. "Hopefully we can replace them all with good stories instead."

You silently nod, hoping for the same.

"Speaking of good memories, I was thinking we could make pizzas together, I got the dough and some toppings." Johnny mentions, and the notion fills you with joy.

"Sounds like fun!" You gasp, a pressing thought flickering into your mind. "What kind of pizza toppings do you like? I feel like this is make or break."

Johnny seems to think for a moment, his tongue poking into his cheek. "Hmm... What are the most controversial choices?" He asks, a shit-eating grin breaking out on his face.

"Hmm, pineapple?" You pose a controversial yet not particularly gross topping first, to gauge Johnny's taste.

"Aye, don't mind it."

"Anchovies?"

He shrugs. "Why not?"

"... Olives?"

Now he turns, perplexed. "Who doesn't like olives?"

"A lot of people! They're horrible." You whine.

"The black ones aren't so bad, ya big baby." Johnny looks as he turns in time to watch you frown, his voice turning so condescending. "Aww, poutin' like one too. What did I tell ya about poutin' in front of me?"

"That you'd kiss me, nibble on me even." You squeak.

You watch as everything about him changes—his eyes grow stormy and lidded, his lips curl into a satisfied smirk and his voice drops dangerously low. "As soon as we get back, those lips o' yours are mine."

"... Yes Johnny." Your reply comes automatically, an instinct that you know will be capitalised on.

"Sound so sweet when ya say my name like that." He smiles brightly, genuinely pleased.

"Wait til you're fucking it out of me."

"That won't be the name I want to hear from that pretty little mouth, bonnie girl."

Shit.

You shiver all over, squirming in your seat. "Yes sir."

"Fuuuuck." Johnny groans, squeezing your thigh extra tight for good measure. "We should set some ground rules for the weekend."

He suddenly sounds quite serious, though you suppose it's a good thing. Boundaries are needed, especially if you're to keep things sensible and consensual.

"Yeah, sounds good." You nod, falling quiet to allow him to lead the way.

"I'm not gonna make ya do anything, don't think we're ready for that, but I'd like to tease it, if tha's okay?" You love the way he sounds measured and yet hopeful.

"More than okay, though I'm sure you love to tease." You giggle, filled with a little nervous energy. Johnny already teases you so much, if he steps up his game any more you might straight up melt into a puddle.

"Who doesn't? What did ya say about everyone needing to be a brat?" He jokes, winking—all charm. "But aye, think we need a long talk first before anything proper."

"I look forward to it, though." You admit. Despite detailing a lot of your interests and limits in your initial post, it's good that Johnny is adamant about revisiting them properly. Still, you're excited to get to a point where you both feel comfortable truly exploring your dynamic. "So... can I call you sir?"

Johnny falls quiet for a moment. "If it comes naturally to yer. Feel like it's something I should earn."

"You're already doing it, you make it easier to trust you with everything that you do." Like insisting the name is something earned, you think.

"I'm glad tae hear that." He nods, the smile on his face only slight, as he weighs his responsibility.

"I do have some questions, though." You begin, somewhat hesitantly, but you suppose it's good to lay your cards on the table completely. A part of you can't live with uncertainty—needs to know Johnny's true intentions.

He eyes you for a moment, before nodding. "Go on."

"So, say you had complete control over things going forward, what would you want to happen? What do you... want for our relationship?" You take a moment to breathe after spilling all of that.

Despite his focus on driving, you can see the cogs in Johnny's head turning as he mulls over your question.

"I want ya to be mine, in every sense of the word. My girl, my pet, my love. Everything, and I want tae be the same to you."

It's fortunate that you're stopped at a red light, so Johnny is free to look upon you, the meaning deep in his gaze stills you completely.

The light turns green, stealing his attention back, yet he continues to elaborate—a fond smile on his face.

"I'll always protect ya and look after ya, and you'll love me and care for me the way a good girl does."

"I'll get ya a pretty little collar, and a day one too, so no one ever forgets who you belong to."

It's amazing to you how Johnny can make your heart thump and cunt throb all in one sentence, in one look.

"We'll get you a cage, a nice training routine, and we'll fuck like animals."

His hand returns to your thigh, just as respectful as it has been all the drive thus far.

"And when we're not fucking each other's brains out, we're cuddling on the couch, going on dates, spending time with friends. All tha' normal couple stuff." He finishes up with a happy sigh, a far-off look in his eyes as he turns his attention back to you.

"What about you?"

After everything Johnny just said, an expression far beyond what you expected, you find it hard to verbalise anything at all, and certainly not something as wonderfully smooth and tempting.

You open and close your mouth a few times before finally getting your words out.

"Pretty much exactly the same." You cringe internally at how lame and lacklustre your words sound in response. "I'd like the dynamic to extend beyond the bedroom if we can manage it. For me, there isn't really an off switch."

You can only assume Johnny sees eye-to-eye with you on that, considering he replied to your post in the first place.

"Seems to come naturally with us, I like tha'."

"Me too."

Johnny removes his grasp from your thigh, opting to lace his fingers through the hand of yours sitting in your lap. "I'm glad we're on the same page, bonnie."

You squeeze his hand, relishing the way he instantly squeezes back reassuringly. Despite being connected in this way, you find it hard to look at him as you stumble through a self-conscious admission. "I was a little worried it was gonna be just sex."

"Already well beyond that, pet," Johnny replies in an instant, before chuckling and squeezing your hand again. "Dinnae go all shy on me now."

"Why? I'm sure you enjoy seeing me blush and squirm." You mumble, trying to hide your blushing cheeks.

Johnny hums, amused and content. "Good job tha' I know all the best ways to make it happen then."

You hide your face in your other hand, cupping your burning cheek and disgusting your shy smile. "It's only gonna get worse for me too, I know it."

"Promise to use my powers for good, lass."

You meet Johnny's gaze again, and feel a deep joy and contentedness flowing through every part of you.

"You better."

You drive through quiet, suburban streets on the outskirts of Hereford, rows of houses passing by until Johnny turns into a street—fairly empty, and neither upscale nor impoverished. On the end sits a house, since converted into two seemingly distinct flats.

"Here we are." He comments, pulling a car to a stop and turning off the engine. Johnny leaves the car first, eager to open the door for you once more.

"Ooh, are you upstairs or downstairs?" You ask, looking at the flats and the surroundings.

"Upstairs," Johnny replies, grabbing your bag again. "Landlady lives downstairs, sweet woman."

Your mind is flooded with a little old lady, lonely and completely adoring when it comes to her young renter. "I'm sure you have her completely charmed." You giggle, imagining the effect Johnny has on older women.

"Oh aye." He laughs too, a knowing glint in his eye as he leads you up the stairs, unlocking the door. "Keeps trying to set me up with her daughter."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm."

As the door opens, the smell hits you—clean and fresh with an undertone of something masculine. The entryway is narrow and crowded with jackets and boots of all kinds.

"I better tell her you're off limits." You joke, as Johnny steps aside to allow you in.

He doesn't reply, simply taking ahold of you and pinning you to the door, slamming it closed behind you. His firm hands pin you by the hips, pressing you between him and the door in an instant.

"Johnny!" You gasp, breath stolen from you as Johnny is suddenly in your space—so close and hot and heavy.

He leans in, one of his hands from your hips drifting up your body, trailing up your breast and your neck, before stopping at your jaw. His large hand cups your face, thumb swiping across the plush of your lips, parting them slightly for him—he's entirely transfixed, eyes filled with arousal as they flicker between your lips and your eyes.

Closing the final few inches, his lips brush against yours, and you can practically taste the mint in his breath.

He dives in, kissing you fervently, pulling you flush against him as he practically devours your mouth with his lips and tongue. His teeth worry at your lip, his tongue collides with yours, and his hand at your waist grips you intently as a throaty groan leaves him. "Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now." taglist: @cooliofango @ramadiiiisme @pterodactyal @simonrillleyyysss @hexqueensupreme @ivymarquis @oilfics @ghosts-cyphera @msdrpreist @collmemabi @ysljoon @kmi-02 @mockerycrow @nakedcrackers @cassiecasluciluce @xcup1d @cloudsovercoffee @lovewithasideoflust @abbiesxox @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @bubuslutty want to be tagged? click here! want to be untagged? dm me or comment, i won't be offended <;3

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #soap mw2 #call of duty fanfic #soap cod #collars and cages #keeping up the over 5k chapter length woooo

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kararisa · 1 year

Text

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away.

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’.

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair.

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.”

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books.

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work.

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop.

So sometimes you read just to pass the time.

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three.

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

#albedo x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #albedo fluff #ayato fluff #scaramouche fluff #childe fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin modern au #genshin drabbles

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chouettecrivaine · 8 months

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Ah, Young Love! [Our Life: Now & Forever]

Fandom: Our Life: Now & Forever

Characters: Qiu Lin, Tamarack Baumann

Notes: takes place during Step 1, so he/him is used for Qiu as that is how he identifies at this point in the story!

So anyway I'm obsessed with how everybody wants Qiu but Qiu only has eyes for MC once they meet so I'm thinking about his silly little boyhood crush. And then I couldn't leave best girl Tamarack out of the love fest so here's just a few little things I was thinking about with them having childhood crushes on u <3

Note that only the demo is publicly available and I am not currently a patron so anything here that is proven true is coincidence and anything proven false is just me having a little fun

Qiu Lin

So like. I've seen Qiu call you pretty twice in the demo. Once when you meet him if you choose to call him pretty first, and again towards the end of what's available in the demo when he's listing off reasons why you should be allowed to join the club..

I just think that whenever he talks about you he always has to let it slip that he thinks you're cute. "They had on a really nice hair clip today!" "Their hair looked so cute when they took off their hat at school." "When I picked them up to walk to school, I was so surprised at how pretty they looked!"

When he told his parents about you he probably said "this really pretty kid surprised me in our yard and we went on a miniature adventure!"

Also (and note that my MC uses she/her so im gonna quote him using gendered terms but only for this one instance) When he's introducing you to one of his friends, he starts off with your name and says "she's a girl!" (Or whatever terms you have set)

So I just think he says the most basic facts about you with so much awe and wonder 🥺 like you wore overalls to school? He talks like you invented denim. You had a funny comment or joke? It's like he's never heard one before in his life when he retells it.

I feel like…the first thing that makes him interested in you is that you're new. Not only does this make you fun to mess with, but it makes you far more interesting than the people he's known his whole life. Plus you, unlike Tamarack, don't immediately brush off the cool things he wants to show you or do with you if it isn't immediately your cup of tea.

Darren and Baxter are sick and tired of hearing your name !! If you're not around Qiu wonders aloud at least once if he should or should've invite(d) you. If he did invite you and you had to decline, then he wonders what you're doing.

The type of kid to skip out on his weekend chores at home and go to your house to help you unpack instead

Ok so MC says they used to live in an apartment, right? Probably in the city? And MC was only allowed to play on their own because Golden Grove is "a safe neighborhood?" What if MC doesn't know how to ride a bike. What if Qiu teaches them…

Whether you get a hang of it or not, he daydreams about doing that thing where he rides the bike and you sit backwards on the seat or on the handlebars or something

When he finds out you can't ride a bike, he definitely shows off by riding around without his hands on the handlebars.

Will teach you how to jump off the swing set too, then will have competitions over who can swing the highest and leap the farthest

I feel like Golden Grove has a cute little main street with a bunch of locally owned shops. If you're interested, he'll show you every. single. business. Even if most of them are "granny shops" he isn't interested in. He'll let you poke around for a bit :)

He has a special page in his notebook for all the little notes and doodles about you

If you look closely at the note he gives you after class, you can see the remnants of a few tiny little hearts that he erased!!

Going back to him offering you to ride on his bike: he probably got you in trouble once because you were on your front lawn and he rode up asking you to go on an adventure with him on his bike. You're expecting a fun little 20 min ride through the walkable path in the woods that'll have you back home by dinner. Instead he takes you to town and buys you ice cream and the two of you have to struggle your way back up the hill on foot and it takes like an hour and a half to get back and your mom was worried SICK

Buys a pack of pens with one/some of your favorite color(s) and writes you notes exclusively in that/those ink(s)

If you and your mom go somewhere and he knocks on your door while you're out, you will come home to see him sitting on the steps to your front porch and waiting for you

Before class starts, he always gives you a funny face or a wave. If you come in late because of a doctor's appointment or something, naturally a lot of the kids turn to look at your entrance, and he immediately waves at you. Maybe even says hi to you out loud if he knows Mrs. Murray is in a good mood / he can get away with it.

If he finishes his work early or something, he'll turn around in his seat and just watch you from across the room with major heart eyes. He smiles wider and waves when you notice.

Anything you compliment him on, he immediately draws attention to around others. Say his hair looks good today? He'll hit you with a "oh but not every other day?" but then tell his seatmates about what you said.

Buys extra portions of his little snack bags of chips and candy or whatever he likes when he can so that he can give them to you during lunch.

Gets on a kick and will pester you about having a secret handshake until you let him come up with one. He likes having special things just you and him 🥺

Probably invites you to his hideout at a specific time and day every week and he gets soooooo excited for that time to roll around.

Tries extra hard in your favorite subject, even if it's one he hates. He's not trying to be top of the class, but he doesn't want you to think he doesn't care about something you care about!

If you like a class he's terrible at, he'll ask for your help! Or, if you struggle in a class he's good at, he'll volunteer to help you out even though he HATES the concept of doing extra schoolwork. That's how much he likes u

He'll do this with any windows but especially if one of your bedroom windows faces his: he will definitely pull a Taylor Swift in "You Belong With Me" and write notes for you guys to read to each other

Since he can't sit with you, he'll write you notes or make you doodles and then pretend he has to get up to sharpen his pencil so he can pass your desk and slip it to you

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack will straight up just stare at you 👁👁

She follows you around like a lost puppy and visibly brightens up when you're around

Looks forward to school because she gets to sit next to you all day! Like she'll skip happily along the path with you and Qiu and you'll ask her if she's looking forward to all these things and she'll just go "No!" and when you finally give up and ask why she says "because I get to spend the whole day next to you!"

When she goes to play in the woods, sometimes she'll spend a while in the shallower end of the tree line waiting to see if you'll come outside and play with her

Has definitely thrown sticks and pebbles at your back door to lure you out before she gets bored

Likes to go around and pick up the coolest rock, the prettiest flower, the biggest piece of tree bark, a leaf the size of her head…then before she goes home for the night, she stops by your house and gives what she picked up to you!!

If you're not home then she leaves it on your porch with a note, usually held down by a rock if it's not something heavy

She'll be over the moon if you give her cool rocks and stuff you found. Even if you're literally giving her trash, like if you ONLY give her bottle caps or pop tabs you find on the sidewalk, she cherishes them. Would make jewelry out of them tbh

Ok so quick tangent but there's a book I read in about 4th grade called Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, and in it the love interest girl is the quirky type. One thing she has is a little decorative cart on her dresser which she puts rocks in every time she's happy and takes rocks out when she's sad. When the protag goes to her house and finds out, she explains how she has put the most rocks in it since meeting him. They kiss sometime after that and she puts another rock in and tells him about it. I think Tamarack would have a jar or a doll house bathtub and she would do the same thing, putting rocks in it when she's happy! So what I'm saying is give her plenty of rocks so she can exclusively use MC rocks for that

Also will make matching jewelry for the two of you without even stopping to think if you even wear what she's making. She'll buy kits to make special rings and headbands, braid a million friendship bracelets out of multicolored string, use acorns she found to make earrings…anything! She is just as happy if you wear it then she is if you buy a jewelry display stand and show them off in your room. Eventually she adds keychains into the mix for some variety

Doesn't mean to spend a lot of her time waiting on you but she does. On weekends, instead of going directly into the woods, she'll just lie on her back in her yard and stare up at the clouds, completely still, daydreaming (about you) until she hears your door opening. Then she runs to you.

If any of your windows are open, particularly your bedroom window, she'll send a bunch of paper airplanes your way. Most of them make it! However, you've learned that if you find even one paper airplane inside, you're going to have to check that side of the house for more scattered on the ground

Grips onto your arms or your clothes whenever she can. You two are connected.

Makes a BIG effort to like anything that you like as much as you do! And when she follows you around, it doesn't really matter if you're doing something she doesn't care about. She just wants to spend time with you! It does make her whole week if you follow her into the woods, though.

She doesn't take notes in class, but you leave a writing implement out for her and sometimes she'll reach over and doodle a cute bear or something on your paper :)

If you say you're cold, she'll give you her scarf, no questions asked. Is also down to share but don't let her do that while you're walking because it WILL end badly

Has wrapped the scarf around the two of you and tied you guys together before and yes it was the best recess of her life

When walking, she tends to lean into you which sometimes almost turns into pushing you and Qiu into the road if you're not careful

Likes to drag you around places and pretty quickly invites you to her house. She doesn't tell her grandparents that she's inviting you over, so they're surprised by you almost every time, but they don't mind! She's dragging you up the stairs to her room too quickly for them to say anything anyway

#our life now and forever #our life now & forever #our life #qiu lin x reader #tamarack baumann x reader #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #☆ qiu lin #☆ our life #☆ olnf #☆ tamarack baumann #🐚 capricorn ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{hcs}#🌠 pisces ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{all writing}

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sin-djarin · 8 months

Text

Video Nasty (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 18+. MDNI.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Your quest to clear out the basement leads to an unexpected discovery.

Warnings: SMUT, porn with minimal plot, unspecified era, mentions of food, no mention of age (reader is in late 20s), unprotected P in V sex (don't do this, be safe), sweat, creampie. No use of y/n.

A/N: Listen. I don't know anymore. Forgive me for any typos or grammar errors please.

You can read other snippets from this here:

Video Nasty II: Restricted Viewing

PLEASE PUT YOUR AGES IN YOUR BIO. I REALLY DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO BLOCK ANYONE.

Reblog and comment to make your writer's day.

There was one task you had been putting off every weekend since you got here – going through the boxes of stuff in the basement. That’s all it was known to you as – stuff. Stuff and probably junk. About six or seven cardboard boxes - only identifiable with your name or Joel’s on written in marker on the front of them. All of them holding your belongings that had yet to be sorted through waiting to be assigned their places throughout the house.

When the seasons changed you wondered where that certain cosy sweater might be or where the mug you’d had since college went. You just never looked for it. Only the essentials had been taken out of their boxes – enough plates and glasses to eat and drink with along with some other day to day necessities like underwear and socks.

But today you were taking the plunge. The day passes you by as you sort boxes of your old jeans, bras that no longer held their shape, notebooks and sketchpads full of doodles, and piles of CDs and cassette tapes. It took so long because every time you pulled something out a decision had to be made – keep it or donate it. In other words; keep the memory or lose it. When you pulled up a t-shirt, it’s too easy to relive the moment you wore it to that fourth of July party ten years ago. And that’s all of this is now – memories. You sigh at the thought but find a small mercy in the fact you can always make new ones.

Joel’s boxes are easier to go through than yours. Mountains of entangled cables each with an unknown function, screwdriver sets with some parts missing, dozens of old different sized and shaped batteries. Most of this, you guessed, could go straight in the trash. As you come to the end of his second box, a smell of pepper and basil hits your nose. Hours have gone by.

“Dinner” his voice booms from the top of the basement stairs, calling you to the kitchen.

“Just a second” you reply.

There are only a few items left in the box. If you finish, you can eat dinner with a sense of accomplishment. Quickly you take out the stacks at the bottom and start to make decisions about the various sheets of papers in your hands. A few old drill manuals – he doesn’t use this brand anymore – trash. Baseball cards – keep – they could be worth something.

The last thing in your grip is a square white envelope that’s beaten up. But it’s sturdy. Flipping it around, the view through its clear plastic window makes your jaw drop. It’s a DVD. The disc itself is white with big red letters that say NASTY NURSES VOL VI. In a smaller font underneath reads five minute preview – not for resale. A giggle escapes you at the thought of Joel watching something so cliché. Opening the envelope to pull the disc out to get a better look you can see it’s been used – the scratches and fingerprints make that clear.

“Hey” you jump as he calls for you a second time.

“Coming!”

You shove the disc in the front pocket of your sweatshirt and climb the stairs to the kitchen.

He’s already sat at the small dining table, hunched over and half way through a plate loaded with pasta in a tomato sauce and chicken. Taking your seat opposite him, you try to hide the grin that threatens to spread across your face. You know something he doesn’t.

“How’d it go?” he asks, with a mouth full of food, his head only inches from the dish.

“Yeah. Went through everything” you tell him. Your chewing making it easier to disguise your smile.

“You look pretty happy about it. Are we keeping a lot?”

“Not really. Tried to get rid of as much as I could”

“Right” he nods and continues to shovel forkfuls of pasta into his mouth.

You’re starving but you only pick at your dinner. Your thoughts are stolen by what could possibly be on that DVD. More than likely, it’s not anything brilliant. But the idea of what Joel did while watching it is all consuming. It’s not a taboo image – him getting off to porn. But it is distracting, more tempting than the food on your plate. And he notices.

“What’s wrong? Too much salt?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.

“No, no. It’s great” you bite your lip, trying to stifle that same smirk.

“You should eat” he points to your plate with the silver fork. “Been down there for hours and it’s late”

He’s right; it is late. Late for eating dinner anyway. You take his advice and eat until you’re comfortably full. When you’re done, you lean back into the wooden chair and he carries your plate away to the sink. Watching him clean up doesn’t help, it only sends your mind into a whirl. His broad back is turned to you – one arm holding the plate steady under the running water, the other moving backwards and forwards holding a sponge while his head bows, looking down at what he’s doing.

He shuts off the faucet and spins back around to you, wiping his hands with a towel.

“What’s that?” he points to your stomach.

You look down, expecting to find a mess of sauce down your black hoodie but it there isn’t one. But there is the corner of the envelope peeking out of your pocket. Fuck.

“Just uh…something I found” you say, hoping your answer would satisfy him.

“Can I see?” he rolls his eyes.

You hesitate for a second, quickly running through the outcomes of showing him the secret you had inherited from him. He could be embarrassed, he could feign ignorance and claim it’s not his – that it just fell into a box of his stuff.

You take it out and hand it over to him. His eyes fall down to study it, eyebrows knit together as he recalls the moving pictures. He runs a hand over his mouth and it falls to his side again before his eyes dart to yours to see what you’re thinking.

“I, um” he clears his throat, his Adams apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he does.

“It’s okay, Joel” you smile reassuringly.

“Yeah, no. I-“ he shifts his weight on his heavy boots.

You stand and run a hand down his arm not wanting him to become uncomfortable about it. Because he shouldn’t be. It’s an acceptable activity. You start to walk away from him towards the stairs with the smile very much settled on your face now.

“This what you were smilin’ at?” his voice comes from behind you as you leave him along in the kitchen.

________

The hot water of the shower blasts away all the dust and fluff that gathered on you on your journey to declutter. It feels like a weight has been lifted, as you mentally check the day’s activity off your to do list. While you throw on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear for bed, you think about your discovery. You didn’t think he was too embarrassed, but you do assume that it’s something neither of you will bring up again.

When you step out of the bathroom, Joel has already changed out of jeans and flannel shirt and swapped them for his usual sleep outfit of a tank top and heather gray boxer briefs that both hug his muscular body. He sits on the edge of the bed, one leg resting on it and his other foot planted to the floor. The only light on in the room is the lamp on your beside table as you make your way over to your side and sit back against the headboard, taking your pot of moisturizer from the drawer of the nightstand and begin applying it to your calves.

Joel hasn’t moved an inch. When you glance at him his lips are pursed as he combs his fingers back and forth through his moustache, eyes focused on nothing in particular ahead of him. Your intention wasn’t to embarrass him, but maybe you had.

Screwing the lid of your body cream back on and tucking it back into the drawer, you attempt to spark up a conversation about the whole affair but he beats you to it.

“Think we should watch it?” he mutters into his fingers, his gaze still targeted ahead of him.

Your brows raise at the question. This was taking a different route than you had mapped out for yourself.

“Do you want to watch it?” you counter.

“I mean. If you want to y’know, I just-“ he swallows hard. “Haven’t seen it in years” he explains, his voice is unsteady, like he’s trying to convince himself of the idea.

Shit. It must be that good. All five minutes of it. Of course there’s no denying it – you’re curious. he knows what’s on that DVD and you don’t – it could be anything. And the earlier idea of making new memories is more appealing now than ever. He wants to share it with you.

“Put it in” you smile.

He gets up to and inserts the DVD into the side of the TV – a feature that you had never really used for anything other than rewatching movies that had grown to be a comfort to you on a bad day.

He resumes his position, sitting on the bed bent forward with one elbow resting on his knee while the other holds the remote. You brace yourself, sitting back against your pillows. He scrolls through the output options and selects DVD from the menu. With one final look over his shoulder at you, he presses play.

Immediately after the rated R disclaimer, overly enthusiastic moans blare from the speakers. A blonde woman dressed in a flimsy white nurse outfit that stops just above the knee appears. The camera pans down her legs to show off her matching white lace stockings. The next clip has her on her back on a gurney, legs spread open wide as she plays with herself. She’s interrupted by another actor, dressed in a lab coat. You can see where this is going…

Joel is completely focused on the screen, eyes are narrowed and his teeth terrorize his bottom lip. It’s difficult to tell if he’s enjoying it or not.

Meanwhile, the next clip has started. The nurse has shed all her clothes apart from her stockings and the doctors face is buried in her pussy. It’s unclear if she’s having a good time either. Her expression looks forced and you can’t see a thing he’s doing for the back of his head – you find yourself unable to compare his technique to Joel’s. Before you know it, she’s bent over and he’s pumping in and out of her from behind.

It’s all jump cuts - from scene to seedy scene and gratuitous oohs and aahs echo through the bedroom. Then she’s on top, after that she’s on her knees as the doctor stands above her as she moans something along the lines of give it to me. And right before the money shot – the DVD stops.

Joel leans back on the bed as the movie returns to the DVD menu that’s similar in design to the front of the disc. You’re not a porn connoisseur, but you’ve indulged enough to know that that was not quality viewing. You wouldn’t class it as sexy, just rough and ready. There’s no plot, no story and no happy endings for anyone. It’s just…porn.

“So what was your favorite part?” you question him, eager to know just why it showed so much wear and tear on the shiny plastic of the back of it.

He shakes his head. “Dunno” he sighs. He’s disappointed; his viewing experience wasn’t like he remembered it to be. Maybe there were too many people present to enjoy it.

“But you must have liked it before”

“Before, yeah” he agrees and lays down fully on his back beside you.

“Why? What was your favorite part?” he probes you now.

“I kinda liked it when she was on top of him”

“That right?” he turns his head towards you, ears pricking at your admission. “Why’s that?”

“You know why, Joel”

“No I don’t, baby. Gonna need you to explain that to me real good” he drawls, reaching over to grab your leg and maneuver you on top of his hips in a swift movement.

His palms run up and down your thighs that spread wide across his waist. You feel him becoming stiff underneath you already. The feeling of it and image of him broad, and willing beneath you is enough to send a warmth to your pussy.

“C’mon, now. Tell me” he pleads.

“Can feel it better”

“Feel what better?”

Fed up of waiting for clarification, his fingertips slide underneath the fabric of your underwear and you jolt as they brush over your clit, travelling down to part you. He licks his lips as your slick coats their skin. Slowly, you start to rock against the heel of his palm, evoking a high pitched moan at his touch. He stares up at you, eyelids heavy with lust over brown eyes as he watches you move at your own speed, allowing you to take what you need.

“Feel this better?” he rasps as his middle finger slips into you.

“Yeah” you breathe, leaning on his toughened chest for support as you vary your movements, alternating between up and down and back and forth, keen to feel as much of him as possible.

His ring finger enters you next and the sudden fullness makes you gasp but the stretch is wonderful. But it’s not long before the heat of both of you grows to be too much for him. He removes his hand and pushes at your sides so you stand above him. You can see the patch of gray material that’s become a darker shade around his leaking tip that’s been confined to his underwear.

He’s quick to remedy it though – pulling down your underwear and his before lowering you back down on top of him, only straightening back up for a second to pull your t-shirt over your head. You bend forward to wrap your hands around his neck he raises his head slightly to meet your mouth for a hungry kiss. It’s fiery and uncoordinated – all teeth and tongue but you both meet each other's deep moans at the sensation.

His fingers dig and curl themselves into the hair at the back of your head while you start to slide your slick folds along the thick length of his cock, the smooth head of it making a delicious contact with your aching clit.

“Can you cum like this, darlin’?” he wonders, purring into your neck while his hands slither down your ribcage to knead your breasts.

Instead of an answer, you raise up off him to anchor yourself with your knees either side of his hips and rest your hands on his shoulders, pinning him in place to feel the friction of his bare cock against your clit. His hands travel to the curve of your ass to guide you along.

“God” you pant. “Yeah, Joel” you warn him as that spark begins to ignite in your abdomen.

You push your hips harder into him, desperately chasing your orgasm now. The growing heat of it creeps up your back and he swipes the hair out of your face to see your eyes tighten and your mouth fall open when it finally crashes over you and you’re left breathless, pulsing on his cock.

Joel lets you catch your breath for a minute, calloused fingertips skating over the soft skin of your back as you recover from your release.

“Think you can take me? It’s okay if you can’t” he cups your jaw to look at him.

You steady your breathing. He’s not done yet, despite his cotton tank top that’s ridden half way up his stomach growing damp with sweat as it clings to his torso. Tiny pebbles of it forming on his forehead. And truthfully, you weren’t finished yet either. Not with him under you like this –still leaking against his belly – needy.

He offers you his hand to help you position yourself over him, knowing your legs aren’t to be trusted after moments ago. His free hand wraps around his cock, holding it steady for you to slide onto. Inch by inch it stretches and fills you, your soft walls encasing him. He grunts through gritted teeth, head pushes back into the mattress once he bottoms out. It takes a second for you to adjust to this new fullness.

“Jesus, baby. Fuck” he hisses as you slowly start to rock, bodies finding a synchronized rhythm.

Every time your hips rise and sink back down on him the head of his cock hits that spot at front. He’d asked, but you couldn’t articulate why it feels better. Joel can only watch as with each bounce you become a little bit more breathless and your movements a little less graceful trying to angle him perfectly below you. You’re lost in all of it; the filthy slick sounds, the vibrations of his deep hums and the swell of him inside you.

He interprets it well, you think when he brings his hand to his mouth to lick his thumb and starts to massage your clit with the soaking pad of it. He applies enough pressure to draw you dangerously close to another orgasm.

This picture of Joel through bleary eyes writhing below you is more sinful than anything your mind had created when you imagined him watching that DVD by himself. The lamp throwing light from behind him highlights the flexing muscles in each bicep and forearm as they work to hold you. The speed of his chest rising and falling faster underneath his tank top that is virtually stuck to him like another layer of skin is mouthwatering. You did that – not a DVD. The thought of that alone coaxes another tidal wave of pleasure to rip through every nerve ending. There’s no energy left to scream, you only manage a choked cry through a dry mouth while the aftershocks of it cause you to clench around his thickness.

Your body hangs heavy over him as he moves his hands to grip the meat of your ass, lifting you ever so slightly and begins to thrust at his desired pace. The veins and tendons in his neck bulge as he pistons in and out of you, hunting for his own orgasm. With every stab his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“Hmm. Fuck” he curses and whines, air puffing from his flared nostrils as it hits him.

You feel him spill inside you, its heat coats you. One hand leaves your ass to push your shoulder back, signaling you to sit back and be fast about it.

“N-no. I’m not done” he warns and dips his waist to pull himself out of you. Another two ropes spray over your lower belly and drips down your thighs. Your heavy eyes widen at the sight of it, skin burning at the feeling of it, taking you both by surprise.

You collapse on top of him and lay your head on his shoulder. His heart is hammering against his sternum but yours is matching it beat for beat. Both of your bodies are spent, only focused on stabilizing your breaths in a rooms that feels likes it’s starved of oxygen. Your earlier shower was futile you think as you lie messy on top of him.

“Maybe we can watch something you like next time” he heaves a deep, satisfied breath.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic

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heartbreakgrill · 8 months

Text

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt 2, "it's new, the shape of your body. it's blue, the feeling i've got."

description: situationship x stiles stilinksi.

"so, you didn't even fuck him?" danny leaned forward in his desk, whispering pathetically to y/n, who was seated in front of him.

stacking her textbooks onto her desk, y/n twisted around to face her friend. "sh!" she looked around with paranoia, hoping no one heard danny's loud mouth. she rolled her eyes back towards danny, "quiet down, idiot. no, we didn't fuck."

"why?!" danny groaned, planting his forehead in his hands, "you had the perfect opportunity!"

y/n shrugged, "i just wasn't ready. i still barely know the guy."

"you don't need to know his favorite color to have sex with him. it's supposed to be casual, remember?" danny reminded.

twisted around to face danny still, she crossed her arms over the curve of the top of the chair, "i know, i know. but, ugh, i don't know. i just want to know a little bit."

he replied, "just a little bit, though. you don't want to get too attached."

"yeah, no, of course," y/n trailed off, focusing her attention back to the front of the room as the teacher demanded the students' to listen.

y/n pulled her phone from her pocket as it buzzed. underneath her desk, she responded to stiles' text.

stiles stilinski: nah, literally. i understand the books weren't finished, but they didn't have to end the show the way they did.

y/n: i kinda liked how dany went off the rails, but it was way out of her character development. i'll have to text you later, class is starting, and i'll be busy the rest of the day. see ya!

stiles stilinski: no problemo, have a lovely day!

y/n quickly shoved her phone into the side pocket of her bookbag. she sat up in her seat, doodled across the top of her notebook with a new pen, and attempted to focus her eyes on the chalkboard as the teacher wrote out the lesson title.

but her mind was focused elsewhere.

"y/n," stiles moaned against her lips as his body pushed up against hers.

she grasped at the hairs curled at the nape of his neck, giggling slightly at his neediness. "yeah?"

stiles sighed, exasperatedly, "you're...so...pretty."

y/n grinned, interrupting their kissing. stiles pulled his head back slightly, "what? did i do something wrong?"

she shook her head, meeting his brown eyes, softer in the dim lighting. "no, you're perfect.”

stiles had drove her home after the hangout at danny's. he insisted on listening to taylor swift and continued to intently ask her questions about anything and everything.

when he dropped her off, he waited at the curb, jeep idling, until he saw he safely enter her house. it made her heart skip a beat.

then, when she closed the door, reality came crashing back down.

y/n showered, went to bed. she was coming off of her high, and she was remembering all of the awful details of the past summer. stiles became an afterthought.

she made the mistake of looking at a few photos in her phone. missed stiles’ text telling her he got home safely.

she texted him when she woke up. he immediately replied, assuring her it was okay for her late response. he made one comment on something insanely random, but they delved into a conversation about it.

it got cut short, as it was saturday, and y/n had to go straight to work. it was insanely busy i’m the restaurant she waitressed at, so y/n didn't get a chance to check her phone all day. she hoped, though, that stiles would text her. of course, she hoped sam would, too. but that was always a hope a heartbroken person carried, right?

even if they knew, logically, it made no sense. it wasn’t right.

stiles, he did message her. they continued to text, back and forth, all weekend long.

y/n didn’t agree that casual sex needed to exclude any and all forms of friendliness. the only thing that needed to be removed from the situation was feelings, beyond anything amiable. and that was easy as pie.

after class, y/n had a free period. and that was the last class of the day. so, she dumped some of her books off at her locker, and decided to head home for the day.

on her way out to her car, she texted stiles back.

y/n: how’s your day going?

he didn’t respond right away, which he normally did. but, she knew he was in english, and the new teacher was pretty strict about phone usage.

y/n opened the driver’s side door, tossed her book bag in, and went to slip into her seat when she heard her name being called. she looked to her left and saw stiles jogging across the parking lot.

y/n furrowed her brows, tilted her head, “shouldn’t you be in english?”

stiles came to a halt before her, hands on his hips, “what? oh, um-“ he looked behind him, as if the answer lied towards the lacrosse field, “i got let out early?”

that sounded like a question. “hm,” y/n smiled slightly, “you’re skipping class.”

“oh, you’re one to judge,” he shot back, “what’re you doing right now?”

“going home. i have a free period!” y/n defended, motioning back to the school building.

“mhm,” stiles nodded, “sure.”

y/n stared at him for a moment. she lifted her phone up, “i just texted you, by the way.”

stiles pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, “oh, oh, here…” he typed out his response, and clicked send, proudly.

y/n smiled appreciatively, “i’m eager to hear your response to my riveting question. anyways, if you’re gonna skip class, do you think it’s a good idea to hang out in the parking lot?”

stiles leaned against the car beside y/n, “oh, probably not.” he looked like there was something else going on, and there was. y/n just didn’t know about all of the supernatural threats surrounding the school on any given basis. “but, i saw you and wanted to ask…”

“what’s up?” she stood up, eager.

stiles rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick, y/n noticed. “are you free tomorrow night?”

y/n nodded, probably too quick to respond, “yeah, absolutely.”

“okay, cool,” stiles pursed his lips. a beat of silence passed, and y/n tilted her head, encouraging him to continue. “oh, well, maybe i can finally meet your dog?”

“smooth,” y/n poked his shoulder, “text me when you’re leaving school. i’ll send you my address.”

stiles grinned, “really? cool, cool. i’ll- see you then.”

y/n climbed into her car, and stiles closed the driver’s door for her. she waved before pulling out of the parking lot.

stiles fist pumped the air.

he met back up with scott, allison, and isaac by his jeep. they were skipping class because the alpha pack in town was causing a load of harmful trouble. just another chapter in the book of the supernatural.

“what was that about?” scott asked, secretly for his friend.

stiles, pretending to be casual about the situation, placed his hands on his hips, shrugged. “nah, nothing. just made plans to chill tomorrow night. no big deal.”

scott didn’t want to pressure his friend. he simply nodded, smiling kindly. “sounds good.”

stiles shrugged, again, though scott could see right through him.

he could see right through his sarcastic, solid exterior, straight to the scared teenage boy with the giant heart he wore just under his sleeve.

and he knew, already, things were gonna get messy.

–

y/n took an everything shower when she got home at her free period. and, by everything- she did everything. shaved, exfoliated, scrubbed every pore on her skin, wrapped her body in masks, conditioners, body washes, hair treatments, a teeth whitening kit. everything.

she tried to present her makeup and hair casually, but y/n still put enough effort into both to make herself look better than average. she was dressed and ready to go as soon as stiles messaged her that he was leaving school. she replied with her address, and proceeded to pace the length of the front room of her house until he arrived.

y/n’s dog started barking, in response to a short knock from the front door. she shushed winnie, who was up in arms about the person outside; ears perked up, eyes alert. all german Shepard, guard dog-esque. y/n patted winnie’s head, calming her slightly, before unlocking and opening the door.

stiles stood there, posture hunched slightly, in jeans and his usual t-shirt combo. his palm was cupped in front of his mouth, as though he was smelling his breath. he met y/n’s eyes, coughed awkwardly, and quickly wiped his hands on his thighs.

“oh,” he cleared his throat, again, “sorry. uh- hi. sorry. just- smelling my breath!” stiles cringed at his own words and glanced at his feet. he scratched the back of his neck.

y/n giggled, “oh, my goodness. just come in.”

she stepped aside, motioning him into the house. winnie took this moment to run up to stiles, panting like she’d run a marathon. stiles responded with excitement, ushering the old girl inside while patting her fur and gushing with baby talk.

“oh, you’re so cute- oh, yes you are, yes, you are. you are gorgeous, sweet girl,” stiles crouched to winnie’s level. “this is winnie, right?”

y/n nodded appreciatively. he listened to her when she talked. “yep. she’s very happy to meet you.”

“i’m very happy to meet her- oh, yes, i am!” stiles accepted the kisses winnie offered.

“now you’re breath might smell!” y/n laughed, gently pushing winnie’s face from stiles’ mouth.

stiles stood back up straight, though winnie continued to nudge him with her snout.

“you can take your shoes off,” y/n instructed. stiles followed suit, kicking his converse off towards the side, with the other shoes.

stiles moved further into the house, peering around the corner, into the living room, then on the other side, into the kitchen. “are…your parents home?”

y/n met his eyes and smiled gently. “no,” she shook her head. “they’re out of town this week.”

“so, you’re all alone? in this giant house?” stiles walked through the kitchen. outside the big picture windows was nothing but woods. she lived only a few minutes from school, but, “in the middle of…nowhere?”

y/n giggled, again, looking out the window, too, “yeah. i used to be scared, but you get over it. they’re out of town a lot.”

she didn’t know why stiles became worrisome. she didn’t really notice the creases deepen in his forehead, or the constant thought that would now exist in his mind. she didn’t know about the supernatural. she didn’t know of the massive threat looming right over her throat every single day.

“that’s…” stiles met her eye. she frowned slightly because he looked freaked out. he covered up his concern, “you should throw a party. yeah, that would be sick.“

she shrugged, “yeah, maybe. i don’t know, that’s a lot of work. i’d be stressed the whole time. wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself cause i’d be worried about people fucking up the house.

“well, that’s why you have me. i can co-host. we can worry together,” stiles nudged her with his elbow.

she looked up at him, shoulder brushing his, goofy grin on her face. “okay, yeah…i’ll take you up on that offer sometime. maybe next weekend. after the game?”

stiles gave her a thumbs up, “nothing better than getting shit faced after being hit with lacrosse sticks for three hours.”

y/n laughed, loudly. she wrapped her hand around stiles shoulder, leaning in as the noise rang from her throat. people were usually sick of his sarcasm after being around him longer than 24 hours. she seemed ever-appreciative of it. his bareskin tingled beneath her fingers. he sweat a little, breathed a little heavier.

feeling no sense of self control, stiles grabbed her by the hips, pushed his lips up against hers. he pressed her back up against the kitchen island, nearly tossing them both to the floor from his rush. she yelped, slightly. but she managed to balance herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and wrapped her fingers up in his hair.

they continued moving against each other, lips sloppy together. stiles had little to no experience, save for the few times he had made out with a girl. but, his expertise ended there. he’d, obviously, read- watched- a lot about that. there were a few tricks he’d been keeping up his sleeve. and this was finally his moment.

he situated his hands back on her hips, as they’d wandered up her torso. using all of his strength, stiles lifted y/n up onto the kitchen counter. she gasped, surprised by his muscle. she met his eyes, pupils blown out, mouth swollen, hair in disarray. once she was situated on top, stiles moved back in for her lips.

y/n fought the smile crawling out of her mouth. she focused on his shoulders, his arms, his chest. she reached the bottom of his shirt and began to slowly, painfully, pull it over his head. stiles quickly helped her toss it across the kitchen.

his lips aimed for her, but she took the upper-hand by steadying his shoulders. she first kissed the nape of his neck, which caused his breathing to completely shorten. she smiled as she felt his heart thump against his throat. as y/n nipped her way up and down his neck, rolled his ear lobe between her teeth, stiles moved his hands back to her body.

every once and a while, he’d shudder under her touch, let out a little breathless moan. at the same time, his fingers would clench whatever piece of skin he was touching. at first, her hips, then her sides, then her breasts. she moaned at this accidental movement, and stiles smiled to himself.

stiles gently pulled her shirt up and off. she dropped her head back to his neck, intending to continue her battle there. but, stiles cupped either one of her breasts in his hand, gently squeezing again. he felt goosebumps tickle all up and down her skin, and saw them rise on the curve of her breasts. he didn’t know where his confidence was coming from, but he leaned forward, and kissed the hills on her skin.

y/n’s forehead dropped to stiles’ shoulder, sweet sounds escaping her lips. he delicately swept his fingers around the edge of her bra, to the back, where the clasp was. before he could try to undo it, y/n pulled back. the way she looked at him- stiles swore he could fall apart from that gaze.

“as much as i’m enjoying this, i’d rather not fuck on my kitchen counter,” y/n steadied her hands on his shoulders.

stiles grinned, stepped back, helped her land on the floor, on her feet. before she could move past him, stiles dipped his head low, grabbed her jaw between his hand, and kissed her fiercely. y/n’s knees knocked together.

and she led him to her room.

when he left, y/n showered, again. she was sweaty, and he lingered on her skin like frostbite. showers always made her feelings irrepressible, like they were being sucked out of her lungs by the water.

she cried.

and it wasn’t befause stiles was terrible at sex. no, he was good. he’d made her feel good. he drew movement from her she didn’t know was possible.

it was everything else.

it was sam. it was the endless summer she had felt come to a stubborn, painful close. it was the ugly feeling he had left lingering on her skin.

she didn’t she’d ever get over it- him. he’d be etched into her like stretch marks. he pulled her apart, stretched her thin, and punched holes everywhere he could. left a brutal, bruising mark.

all because he was too scared to try.

she wanted to call danny afterwards, to tell him all about. to ask for solace from him in her confusing heartbreak. but, it felt too burdening.

stiles texted her when he got home, shortly after she got out of the shower. she thanked him, she didn’t know why, but she thanked him. she was grateful. he made her feel worthy. hell, he’d spent half the time in her sheets worshipping and praising her body, her lips, at her hips like an altar.

it was almost overwhelming. but it felt good. he felt good. everywhere.

he thanked her back with some witty, thoughtful message. she wanted to text back, but a conversation felt like too much right now. she needed to rest her weary heart.

besides, this was all casual…right? she wasn’t obligated to text him back. it didn’t matter if she did. she didn’t care if she did.

right?

–

“and then what happened?” danny slammed his hands down on the table between them, leaning his face close to y/n’s.

the smack of his palms resounded throughout the library, garnering hushes from the independent study instructor, and glares from the other students. y/n looked around, embarrassed, before shoving danny’s face away with her own hand.

“shut up!” y/n shushed him herself. “don’t have to tell the whole school how i fucked stiles stilinksi!”

she said it in a whisper, but danny still heard it. he cheered, loudly, jumping up and out of his seat. y/n stood, too, grabbing his biceps and trying to calm him down. she shot apologetic glances to her fellow classmates. coach blew his whistle, causing danny and y/n to whip their heads his way.

“that’s it! if you can’t study independently, you can’t study at all! get out, go home, go to the alley by the gas station and buy drugs, i don’t care! just don’t stay here!”

he ushered them out the door, and they barely managed to grab their things before the library was shut tightly behind them. y/n smacked danny across the chest, but he barely winced.

she pumped her legs, hard, moving down the hall away from him. danny followed, quick, singing, “she just had sex! y/n finally had sex!”

stopped at her locker, y/n rolled her eyes, and tried to quiet danny down. “literally- danny! i won’t tell you anything if you don’t shut the fuck up! please!”

danny groaned and leaned up against the locker. nevertheless, he shut the fuck up. “please tell me more before i combust!”

y/n waved him off as she shoved some books into her locker. “we had sex. it was good- like, really, weirdly, mysteriously good.” she emphasized the word, shooting danny a confused look.

his jaw was dropped, “be for real. right now. no way- stilinksi? stiles stilinksi?”

y/n nodded with a look of surprised assurance. “i know. and- like, sure, he’s not at all experienced. but, he somehow knew what to do. plus- oh, my god…” y/n trailed off, gesturing to the floor with head, her eyes widened.

danny’s mouth opened further, if at all possible, “no fucking way! no way. i refuse to- how big?”

he put his hands out beside each other in the air, about three inches apart. y/n shook her head, offended. he opened the space further, until y/n nodded, smirking.

danny slapped a palm over his mouth, “holy fuck! stiles stilinksi-“ he said, shocked, before he repeated, “stiles stilinksi,” impressed.

“i know,” y/n shrugged. she shut her locker.

danny began walking towards the exit, y/n falling in step beside him. “you lucky bitch. so, do you think it’ll be a regular thing? are you gonna do it- him- again?”

danny held the door open for her. she stepped through with a shrug. “i would fucking love to. but, i don’t know. he hasn’t said anything since. we’ve just been texting about other shit.”

“like, what?” danny inquired.

y/n pulled out her phone, where a fresh, unread text from stiles sat patient. “like, right now, we’re discussing his favorite band. music, in general, i guess.”

danny scoffed, “be for real.”

“bitch,” y/n shoved him, “what?”

“discussing music,” he tsked his tongue. “that’s how it always starts. before you know it, you’re married in the burbs with a baby and a dog.”

“shut up,” y/n shoved her phone back into her pocket, self conscious about responding, now. “you know i don’t want that. i’m not interested in dating. i’m moving away in less than a year and- and…”

she trailed off, but danny knew what her distant look meant. “sam,” he filled in the gap. “i know,” he touched her arm lovingly.

y/n looked up at him with her sad, puppy dog eyes. “fucking- ugh. i hate him.”

“i know, babe,” danny comforted. “at least you don’t have to see him. at least he’s off at college.”

“it’s sad, though,” she opened her car door and dumped her backpack inside. leaned up against the side of the vehicle, she elaborated, “i saw him almost every single day, over the summer. and then he just- i don’t know.”

“tells you he loves you while breaking up with you? i do know. he’s a fucking pussy. and you deserve better. he was manipulative as fuck, anyways,” danny waved off the issue at hand. “i don’t know, just…i don’t know. stiles is weird. i don’t really know him that well. he doesn��t seem like he’d fuck you over, but it’s just that tricky line of friends with benefits. it almost always leads to someone getting hurt.”

y/n picked at a piece of dirt on the side of her car, focused on danny’s words. “i think we’re both smart enough that we won’t let that happen. we both know what we want from each other- sex. strictly. nothing else. it’s black and white.”

“oh, love,” danny patted her shoulder, “nothing is ever black and white.”

danny bid farewell, hugging his friend tightly, with a saddened gaze shot her way. she was distant, stuck in her head, thinking over her words.

it didn’t matter. it really didn’t. she didn’t want anything from stiles, but sex. she didn’t want an attachment. so, she simply wouldn’t form one.

it didn’t matter if they were discussing music. it didn’t matter if she knew what made his cheeks crinkle into a smile. it didn’t matter if she was learning his favorite colors depended on the seasons, or that his dad was his role model. it didn’t matter.

she had boundaries, and she could keep them.

she could.

couldn’t she?

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