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Public Relations, Private Feelings: Chapter One (Steve Rogers x Reader)
The Avengers needed strengthened public relations, and you needed a job. When Tony Stark offers a place to live in exchange for positive marketing, you can't say no. Steve Rogers seems to want to resist your work, but can you warm him up to the idea of PR, and even more?
A/N: After a long break, I chose to return. Life has been insane and I've missed having an engaging creative outlet. Hopefully this isn't too choppy of a chapter for you.
Word Count: 2003
The Avengers needed a rebrand, and they needed it badly.Â
However hard you think marketing a team of superhumans is, times that by a billion. The chaos that comes with telekinetic powers, Norse gods, geniuses, and cracked-up super soldiers genuinely cannot be estimated. An industry that banks on mass casualties and unfortunate events isnât a pretty one. In fact, itâs really intimidating to almost every single marketing firm on the planet.Â
Except mine.Â
New York Ave Advertising stepped up to the challenge. The challenge came with a pretty paycheck, sure, but it was a challenge nonetheless. Within a few weeks, the Avengers as the public knew them were spun on their heads. Iâve never seen a marketing firm work harder to earn that paycheck. PR was improved almost overnight. Brand deals were essentially oozing all over the official Avengers brand-affiliated email. Thor was the new face of Old Spice, and Captain America hasnât held this many babies in his life. Starkâs tech was slipped into educational centers and trade schools to build up young minds. It honestly was pretty impressive, and it blew up all over social media.Â
Thatâs where my job comes in.
One of Mr. Starkâs firm requests was to have some boots on the ground. He wanted a live-in marketing professional to be a consultant for social media. His philosophy was that if someone lived in the tower with the entire team, they would understand the dynamics and personalities of the team. Thus, marketing content and specifically social media content would better reflect the team and, as Mr. Stark puts it, ânot make us feel like cardboardâ. Â
So here I am. Moving boxes into a building that feels way above my pay grade. To be fair, it absolutely is. I guess you could argue itâs a perk of the position, Stark covers my entire rent costs and gives a grocery stipend. I definitely didnât argue against it, suddenly New York City was a lot more livable on my salary.Â
The walls are grey with a modern twang. Almost all of the appliances are a sleek stainless steel. The decor is tasteful, but lacking color. When Ms. Romanoff had given me a tour, she noted how homey everyone makes their room. Itâs a direct foil from the corporate vibe the tower gives off. However, it almost feels like home. The New York Ave office space holds almost the same familiar blandness. The rooms are the people, breathing life into an otherwise dull shared space. I can hear the dull roar of the air conditioning unit, July in New York almost makes me feel like melting. The tank top and shorts I chose for the day still feel like too much. The sweat dripping down my skin almost makes me feel like a popsicle, slowly melting but trying really hard to stay in one chilled piece.
Beyond the white noise, I can hear some deeper voices approaching. I recognize one almost instantly, Stark. Heâs been the Avenger Iâve had almost all coorsspondance with. Before my firm, he handled almost all PR and marketing solo. The task proved to be too much, and his arrogant personality could admit maybe being a easily digestible person was not his strong suit. The other nice sounded familiar, but I canât immediately pin point it. Stark and the mystery voice are bickering, arguing about something being useless. They are slowly getting closer, voices not increasing in volume in a fit of heated conflict but rather proximity.Â
âItâs not useless, Steve. Theyâve already saved us this much,â Tony sighs. The two male voices turn the round hallway, making their way into my view. The other, more exasperated voice, was none other than Steve Rogers.Â
Steve sighs, almost harder than Tony. His arms are crossed across his chest, his compression shirt nearly strangling the manâs large muscles. âItâs not about useless, itâs the bigger picture. Tony, the Avengers is a team, you know this. Bringing in some stranger from some business youâre familiar with is not the same,â The solider says.Â
So theyâre arguing about our firm. That feels like a warm welcome to their new roommate. Tony looks up from his feet, obviously noticing me. His face looks tired, worn. Yet, he still gives me a warm smile and a wave. His eyebrows raise with a sudden opportunity, âSteve, how can you look at this gorgeous girl here and not already consider her part of the team!â
Steveâs face stays cold, âBecause sheâs not.â
Suddenly, my warmth is cooled with the stone-cold demeanor Steve is putting on. âSteve, nice to meet you. Iâm happy to live in with the team and get to learn more about how you guys operate!â I say with a smile. Is Captain America trashing my work in front of me? Yes. Am I going to show him that it bothers me? Absolutely not. My work is something I am most proud of, that should be a point of relation for us. I understand heâs from a different time, but that doesnât give him permission to diminish my work. Iâm good at what I do, and donât shy away from that fact. I stick out my hand for a handshake, one he almost lazily gives. Geez, the imagery of America has a sloppy handshake. Who would have thought?
I eventually allow the men to get back to their bickering. The time lost on conversation would need to go to unpacking. Every time Iâve moved, Iâm always shocked at how much stuff I have. I can never play the mental tetris required to figure out where every single poster, trinket, and photo should go. However, as I look at my room, I donât think that will be an issue. Stark spared no expense when it came to living quarters. This bedroom alone is probably bigger than the entirety of my last apartment, leaky closet and all.Â
As the hot day turns into a chilly, summer evening, I find myself in the main board room of the business floor. Iâm surrounded by all of the Avengers who live in the tower: Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Thor, Sam, and Wanda. We agreed as a team to skip formal attire, opting in for pajamas due to the late meeting.Â
The set up of the room is almost intimidating, the frosted glass walls and large cedar table are the only personality the room has to offer. Additionally, the attitude of almost all the team members contributes to the vibe of the space. Itâs no question that being in that room felt like I was somehow in trouble at school. The only difference is that instead of being called to the principalâs office, Iâm sitting in front of a red haired assassin and expert military operatives.Â
This is normal.
âAlright guys,â Tony breaks the silence, everyone turning to look at him. âAs youâve been briefed, we now have a live-in marketing individual. Our team has gained a questionable reputation and Iâm trying my best to turn that around before it bites us in the ass,â. Natasha bites down a smile, looking at me with tired eyes. When we had first met, she was telling me how in-over his head Tony was. No matter how âin controlâ he tried to appear, it was a failing performance. âI worked tirelessly to find someone who would represent us positively and with grace. She didnât have to take this gig, but she did. She deserves respect and cooperation,â.Â
I can almost feel how disruptive and intentional Steveâs eyeroll is.Â
âWelcome! Iâm excited to finally have someone to take something off of Tin Manâs plate,â Sam announced with a smile. Although I hadnât had formal introductions, he had left a small welcome basket outside my door. It was definitely constructed by a man, however the thought was there.Â
I smile at him, âThank you Sam! Iâm really happy to join you all here. I will try to be as non-disruptive as my position will possibly allow. Iâm hoping the more comfortable you get with me, the more personality our work will reflect!â All the team looked at me attentively, smiling and nodding as I spoke. Steve, although looking bored, at least didnât appear glaringly hateful at my proposal. âIâm hoping this week, even within the next two days, to set up one-on-one meetings with you all. I want to get to know all of you personally. Although Iâm an asset to the team, Iâd also to like to build rapport and a friendship.âÂ
The rest of the meeting went on about as good as it couldâve. I presented marketing topics and briefed all the global heroes on what they can do for themselves to increase a positive image. Natasha took notes, which I appreciated. Bucky and Sam shared occasional whispers, and glanced looks. It wasnât distracting, but noticeable. At the conclusion of the meeting, after some subtle side remarks, many people said goodnight and soon left. Tony had hung back to thank me again for my flexibility and utter willingness to go along with their circus.Â
As I gather my papers and presentation supplies, I notice one Avenger hangs back, Rogers. The gym shorts and grey tee shirt he wears almost made him blend into the boring briefing room. He looks stoic, yet still wears that pensive and neutral look on his perfectly carved face.Â
âI was wondering if I could get my individual meeting out of the way, now.â Steve states, his hands folded on the light brown table.Â
âOf course, Iâm happy to do that if you are. Forgive my unorganized mindset, I wasnât expecting to immediately do one. I just have a few questions to ask you, personal and professional.âÂ
His brows furrow, almost out of frustration. âGreat, because I have one for you.â I raise my brow, encouraging him to continue on with his thought. âWhat exactly is your purpose here? Weâre human yaâ know. To some people, weâre a public spectacle or freaks of nature. But Iâll tell you one thing Iâm not, a product. Iâm not here to be bought or sold.â
I grimmace at his blunt comment. I understand Captain America has unwavering confidence and authority, but damn.
âWith all due respect, Mr. Rogers, but that is not what Iâm here to do. My job is to sell the public on what theyâre unsure of. Itâs hard to trust a hero with an intergalactic disaster when you know nothing about him.â
Steve rolls his eyes, the body language staple rapidly becoming overused, âThe public knows plenty about me, maâam.â
âThen why donât they trust you?â I blurt out. I understand itâs an expectation to remain as professional as possible. Under any other circumstances, this would be completely achievable. But it is insulting having such a once-respected historical figure bark questions about my careerâs intentions and integrity. An off day, I understand. Consistent disrespect will eventually be matched.Â
âWe donât need publicity, we do whatâs right.â Steve straightens up, the grey tee constricting against his body. Although you canât excuse disrespect, you have to appreciate the physical specimen heâs become. Your professionalism will never allow him to know that, though. âI think weâre done here.â
âI think so too,â I say as I continue gathering all of my presentation assets. Steve quickly rises, reaching for the glass door. Although Iâm angry, I refuse to let my professionalism falter once more, âHave a good night, Mr. Rogers.â I received a grunt in response, which is about all I had been expecting in the first place.Â
The quiet after the super soldierâs departure feels tense. The questioning of your workâs purpose and integrity wasnât new; you were used to it. Itâs almost a daily occurrence for people to write off marketing as easy or unnecessary for things beyond superficial products.Â
There is one thing youâre sure of: youâre not letting Captain America question results. He wants to play the tough guy game? Fine. Youâre no stranger to the tough guy game.
đđđđđđđ: Steve Rogers x GN!Reader.
đđđđđđđ: Steve had always been scared of growing old, scared that his best days were behind him. But, when you run your fingers through the greying edges of his hair, he realises that the best days have yet to come.
đđđđđđđđ: Thereâs nothing. This is pure fluff.
đđđđđđ: Fluff 5 â âYouâre going grey, I kind of love itâ.
You do, of course you do. You always notice the little things. The creases in his knuckles from holding himself too tightly during meetings. The tiny scar under his jaw that he never talks about. The way his eyes soften just a little every time he sees you first thing in the morning. You know his face like a story youâve read a hundred times.
So, the grey stands out.
Itâs not even much. A whisper of silver at his temples, just above the ears. It catches the light when he turns his head too quickly. Subtle. Almost charmingly unfair, how even ageing seems to suit him. You watch him for a while across the kitchen one morning, his back turned, sleeves rolled, hands working quietly to press coffee grounds into a French press. Thatâs when you notice it again, the faint shine of grey in the morning sun. And something in your chest tugs.
You love him. That much is easy.
Loving Steve Rogers is like standing in the sun, steady, unwavering, quietly powerful. It isnât always simple, though. He carries too much, too quietly. Sometimes he forgets heâs allowed to be soft. He forgets he doesnât have to be Captain America with you. Only Steve.
You lean against the doorway, arms crossed. âYouâre going grey.â
He pauses, coffee halfway poured, and glances at you over his shoulder. âYou say that like itâs a bad thing.â
Thereâs a beat where his expression doesnât change. He studies you, almost too carefully, like heâs trying to find out if you mean it. You know that look. Youâve seen it a thousand times. Heâs not vain, not even close, but he worries in his own quiet way. Worries heâs missed too much, wasted too much time. Worries youâll wake up one day and realise the past has aged him in ways you havenât noticed yet.
âI kind of love it,â you say, voice softer now.
Steveâs eyes linger on yours a second longer than they need to. Then the corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile yet, but close. He sets the mug down. Walks towards you like heâs considering something.
You donât move. Let him come to you. He stops a little too close, close enough to smell the coffee on his skin and the faint scent of your shampoo from the night before still clinging to the collar of his sweatshirt. His hand finds your waist. Yours go to his chest like they belong there.
âYou mean that?â he asks, like he needs to hear it again.
Your thumb brushes the soft cotton over his heart. âI mean it.â
âI feel old,â he admits.
âYou are old. Very old.â
That earns you a quiet laugh. His head drops forward, his forehead brushing yours. âThanks for that.â
âYouâre welcome.â You wrap your arms loosely around his middle, resting your cheek against his shoulder. âYouâre also stupidly handsome, aggravatingly kind, and built like a sculpture, so if you think a few grey hairs are gonna scare me off, youâre delusional.â
His hand smooths down your back, settling at the small of it. âI didnât say I was scared.â
âYou didnât have to.â
You feel him exhale. His breath is warm against your hair.
Itâs always like this, with him, love held in actions rather than declarations. A pressed kiss to your hairline. A hand lingering at the small of your back when crossing the street. A wordless glance across a crowded room. You know he loves you, in the quiet, devoted way that he loves all things, deeply, and without asking for much in return.
Still, there are parts of him you wish he didnât keep so buried.
âI think it suits you,â you murmur. âThe grey. It makes you look⊠lived-in.â
He snorts. âThanks again.â
âNo, I mean it. Youâre not twenty. Youâve survived things. Seen more than most people could imagine. Itâs written on you. And I think thereâs something beautiful about that.â
When he pulls back, thereâs something unreadable in his face. His hand lifts to your jaw, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone. You donât speak. Let him look. Let him think.
âYou always know what to say,â he murmurs. âItâs annoying.â
âI know.â
He kisses you then. Not rushed, not slow either, just real. Familiar. Like the comfort of your shared bed after a long day. Like the hush of midnight when the world outside is too loud. You kiss him back, threading your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the strands slip between your fingers.
When he pulls back, you let your hand drift to the silver at his temple.
âI mean it,â you say again. âI really do love it.â
Something in his posture shifts. Like he lets himself believe you this time.
He presses another kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then finally your forehead. âYouâre biased.â
âUtterly.â
The grey spreads, slowly.
You notice it more when youâre lying beside Steve, tracing your fingers through his hair absently while he talks about something in that low, thoughtful voice. It suits him, like you said. Heâs softened into himself over the last few years, less rigid, more at ease. The pressure of the shield is gone now, some given to Sam, some tucked away in museum glass or behind classified files. He still trains, still helps where he can, but itâs not the same. He lives now.
You see it in the way he sleeps in more. The way he reads on the porch, half-glasses perched low on his nose, feet up. The way he looks at you like heâs memorising every second.
Sometimes, it still hits you. That you get this version of him. The one who gets to stay. To grow old. He never expected that.
One night, months later, youâre curled into his side on the sofa. Thereâs a film playing, but neither of you are really watching it. His arm is around you, thumb tracing the rhythm of his thoughts against your arm. You glance up. The light from the TV flickers against his face, silver catching again in his hair.
âDo you still feel old?â you ask softly.
He doesnât answer immediately. His gaze lingers on the screen, even though youâre sure he hasnât registered a frame in the last hour.
âSometimes,â he admits. âNot in a bad way. Just⊠itâs different.â
âDo you mind it?â
âI used to. Thought Iâd lost too much time to earn it. NowâŠâ He looks down at you. His thumb stills. âNow it feels like something Iâm allowed.â
You reach up, touch the grey again. He leans into your hand like itâs second nature. It is, now.
âYou more than earned it, Steve.â
He kisses the inside of your wrist. âIâm lucky you think so.â
Thereâs more you want to say, about the life youâve built, the ordinary routines that feel extraordinary because they include him. The way you catch him looking at you when he thinks youâre not paying attention, like heâs still trying to believe itâs real. You want to tell him that heâs beautiful in ways that have nothing to do with the way he looks. That time hasnât taken anything from him that you care about.
Instead, you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Let your thumb graze the corner of his mouth.
âYouâre going grey,â you whisper again. âAnd I still kind of love it.â
This time, he smiles fully. âGood.â
He kisses you, slower this time. Drawn out. Tasting of love, of time shared, of mornings still to come.
Summary: You're super talkative and your fellow agents tease you, but you don't care. You always chat up the quiet hunky super soldier who always manages to spend some time around you. One day when you can't talk due to an illness, Bucky gets concerned and seeks you out to make sure you're ok. He ends up talking to you for once.
Content warnings: Mild language (if any), fellow co-workers are mean to reader but they don't let that bother them, sweet Bucky, fluff.
Image found here
"Hey Bucky!" you waved at the imposing figure who stood in your office. He smiled and nodded while he grabbed a file from your co-worker.Â
"How's it going today?"Â
"Good."Â
"Ooh, look at my plant, isn't it cute!" You pointed to your little succulent on your desk that sat in a small pot you got from a market.Â
The pot said, "feeling cute, might die later" and it made you giggle when you bought it.Â
Bucky wandered over and smiled at it.Â
"So, got anything fun planned tonight?" you asked.Â
He shrugged his shoulders.Â
"I'm headed to the common room for open mic night here. Some of the agents think they're hilarious so I'm going to heckle them if they're not. You should come." You smiled.Â
He gave you a polite shrug then left.Â
"I don't know why you keep talking to him. He's not interested and could care less about you and what you do. He only walks up to you to be nice." Your co-worker and fellow agent Sara glared at you.Â
You shrugged. You weren't going to let her rudeness get to you. Not today.Â
"I know. But I like to think he listens to me" you shrugged.Â
"He'd never be interested in you" she scoffed.Â
You shrunk in your seat. You knew that it just hurt when someone else pointed that out. Whatever. You went back to your reports and smiled to yourself, glad you got to see Bucky.
You were a naturally talkative and bubbly person. Always positive and looked at the bright side of things. You constantly got into trouble with your teachers in school since they thought you were such a distraction to the other students. Your parents had a hard time dealing with you because you were so curious and outgoing. You'd approach anyone and have a full-blown conversation with them about whatever topic came to mind and you loved it. You were always so curious with what people's opinions were on things and you'd listen to them, putting your two cents in and you loved it.Â
Your grandma always said you had the gift of gab, and you should use your voice for good, so you became a communications specialist with SHIELD. You would be a liaison between SHIELD and the press/media in your early days and you enjoyed every minute of it, but it didn't challenge you enough. Plus, you had to be on call all the time in case a member of the media or press had any questions or needed more information. You hated being woken up at 3am by the French media or having to work until 1am to speak with someone on the other side of the world. You liked your sleep too much.Â
 You then moved to their archives and records department where you are now and haven't looked back. You still get to chat lots, but this time, you get to chat with the Avengers in person, still do office work, and be done at a reasonable hour, so you can't complain.
The following morning, you were working away on one of the last mission reports when you had to clarify something that happened. You looked at the name on the report and it was Sam Wilson. You found the Avengers schedule and saw Sam would be in a meeting room, so you wandered over to the conference rooms. Sure enough, he sat around the table and was chatting with Steve.Â
"Um, hello?" you knocked on the door.Â
"Agent Y/l/n." Sam smiled.Â
"Hi Sam. I had a question on your last report" you showed him your tablet.Â
"Uh oh, you're in trouble." Steve smirked then he left the room.Â
You waved at Steve when you saw Bucky behind him.Â
"Hi Bucky."
You smiled. He nodded and looked down at his feet.Â
"Sam, line 40 doesn't make sense, can you clarify?" you pointed to your tablet he held.Â
"Sure." He tapped on the screen, and you turned to Bucky.Â
"Nice day out there. I think I'll head out after and get some ice cream." you smiled.Â
Bucky nodded and looked over at Sam.Â
"Here you go."Â
Sam handed you the tablet and you looked at the revised line.Â
"Thanks Sam. See you later. Bye Bucky!" you left.Â
Sam glared at Bucky.Â
"What?" he asked.Â
"That agent practically spoon fed you an easy date and you just stood there like a lump." Sam scoffed.Â
"What? What do you mean? Agent Y/l/n is always talking to me, telling me things" Bucky shrugged.Â
"She's into you man" Sam got up from his spot.Â
"She's just being nice. She's very talkative."Â
"Sure she is" Sam rolled his eyes and walked out, leaving Bucky alone.
Bucky's known you for almost a year. You always stop and talk to him and ask about his day. He knows a lot about you from the brief interactions you've had. He knows your favourite colour, how you take you coffee, your favourite animal, movie, music, and what you like to do to relax. That's just from the small bits and pieces of what you've told him in your brief interactions. Were you interested in him?Â
He thought you were cute, pretty even in a natural and simple way. He was shy when he first arrived, and you were the first agent outside of the Avengers to talk with him. You found him one day sitting on a bench in the sun. You sat and joined him while you ate your lunch, completely relaxed and open around him. You told him where you were from and about how much you liked sitting on benches and people watching when you were in the city. Bucky had no idea how to react to you since he was shocked someone paid any attention to him outside of the team.Â
Usually, other agents would see him and walk the other way, or avoid him altogether, but you didn't seem to mind being close by. He later found out you were in the archives and reporting division and would input all mission reports so there were times you had to chat with him if you had to clarify something. He didn't say much to your talking, but he always looked forward to seeing you if he was called to your office to drop off a report or pick one up. He felt bad he never really answered you, but you didn't seem to mind or care if he talked back. He liked that about you.Â
Since being back from Wakanda, he found himself more of an observer than a leader and he's just fine with that. He thinks some of the things you tell him are funny and weird, but he likes listening to your thoughts and opinions on a lot of things. He thought about it some more and he looks forward to hearing you talk to him, it makes him feel special, normal almost and considers it a good day if he runs into you.
"Hey Bucky!" you waved at him from your desk.Â
It had been a few days since you saw him, and he looked over at you and smiled while he dropped off a folder. Sara rolled her eyes at you, but you ignored her.Â
"Going to be a nice day out there" you said, then coughed into your arm.Â
You had been dealing with a bit of a tickle in your throat lately and feared you were coming down with something.Â
Great.Â
Bucky walked over to your desk and peeked out the window. He liked you had a window in your office you could look out from since he knows you like the scenery at the compound. You told him last fall about how much you like seeing the changing leaves.Â
"Don't get him sick" Sara scolded you.Â
She had lined up a bunch of cleaning wipes and aerosol sprays to keep your germs on your side of the office. Bucky looked at you and you felt sheepish under his gaze.Â
"I think I'm getting a little cold, nothing major as I feel fine, but my throat is a little sore." you admitted.Â
"So, stay away from here if you don't want to get sick." Sara glanced at Bucky.Â
Bucky shot her a scowl she didn't see since she turned her back to get something from the printer.Â
"Yeah Bucky. I don't want to get you sick. I'll probably work from my room tomorrow if I feel any worse."Â
"Please do so." Sara scowled at you.Â
"Anyways, have a nice day." you waved, and Bucky nodded then he left.Â
"Pathetic." Sara muttered.Â
On a normal day, you would have sassed her, but since you were feeling a little run down, you didn't have the energy to, so you put your head down and finished inputting the reports that were on your desk.
Just as you thought, the following day your throat felt like it was on fire, so you stayed in your room. The rest of you felt fine, no aches or chills, but your throat felt like 1000 knives were stabbing it.Â
"Great" you croaked out while you got dressed. You shuffled to the kitchen and got some tea and toast, then headed back to your room to your desk so you could work for a few hours.
After lunch, you went to the medical bay to get checked out. You wanted to see if you had anything that was contagious, but it turns out, just a case of laryngitis that wasn't infected, so you just had to rest your vocal cords, drink plenty of fluids, and relax. Great. No talking to Bucky for at least a week, maybe two.Â
Oh well.Â
You headed back to your room and flopped on your bed, feeling a little down you're sick. Your thoughts then started running and perhaps Sara was right. It's been well over a year and all you do is talk and talk to Bucky, but he never really talks back apart from a hello or goodbye. He's probably tired of you and is just being nice and doesn't want to tell you to stop. Perhaps you should pull back a little and let him be. What were you thinking blurting out random things to the poor man! God, you felt like an idiot.
The next few days were the same. You got the reports dropped off at your room so you could work from there and not be around too many people to tempt you into talking. That would worsen your throat, so you opted to stay isolated. The sooner you could get back to normal, the better. You weren't made to isolate! Your throat was still sore, so you were drinking lots of tea and relaxing in the evenings.
Meanwhile, Bucky hadn't seen you for a few days and had no idea where you were. He was getting worried since he hadn't run into you, and he missed your chats. Even though he didn't say much, you seemed to be the highlight of his day. He asked Sam where you were, and all Sam did was tease him. Steve was out on a mission with Nat and Wanda wasn't around and asking Tony wasn't an option. He wasn't sure where to look for you. He wandered the compound tracing back his steps where he had seen you.Â
The bench you met him on, the gym, the lounge and kitchen, you were nowhere. He had an idea of where your dorm was, but he didn't really feel like he should just show up. Would you like that? He didn't feel like going to your office since he would more than likely run into your co-worker whom he hates with a passion since he thinks she's mean to you. He'd rather cut his fingers off than have a conversation with her, so he continued searching around the compound for you.
You were finally feeling a little better, able to say a few things in your raspy voice. The doctors looked again and said you were on the mend, so you decided to take the day off and relax before you went back to work the following day. You headed outside to catch some sun, so you made yourself a little picnic. You grabbed a blanket, some snacks, water, and headed out to the lawn to find some quiet. You snorted thinking you were trying to find some quiet since you were the one most likely making noise by talking.
You wandered to an area of large trees and set up your blanket and snacks before you flopped down. You relaxed and opened a book to read, one you had been eyeing up online that came a few days ago. You were into your book when you heard footsteps run up to you on the grass. It was Bucky.Â
"There you are!" his voice was a little frantic and he seemed a little out of breath.Â
You looked at him a little weirdly, but then you smiled. He almost fell over with your smile. Combine your smile with the light, and it looked like an angel was smiling at him. He froze. You stared at him waiting for him to speak. He looked at you and stood there.
"Umm..." He froze like an idiot.Â
Finally, after so long of listening to you, he had planned to talk to you, and he just stood there like a zombie. You pointed to your throat and shook your head no.Â
"Oh, you're sick then?" he asked.Â
You nodded.
"Huh." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck nervously.Â
You gestured to your blanket and smiled at him.Â
"Oh, you want me to sit?" he pointed to it.Â
You nodded yes but shrugged your shoulders as if to say if you want to.Â
He smiled and plopped himself down on your blanket. You placed your book to the side and smiled at him. You offered him some snacks and he grabbed an apple.Â
"Thanks." He bit into it, the juices squirting down his chin, and you giggled making him blush.Â
You ate some crackers and smiled over at Bucky. You were excited to see him but you were bummed you couldn't chat with him.Â
"So, when will you be able to you know..." Bucky pointed to his throat.Â
You shrugged and managed to squeak out "Few more days" before he nodded.Â
You both sat and enjoyed the early spring air and your containers of snacks when Bucky started talking to you. You almost froze you were stunned. He told you his favourite colour, his favourite kind of music, a joke Sam told him. He talked a little about his time in Wakanda, and he told you what his favourite flavour of ice cream is and how he thinks today's movies are weird. You giggled and he smiled at you. He was finally talking to you, and you were thrilled.Â
"So, I was thinking, when you're better, do you maybe want to go out on a date with me? Something casual like getting ice cream or coffee?" he asked.Â
Your mouth fell open and you stared at him. He looked a little scared, like you were going to dump the contents of your snack containers on his head and storm off.Â
You smiled at him and nodded like crazy.Â
He let out a breath and smiled.Â
"Ok, well, when you're better, we'll plan something."Â
You nodded again and patted his knee.
 "Ok."Â
"Ok." you rasped out.Â
He smiled and continued talking and for once, you were happy to listen.
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Summary:Â Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, andâworst of allâa hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.Â
Word count:Â 5.5k
Warnings:Â Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining
a/n:Â My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if youâre still here. Depending on how this does I hope Iâll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)
Masterlist
~~
âWhatâs this punks name again?âÂ
The breath you let out was long and excruciating. âI am not repeating myself.âÂ
âCâmon, y/n,â Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. âHow the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I donât even know the kidâs name?âÂ
âOkay, well, first of allââ the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips ââheâs not a âkidâ. Iâm pretty sure heâs a few months older than you.âÂ
âSemantics.âÂ
âAnd second of all,â you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. âThere will be no âswooping inâ. Iâm going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.âÂ
Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months youâd been living with the hockey playerâwho was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leasedâyouâd learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.Â
There were many other things youâd learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you werenât home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotionâagain, when he thought you werenât home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.Â
He didnât really care if you were home for that last one.Â
Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasnât egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.Â
But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasnât a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your collegeâs hockey team.Â
You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.Â
But youâd be lying if you said things hadnât gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being⊠considerate? You werenât quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.Â
There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.Â
It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasnât fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.Â
âWhat kinda girl comes to a party and doesnât even wanna talk to anyone?âÂ
âYou want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?âÂ
âHey, Iâm talking to you, bitch.âÂ
You werenât even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasnât surprisingâthe line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your collegeâbut the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.
~~
âThere a problem here?â Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.
The man didnât miss a beat. âYeah, you. Move.âÂ
âWanna fucking tell me what to do again?âÂ
âFuck you, man.âÂ
A harsh shove to Buckyâs chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The manâBrian, you had now learned based on screamsâwas pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.Â
And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.
Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.
âBucky?â you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.Â
You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. âAre you okay?âÂ
The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasnât also a cut forming on his brow.Â
âY/n.âÂ
It took you a moment to realize that you hadnât answered him. Your response fell out of you as if youâd been shoved. âIâmâIâm fine.âÂ
He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. âThe fuck was that guy?âÂ
âI donât know,â you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. âHe justââÂ
âWeâre going home.âÂ
âWhat? I canât, Iâm here with Wanda. Iâm driving her, Bucky, I canât just leave.âÂ
He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. âShe left with that British guy sheâs been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.âÂ
That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Buckyâs knuckles. Heâd been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.Â
This was different.Â
âI havenât been drinkingâI can drive myself home. You donât have to leave,â you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.Â
He didnât respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Buckyâs favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now⊠nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.Â
You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadnât told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.
âYou really donât have to leave with me,â you mumbled. âIt wasnât a big deal or anything.âÂ
âIt was a big deal.âÂ
~~
The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.Â
There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.
Buckyâs next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. âWell whereâs this dude taking you at least?â
âIce skating.â
The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Buckyâs next words hardly containing syllables. âHuh?âÂ
âWeâre going ice skating,â you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. âItâs winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.âÂ
âWithout me? Y/n, youâre gonna let some guy who probably doesnât even know how to skateââÂ
âBuckyââ you attempted to interrupt.Â
ââdrag you around the rink like a rag doll?â he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. âIâve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. Youâve never shown any interest.âÂ
You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.Â
A good reason.Â
You didnât date athletes.Â
It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldnât mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.Â
And you didnât date athletes.Â
You did not.Â
You didnât have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasnât a single athlete youâd met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. Youâd learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.Â
The man hadnât even given you the courtesy of pretending he didnât know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.Â
So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.Â
âAre you even listening to me?â Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.Â
You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Buckyâs face. âOf course I am,â you lied. âBut my answer is still the same. Iâm going on my date and you are not going on my date.âÂ
He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPNâtypicalâand you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.Â
âWhen is it?â he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.Â
âTonight,â you answered plainly.Â
The arms atop your legs tensed.Â
~~
The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rinkâs glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.Â
On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldnât stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.
The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.
You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.
âI bet we could do that,â he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. âWe definitely could. I pick up good speed.â
You cringed. âI really donât think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.âÂ
âOh, câmon! I wonât try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.âÂ
âWe are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,â you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.Â
Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.Â
Definitely not.Â
âIâm not going to let my date think Iâm boring,â Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.Â
You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldnât even hear you.Â
On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.
âMaybe we should just watch them do it,â you tried, words wavering.Â
âNo!â he grinned. âNo, we got this. Itâs gonna look so cool.âÂ
And then you were spinning. Youâd never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.
âOkay, ready?â Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.Â
âWhat?â you yelled.Â
He didnât answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.Â
This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.
âOh shit!â came Seanâs laughter-filled gasp. âMy bad. I really didnât mean to let go.âÂ
You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. âI think⊠I think my armâs broken.âÂ
âWait, seriously?â he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.Â
âYeah, itâsââ
âEverything okay over here?â a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.Â
You recognized himâŠmaybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.Â
Sean answered for you. âYeah, man, weâre fine. She just fell.âÂ
âY/n, are you okay?â the man asked, ignoring your date completely.
âDo I know you?â you slurred.
You thought you heard a curse. âWhat made you think throwing her around was a good idea?âÂ
âDude, it wasnât even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldnât keep her feet under her.âÂ
âWell, dude, maybe you should go home.âÂ
Sean scoffed. âRight, and whoâs going to take this one home?âÂ
Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.Â
âYou want me to call Bucky?â he asked.
Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.
âSteve Rogers?â you mumbled.Â
The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. âIâm calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.âÂ
There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.Â
Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if youâd break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Buckyâs team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.Â
âWhy are you dressed like a construction worker?â you asked.Â
A small smile graced his face. âIâm working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.âÂ
âHmm,â you hummed. âI think my arm is broken.âÂ
âI know. Iâm pretty sure you have a concussion too. Letâs get you off the ice, yeah?âÂ
You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.Â
Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.Â
He cursed again. âWell heâs gonna be pissed.âÂ
âWho?â Your head swayed with the question.Â
Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.Â
âWhat the fuck?â you blurted out.Â
âHey, y/n.â Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldnât see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. âMaybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?âÂ
âSean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,â Steve replied.Â
âWhy are you here?â you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. âI told you not to come on my date.âÂ
Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. âNever really agreed to those terms.âÂ
He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.Â
After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.Â
âOkay, in you go, killer,â Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.Â
You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. âMy arm hurts.âÂ
The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. âI know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. Iâll make sure it doesnât hurt anymore.â
âI should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You donât have to be the one to take me.âÂ
âI can take you just fine.â
âWhy do you want to you? Arenât you busy?âÂ
Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. âGet in the car.â
His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldnât quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.Â
âYouâre being weird,â you commented, breaking the silence you had created.Â
âYou broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,â he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.Â
âYeah, butââÂ
âAnd then that douchebag did nothing about it,â Bucky interrupted. âSo please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know Iâm not above fighting people.âÂ
You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.Â
The drive was quiet. Youâd never been in Buckyâs car before, but the spinning in your head didnât give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.
âHey, this oneâs mine.â You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. âThief.âÂ
Bucky snatched it back. âMine now.âÂ
He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.Â
âSorry, almost there.â A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, âI should keep your hair tie. You wonât be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.âÂ
~~
Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.Â
After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking forâa cupâand continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.Â
âAre you⊠okay?â you asked tentatively.Â
Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. âIâm fine. You are not.âÂ
âIâm okay now,â you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.
You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.Â
âOkay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?â Your words were slow.Â
âYou were just on the ice and havenât had any water for at least three hours.âÂ
âBucky,â you began. âI was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I donât need to replenish my electrolytes.âÂ
âWill you just⊠will you just drink the damn drink?â he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. âJesus, I canât take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?âÂ
âYou donât have to take care of me.â You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.Â
Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation heâd had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.Â
You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.Â
âY/n, I want to take care of you,â Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. âIâve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but youâve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.âÂ
You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you werenât clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.Â
And nothing at the same time.Â
âBuckyâŠâ you began, with a tone of surprise you werenât sure was believable.
âDonât do it yet,â he stopped you. âDonâtâŠdonât tell me no yet. Iâm still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldnât be alone with a concussion. I donât need you avoiding me when you canât even drive a car.âÂ
âYouâre being presumptuous.âÂ
He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didnât say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.Â
âI wouldnât avoid you. I donât know if I could avoid youânot anymore. Youâre sort of a big part of my life now.â A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.Â
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.Â
But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. âI shouldnât have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.âÂ
âI donât want to forget it,â you softly spoke, shaking your head.
He clenched his jaw. âAnd I donât want to hear that you donât feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like Iâm going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girlâthatâs not really my girlâis all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.âÂ
You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. âI mean, y/n, youâre my everyday. I wake up and youâre making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I canât believe there was a time in my life that I didnât get to end my day in a home that has you. And youâre just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get itââ he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, ââbut, shit, I havenât even looked at another girl since⊠well it doesnât even matter.â
âTell me,â you whispered. There were a million other things you couldâve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.Â
And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.
His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, âThat dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldnât watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasnât gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.âÂ
He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. âAt the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I canât⊠I canât really picture that with another girl.âÂ
There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.Â
âYou get why you canât tell me no just yet?â he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. âYou can break my heart, but let me just make sure youâre okay first. And I canât beat the shit out of Sean if we arenât on speaking terms.âÂ
The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Buckyâs and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didnât matter.Â
He didnât respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.Â
The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.
The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.Â
He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. âDidnât think Iâd ever get to do that.âÂ
âYou can do it again.âÂ
âOh, I will, baby.âÂ
Laughter met in the air between youâsweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.Â
âI texted Wanda that night,â you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. âAfter I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.âÂ
He smiled against your skin. âWhatâd you say?âÂ
âI told her I was an idiotâthat I was falling for the enemy.âÂ
Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didnât hit the cabinets.Â
âAnd is that true?âÂ
âI donât know,â you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. âTry to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and weâll see.â
âż â peter parker & pretending youâre seriously injured but itâs just a small paper cut that needs patching up with plasters all a ploy for him to stay longer or to get his attention if heâs been working or studying for too long. he finds out youâre okay so he patches you up with a spiderman themed plaster and lots of kisses. possible tickle fight ensues? thank you for considering <3
doctor pete
summary â you freak peter out to get his attention.
content â peter parker x fem!reader, mentions of injury
You haven't seen Peter in two whole hours. He's studying for a really, super duper, ridiculously important upcoming test - his words not yours - and you want to give him his space.
The problem is, you're a really impatient person. You have an idea, you might end up regretting it, but you miss his face.
"Peter!" you call from the kitchen. You sound horribly worried. Scared almost. "Fuck - Pete, baby!"
You hear his bedroom door slam open and then the thump thump thump of his socked feet running up the hall. He slides into the kitchen and almost falls into the fridge. He's still got his headphones on, the cord dangles at his knees.
"You okay?" he asks, voice all pitched up and frantic, "What happened?"
"I cut myself," you tell him with the tiniest pout on your lips. Dramatic.
You hold your hand out in front of you. There, when Peter squints his superhuman eyes, there's basically a papercut along the pad of your pointer.
Peter lets his shoulders fall, letting out the gasping breath he's just taken. He squeezes his eyes shut and bends in half. "Jesus Christ, baby," he pants.
"What?"
"I thought you'd cut a finger off," he tells you, walking towards you where you're leaning up against the sink. "My senses went crazy. I think my blood went cold."
"Oh, baby," you say sympathetically, reaching your hands up to hold his face, careful where you put your finger. He closes his eyes and leans into your hold. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd freak that much."
"Baby, you sounded horrible," he admits. You can feel his heartbeat where the heel of your hand rests over his neck. It's racing - skipping a few beats. "I don't ever want to hear you like that ever again."
"I'm sorry," you say again. You might be saying it all night.
"It's okay," he says and then kisses your palm. "Let me see, yeah?"
"See what?"
"The cut, lovely," he laughs.
"Oh," you blink, "right."
You let him hold your hand between your bodies, flipping your palm in his shaking hands to inspect the damage. "Oh, no, baby," he says, all faux worried. "That's horrible."
"Pete." He's teasing. You think you deserve it.
"Should I call 911?" he says, frowning, biting his lip to hold back a smile. He'll crack eventually, you know it.
"You reckon?"
"Amputation at best," he snorts. "Don't worry, Doctor Pete can fix you up."
"Thank god," you sigh, then, under your breath, you grumble a, "Doctor Pete." because he's unbelievable.
He moves across the kitchen to grab the first aid box in the cupboard above the fridge and pulls out a box of bandaids. He takes the wrapping off and walks back over, caging you in with his hips against the lip of the bench.
"Here," he says quietly. "This'll fix ya'."
He wraps the bandaid around your finger. It's blue, his vigilante face is plastered all over it. You snort. "My favourite ones."
"A doctor knows what's best," he tells you, smoothing plastic around your finger. He gives it a kiss to make sure.
"I look like such a nerd," you whine to peeve him off.
It works. He pretends to be offended but it doesn't really work. He's cracking the biggest smile because he can never help it around you. "The cutest nerd there is," he says.
His hands are suddenly crawling up your sides. He's not as soft as he usually is. His fingers are pinching, crueller than he is when he wants to hold you to his body. He starts to prod further and it's ticklish.
"Pete," you warn. Your body curves off the sink and he pushes his thumbs into your stomach now you're closer.
"What?" he asks. Smarmy.
He's not secretive about it now. He's tickling you. You try to bend in half, gasping through girlish laughter. He's stronger than you, obviously, and uses his elbows to keep you upright so he has better access to your sides and your back behind your armpits, right in between your ribs where he knows you hate it.
"Stop!" you gasp, "Pete, I'm sorry. Pl- please!"
"That's what you get." He's laughing too. It's horrible how you love the sound of it despite it being at your own expense.
"For what?"
"For scaring me," he tells you. He doubles down when it sounds like you can't breathe.
He lets his hands settle at your hips and you collapse against him, panting into his shirt. "You're horrible."
"It's your fault, babe," he laughs, holding you closer now he knows you can breathe properly.
It is your fault. You'd do it ten times over if it means he'll treat you like this, you think.
The Fire and the Flame - Masterlist (George Weasley x Reader)
Summary: As Quidditch season starts, your schedule gets flooded with Quidditch players who are too busy with their schoolwork. What happens when your newest pupil isnât what you thought he was?
Chapter 1: Tutoring Lesson
-You host a tutoring session with your newest pupil, George Weasley. During the lesson, he questions the subject your tutoring and it creates an interesting dynamic.Â
The Fire and the Flame [1/8]- George Weasley x Reader
âImpossible is in, I donât know if you know that.â
âYouâre impossible, did you know that?â George laughed, standing up and pushing himself out of the ancient wooden chair. As he stood, the chair creaked, even louder when he relieved the back of the wood from his heavy book bag.Â
Summary: As Quidditch season starts, your schedule gets flooded with Quidditch players who are too busy with their schoolwork. What happens when your newest pupil isnât what you thought he was?
A/N: Hi! This is my small dabble back into writing, I really missed it <3
Quidditch season was fun, sure.
The thrill of typically innocent house-to-house competition was thrilling. Everyone rooted for their team, sports lover or not. Some muggleborns compared it to muggle âfutballâ. The constant woosh that Quidditch players made from feet above you, balancing beautifully on their thin broomsticks.Â
What wasnât fun? The influx of students needing to be tutored. Sure, you loved tutoring those in need. Though typically, the students you tutored were having genuine struggles. It was a different kind of magic to watch a subject click for someone struggling. During Quidditch season, it was a different story. Nobody was struggling because they didnât understand why you needed a frog eye for the midnight projection potion. They werenât struggling because they couldnât grasp the certain hand flicks needed for more advanced charms. People were now struggling simply because they were falling behind. This especially happened to the Quidditch players themselves. You honestly canât blame them. Theyâre amazing at a celebrated sport and theyâre committed to something grand! However, itâs frustrating when youâre mandated to tutor them and they act like youâre a burden for being required to. Every single time youâve tried to tutor the star chaser, theyâve given you a sour attitude and made you feel small.Â
Amd now? Youâre stuck in the library waiting for your newest Quidditch star pupil to arrive.
It was almost curfew, but tutors get an excuse as weâre hand selected by the heads of our houses. Pupils gain that advantage too, if they select the late time slot. Although itâs judging a book by its cover, many Quidditch players suspiciously chose this time slot.Â
Quietly, you assemble your Wizardry Poetry textbooks that youâve been studying for the year. Wizardry Poetry is a small, less popular elective. Many people that take the class take it to get out of Snapeâs detentions, as he seems to have a small space in his miniscule heart for her. Nobody calls him out for it, they just quietly take advantage of the crush. Although itâs not the most popular, itâs exciting. In your opinion, poetry is a light shone into a dark corner nobody wants to explore. Poetry is raw emotion, something people typically cower away from at the opportunity. Thatâs what makes wizard poetry so exciting. Many pieces written by the famous wizard poets highlight the balance between dark magic and light. Itâs a weapon used by those already wielding a powerful tool.Â
âErm,â A deep voice suddenly broke the calming silence of the Hogwarts library. âAre you my poetry tutor?â
You picked your head up from your bookbag, noticing the tall Gryffindor beater standing sadly behind the seat across from you. âOh yes! Hi. Feel free to take a seat,â You cringed at the formalities. The pupils youâre used to arenât shy about loudly announcing their presence and obnoxiously filling the small table space. This was new. âGeorge, right?â
He nodded, âHowâd you know?â
You chuckled quietly. âYouâre the quieter of the two.â The boy said nothing in response to this, seemingly validating your point. Although youâre not particularly friends with the 2 boys, you knew them. You were in the same year and had a few classes with the twins. This is how you knew the difference. Both George and Fred were in your potions class. They sat next to each other, to nobodyâs surprise. Fred, who always sat on the left, had a knack for clanging glasses together and making unnecessary comments. Although they were together in that class, you could just tell George was more reserved than his brother. They both laughed together and made jokes, but it was obvious. George was in your Wizardry Poetry class. When itâs just him, his reserved nature becomes a lot more apparent. âSo, if you donât mind me asking, what exactly are you struggling with?â
You knew him in class. He definitely wasnât struggling. He grasped the subject pretty strongly whenever he was called upon to read or make a comment. To an outsider, he mightâve been a poet already.Â
âWell, honestly, Iâm just more busy than anything else. Quidditch is just getting to the exciting part of the season and I have sunrise practices every morning. The teamâs practice schedule is no joke,â he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. âAnd honestly? I think poetry is kind of stupid,â
Stupid?
âPoetry isnât stupid.â
âSure it is,â George said. âItâs boring and tries to be all deep and stuff. Maybe if it took itself a little less seriously Iâd feel the opposite,â
You shouldnât be as offended as you are. You strongly disagreed with him. Poetry was a gorgeous example of literary art. Sure, it can be difficult to scan for meaning and purpose. However, you feel that the payoff of understanding the raw emotion written by an artist. âWhatever you say George, Iâm not here to change your mind, just change your grade. Have you started the assignment she gave us on Tuesday?â
Our poetry teacher assigned us an arguably simple project due at the end of the semester. We were expected to craft a page long piece of poetry about our experiences with magic. She said we had full creative capabilities with our projects, and she wasnât going to judge or grade our topic chosen. She was mostly looking for our understanding of poetry and is expecting us to pull ideas from previous wizard poets.Â
George gently shook his head, the shoulder-length red hair he grew out dancing on his shoulders. âNope,â He popped the âPâ in nope, flashing a cheeky smile.
This was going to be a long few weeks.Â
As George and I reviewed his work and created an academic plan to ensure he doesnât fall behind, it became painfully obvious why George was failing. He grasped the subject with the grip of a giant. Itâs not that he didnât understand stanzas and line numbers. George just didnât have a reason to care. He had no aspiration of ever becoming a poet, and it became noticeable that George only joined the class to get out of Snapeâs detentions. It didnât make sense though. How could he understand so much and just not care? Did he not have a personal connection to the class?
Maybe all he needed was a lifeline.Â
âI think this session was really helpful to you George. Please remember, weâre meeting Thursday at the same time,â
George raised his eyebrows at you, awkwardly grinning. âI might have a surprise Quidditch practice,â
âWhy would you know about it if it was a secret, George?â Was he seriously trying to skip out on our session? You found that the session was something that could strengthen Georgeâs academic record. It also helps that he was someone actually enjoyable to talk to. Who knows, maybe you could even teach him the real magic of poetry while you were at it.
âYouâre impossible, did you know that?â George laughed, standing up and pushing himself out of the ancient wooden chair. As he stood, the chair creaked, even louder when he relieved the back of the wood from his heavy book bag.Â
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Warnings: Draco being an asshole (he breaks up with the reader, makes crude/cruel jokes at George and her), physical violence, slight insinuations to smutÂ
Authorâs Note: HELLOO
If you remember this story you probably read Horrid Ex Boyfriends which I wrote in 2020 but I feel like Iâve grown a lot since then and wanted to take my hand at rewriting some old fics. I loved this one much more in its current form <;3Â
The original request: by anon, Hello love, your pinned post made me all fluffy inside: Iâve dreamed of this story for so long!! Could you do a Draco Malfoyâs Slytherin ex-girlfriend hating the Weasley twins but amidst the break up, finds herself drawn to George and falling for him? Just so you know, I even read the stories about fanbase I do not know because your writing is A+ !!! â€ïž
I donât own these characters. They belong to author/directorÂ
(not my gif)
Draco gave you a look you didnât recognize. You knew his face by now. You knew his expressions better. Dating the Slytherin heir came with its perks but it also came with its downsides, like having to know exactly what he was feeling for the sake of yourself and everyone around you.Â
But this look seemed unfamiliar. You sat together at the table in the Great Hall, across from Goyle and Crabbe. You didnât particularly like either boy but you tolerated them for the sake of Draco.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â you asked, gently, trying to coax out some sort of emotion. His face wiped of any disdain.Â
âNothing,â he snapped. You widened your eyes.Â
âAlright.â You cleared your throat, putting down your fork. âDo you want me to meet you after the Quidditch game tonight?âÂ
âDonât bother,â he said. âI have things to do.âÂ
âOh? What kind of things?â you asked, defensively.Â
âNothing that concerns you.âÂ
âWhat is your problem Malfoy?â There was a loud bout of laughter coming from the Gryffindor table. Your eyes followed the noise, landing on the familiar group of redheads. George Weasleyâs head was resting on the table. He was shaking from laughter. You found yourself longing to know what they were laughing at. They always seemed to be having more fun than you were.Â
âDamn Weasleyâs think theyâre the only people in the world,â Draco grumbled. âDonât they know we can all hear them?âÂ
âYou didnât answer my question,â you pointed out.Â
âWeâll talk later,â he promised, voice sneering. He reminded you of his father then. You had the displeasure of meeting Lucius on multiple occasions and the more you watched Draco grow the more he became like him. Was that his goal all along? Did he strive to be the heir his father wanted him to be? Or did he want to be his own person, more like his mother?Â
You got up from the table and grabbed your bag. If you could sit with the Gryffindors you would, if only to annoy your boyfriend. You left the Great Hall and Draco didnât even bother to watch you go.Â
George did, only because you caught his eye. Dinner wasnât even halfway over. You had a determined look on your face that intrigued him. No matter how much your boyfriend attempted to put the Weasleyâs down, you never were able to join him. You usually stood, a bystander, which implicated you only in your silence.Â
George stood abruptly.Â
âWhere are you going?â Fred questioned, still laughing about the tail end of some other joke.Â
âIâll be right back,â he promised, the light hearted smile never leaving his face. He rushed to the doors, suddenly eager to follow you.Â
The silence outside of the Great Hall was sometimes deafening. It always surprised you when the loud voices became muffled. You never felt more alone than when you were no longer part of Hogwarts student body. You were just a girl inside a large school, far too large for her own good.Â
It was easy to hear that someone had followed you. The door opened, creaking, and the voices were loud once more for just a moment. You leaned between some pillars, against a stained glass window. You should get your books for your next class. Forget Draco entirely, focus on the schoolwork you knew you had to get done.Â
You expected Draco to round the corner, a forgiving look on his face, knowing that you would mend things with him again. You were startled to see a gentle look and some red hair. You squinted, confused.Â
âMiss Slytherin, what on Earth are you doing out here?â he questioned. He crossed his arms. He wasnât here for some other reason, he had followed you. You glanced behind him, attempting to find Fred. Surely they were here to tease you mercilessly, just as Draco wouldâve done to them.Â
âWhereâs your better half?â you asked, bitterly. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.Â
âHeâs still eating, just as we both should be.âÂ
âWhoâs stopping you from going back?âÂ
âA very solemn look on a very not solemn girl.â You hardened your face defensively. You looked down at your shoes, hoping not to reveal anything else to him.Â
âIâm fine. Just getting some air, Weasley, donât worry about me.âÂ
âIâm not worried. Iâm curious. Thereâs a large difference.â You found yourself grateful for his care. Draco shouldâve been the one to follow you but he never would've been inquisitive on your feelings. He wouldâve told you his, begged you to forgive him, promise it would never happen again.Â
âIâm fine,â you repeated but it sounded less true this time than it had the first time.Â
âI can sniff out liars. Itâs a skill I have, courtesy of Ron being best friends with the boy who lived and such.â You eyed him, guarded. âAlright, well you canât say I didnât try.âÂ
He started to back away.Â
âItâs Draco. Though I suppose that gives you satisfaction doesnât it?âÂ
âI canât lie, it absolutely does.â He smiled slyly. âBut you donât deserve whatever that twat has dished out.â You looked back down at your shoes.Â
âThank you Weasley,â you said, quietly, like saying it any louder would mean youâd have to confront the situation.Â
âDo you know which Weasley I am?â he questioned, hands in his pockets, a familiar trickster look on his face.Â
âGeorge,â you said, without missing a beat. âIâm not stupid.â The smile he gave you was genuine. It felt like he had handed you a small promise, a gentle secret.Â
The doors to the Great Hall opened. Draco emerged, showing almost no reaction to you and George speaking. Almost. You knew his face and you knew the twitch in his lips and the anger boiling within his eyes.Â
âGet lost Weasley,â he said, enunciating clearly.Â
âCome to beg for forgiveness Malfoy?â George questioned.Â
âI donât need to tell you twice,â Draco promised, walking between the two of you. George put his hands up in surrender.Â
âNot my circus, not my monkeys,â he joked. He sauntered away, throwing you a wink that only you caught. You tried not to smile. It wasnât until he had returned to the Great Hall that Draco spoke.Â
âWe need to break up,â he said, clearly. The smile on your face fell into despair. What had you done to warrant this? The question seemed to be painted all over your face because he answered without you saying anything verbally. âWe donât work anymore. Itâs nothing youâve done.âÂ
Your face twisted.Â
âClearly it is.â
âItâs not. Thereâs no need to be emotional about this, we both knew it was coming.â You wished you could disagree with him. But you could tell he was distancing himself for this moment. You just thought you could play this game a little bit longer.Â
âAlright,â you breathed. âFine.âÂ
Draco showed nothing on his face other than awkwardness. He shoved his hands into his pockets. How long had he been wanting to do this? You crossed your arms and turned away, walking farther away from the Hall and back to the dorms. You werenât going to class this morning.Â
âYou arenât going to fight?â he questioned, annoyed.
âWhy would I? Clearly youâve given this a lot of thought. Weâre better off without each other.â His jaw set. He wanted a spat. He wanted a fight. Draco and you did nothing better than fight. You two could fight like no one else, screaming, throwing things, kissing and making it all better.Â
You wanted to fight him. You knew how it would end. But you also knew you were better off without it this time.Â
âFine,â he said. You were still walking away. Draco had been part of your identity here at Hogwarts. It would be an adjustment without him.Â
âFine,â you repeated and rushed away, turning a corner so you could allow your emotions to flow.Â
-
The next morning you made it halfway to your potions class before giving up. Sitting in the hallway and fake studying seemed so much more appealing than sitting in a classroom with Snape and Draco. You had no energy to make your way to the common rooms or a library so you sat on the steps beside a window, a book in your lap that you werenât reading.Â
You could hear footsteps making their way towards you and you quickly searched for some sort of excuse to be on stairs instead of in class. You were pleasantly surprised to not find a teacher when the footsteps emerged. Fred and George Weasley gave you curious looks.Â
âOi! What are you doing over here?â Fred asked. He seemed a little annoyed that they had run into you. You couldnât blame him. Draco was cruel to the Weasley family and you couldnât say that you were any better. You at least, never stopped it.Â
âJust ignoring potions,â you said truthfully. You wiped your eyes, just in case any stray tears from your small homework crying session had lingered.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â George asked. He seemed genuine but you didnât want to give him the immediate satisfaction that Draco had broken up with you.
âI want to apologize. For being so rude to the two of you, it isnât something I pride myself on,â you said changing the subject. It had been itching at you since yesterday and you were happy to finally get it out.Â
âItâs alright,â George started.
âWe rarely think such things personal,â Fred finished.
âI would personally blame the most of it on that horrid boyfriend of yours,â George said. You locked eyes with George. The sympathy on his face led you to believe he knew. He hadnât been told. He had guessed.Â
âWell I suppose you wonât have to worry about him influencing me any longer,â you promised, voice hard. You attempted to ignore the emotions that came with speaking it out loud. He wasnât worth the tears, you tried to tell yourself.Â
âHe finally did himself in,â George observed.Â
âAfter I spoke with you yesterday,â you explained.Â
âGood to be rid of him then,â Fred said.
âYou always did deserve better.âÂ
âTruly so.âÂ
All three of you heard footsteps coming down the hallway at the same time. A panicked look came across your face but they remained entirely calm. George grabbed the book off your lap and helped you up. You gazed at him, confused, as he led you to a hallway that hadnât seemed to be there before. You gasped, looking around, somehow within the walls of Hogwarts.Â
âHow did you know this was here?â you questioned in awe.Â
âLucky guess,â George promised, hand still holding your arm. It was a tighter space than you had been in before. You heard whoever was walking go past. You remained where you were, looking up at him with curious eyes.Â
âThis wasnât a guess. What do you two know?âÂ
âMore than you,â Fred assured. You scoffed, though the laughter was pleasant. You moved away from George, leaning against the wall.Â
âYou Gryffindors act like Slytherins are the sneaky ones,â you mused.Â
âTo be fair, a Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets didnât he?â You shrugged at the observation.Â
âAlright Weasleyâs let me out of the walls.âÂ
-Â
It was unexpected, just how drawn you felt to the twins. Especially George. You had never bothered to give them the time of day when you were with Draco. George was easy going when you needed emotional attention. They were light hearted and funny. You needed light hearted and funny.Â
The Hogsmeade trip was the highlight of everyoneâs month. Getting to leave the school was exciting, even if your school was a literal castle. You had always gone with Draco, even before the two of you dated. Still you forced yourself to get ready, bundle up into a scarf and hat, promising yourself a good time.Â
âHey!â You turned to find George, a smile plastered on his face. He was cozied up for the cold as well, though he was without the twin that usually trailed behind him.Â
âWell if it isnât my favorite Gryfindor,â you mused. âWhereâs Fred?âÂ
âFred had to stay behind and make up a test for Snape. I offered to help him cheat but heâs already on the terribly bad side of that teacher and decided to fend for himself,â George explained.Â
âWell better that than to end up having detention for the next month.âÂ
âWould you care to be my companion on this trip?â he asked, bowing dramatically and offering a hand. You laughed gently, shivering. It was starting to snow. You took his hand.Â
âMy red knight,â you teased. He threw his arm around you. You tried not to lean into him, or feel anything at all. You had just broken up with Draco.Â
Well, Draco had just broken up with you.Â
âHoneydukes?â he asked.Â
âI thought youâd never ask.âÂ
-
You stopped in for some butter beer and walked around until you were too cold to be outside. By the time you entered Honeydukes you were full and George had a butterbeer foam mustache. You pointed at it, shivering from the new warmth of the shop.Â
âIâve been trying to grow one,â he admitted, not wiping it away.Â
âIt is a good look,â you admitted, laughing.Â
âYou think so? Perhaps I could draw one on with some make-up pencils.â
âTheyâve got to have some fake mustaches around here somewhere.â George gravitated towards the candles which had some prank ones mixed within them.Â
âWhich should I bring back to Fred?â he questioned. âI was sorry he had to miss today.âÂ
âOne of those,â you said, pointing at the ones that explode when you light them. âHeâd love that.âÂ
âYouâre absolutely right Miss Slytherin. Iâm glad youâve got to come along with me.âÂ
âMe too,â you said earnestly. You couldnât remember the last time you had so much fun at Hogsmeade. Your smile lingered more now. George could almost swear you were glowing. It made him want to take you aside, keep you to himself. He refrained and offered you a candle to smell. You leaned in, a serene look going over your face as you breathed in. You made a twisted face.Â
âWhat is that one?â
âFirewood.â
âThatâs an awful candle!âÂ
You were laughing when Draco saw you. It was odd, going to Hogsmeade without you. He found himself unable to figure out what he wanted to do. Usually you dragged him around the shops and he ended up buying something you didnât need.Â
Seeing you so happy made his stomach churn. With a Weasley no less. He had thought you would still be heartbroken. He would be lying if he still wasnât a tad torn up himself. But you looked immensely unaffected by the lack of him around.Â
You looked happier.Â
âGoyle, go see what theyâre getting,â Draco spat. His friend nodded, eyeing him suspiciously before slinking through the crowd of people.Â
âSmell this one,â you said, offering another disgusting one. âYou should get this one for Fred, if youâre going to get him the chocolate frog like a good brother. Itâs onlyâŠâ you trailed off, feeling Dracoâs gaze. You caught his eye. At the same time George saw Goyle, coming to do Malfoyâs dirty work.Â
âOh bloody hell,â George muttered. He gave you the things he was holding and turned to Goyle who looked like a deer caught in headlights. George grabbed him by the scarf, dragging him over to Draco.Â
Draco had never noticed how tall George Weasley was.Â
âMade your minion come and do your dirty work, did you?â George questioned. You rushed forward, leaving your things on the table where you were at.Â
âWhatâs your end goal here Weasley? Have you gotten into her pants yet?â Draco questioned, voice like venom. George shoved Goyle at Draco, almost causing both of them to fall over.Â
âListen here Malfoy-âÂ
âGeorge he isnât worth it,â you promised, grabbing his shoulder.
âOh no, let him speak.â Draco stepped up, sizing up the twin. âWhat, did she call my name instead of yours?â There was nothing you could have done to stop George. He was already throwing the punch before you could even register Dracoâs words.Â
Draco staggered, hand up to his nose.Â
âWatch your tongue Malfoy,â George seethed. You had never seen him so worked up before. You werenât even sure he knew how to get angry, let alone through a punch as good as that one. Dracoâs nose was bleeding, dripping down his chin. Goyle turned to his friend, eyes wide in shock. Hexes were one thing. An actual assault was something completely different.Â
âGeorge come on,â you hissed, pulling him away. This time George listened, allowing you to drag him out of the shop. You didnât speak until you had left the scene completely, landing on one of the hills just outside of Hogsmead. The snow had piled up. You could see the footsteps you took here.
George had calmed down, the red almost completely gone from his face.Â
âGod George,â you hissed, grabbing his wrist. You looked at his knuckles, now slightly bruised from the impact on Dracoâs face.Â
âI donât regret it,â he promised. His general joy was back.Â
âWhy are you being so nice to me? After all Draco and I put you through, I didnât deserve that,â you questioned.Â
âFred and I agree, it was always more Malfoy than you.â He paused, gazing down at you. âAnd I always did think you deserved better than him.â His voice was quieter now.Â
âLike who?â you asked before you could even process his words. âYou?â You meant for it to come out like a joke but your tone was too soft to have it be read as one. There was a moment of silence. You smiled at his stunned face. You had caught him off guard and he wasnât sure how to answer.Â
âWell yes. I suppose,â George said finally. You smiled. You could feel the cold on your face, making your movement slower than usual but the joy was there either way.Â
âGood then.âÂ
âGood?â he asked. You were still holding his wrist, so close to his hand.Â
âWeâre in agreement.â He scoffed.
âAgreement then.âÂ
âYes. Agreement.âÂ
âLove, Iâm going to kiss you now.â The words sent shivers down your spine.Â
âAlright,â you breathed. His lips were warmer than yours. He didnât allow you to get away with just a peck. He said he would kiss you and he meant it. You were smiling against the kiss, too stunned to do much else than kiss him back.Â
When you pulled away you noticed one of his hands were on your side and he had started to hold the one that was once holding his wrist. You could see your breath in the cold but you could see him more clearly.Â
âLetâs go back to the school and get a bandage for your hand,â you said quietly. He nodded, keeping your hands intertwined.Â
âJust a moment.â He took off his scarf, the red and gold one that signified his house colors. He took off yours, the Slytherin green and black. He wrapped his own scarf around your neck and you watched him with wonderstruck eyes. The scarf smelled like him. It was warm with his body heat. He lazily put yours over his neck. âAlright we can go now.âÂ
-
Fred was in the Gryffindor common room when you got back. The school was empty, sans the portraits, ghosts and a few stragglers. Everyone was still going about enjoying their day outside of the grounds.Â
âWhat did you bring me?â Fred questioned, standing up from the couch beside the fire. You had started to shed your layers, taking off your gloves and hat. âYou have a severe case of hat hair Slytherin,â he noted.Â
âGeorge punched Draco in the face,â you explained brightly.Â
âGood for him.â He patted George on the back. âHe had it coming.âÂ
âSo we had to run away,â you explained. âHence, the empty hands.â Fred rolled his eyes.Â
âYou could have stolen something but alas.â George gave his twin a gaze that caused Fred to pause. There was a beat of silence. âI think I left something in the dorms...â he said, slowly, eyes squinted.Â
âYes that sounds right.âÂ
Fred backed away, a cheeky smile on his face.Â
âFaster Fred,â you said, smiling. You couldnât remember the last time you had smiled this much. He took the hint and scurried up the stairs. George sat in front of the fire. You looked around for some bandages, finding a familiar box of supplies that you had in the Slytherin common room. You sat beside him, helping him take off his large jacket.Â
âYou can help take off the rest of my clothing if you would like Slytherin.â You flushed, unable to meet his eyes.Â
âIâd like to wrap up your hand first.âÂ
âFirst implies a second thing,â he mused.Â
âYes, yes it does.â You finally looked up at his face. He was gazing at you with a look Draco had never even understood. Georgeâs eyes had softened, the lines on the side of his face turned downward. His lips were parted expectantly. âThank you for today,â you whispered.Â
âIâd like to do it again, if youâre up for it.âÂ
âPunching Draco or kissing me?âÂ
âHonestly I wouldnât mind doing both again. But I was talking about the kissing thing.â You giggled. You actually giggled.Â
âI already promised that. Donât be so eager George.â
âI will be as eager as I want to.âÂ
You gently joked at each other as you wrapped up his knuckles, getting warmer by the fire. He played with his scarf around your neck. He distracted you by trailing his fingers across your jaw. He promised to memorize your face.Â
Reader is pregnant with Buckyâs child and she hasnât told him yet. Reader must go on an undercover mission and it goes horribly wrong.
2. Hello and Goodbye, by @sweetascanbee âš
Bucky x Adopted Wilson!Reader
You are Sam's adopted little sister, and he brings home a mysterious friend.
3. Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff
Bucky x Reader
It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world.Â
4. Save Me From Myself by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader
You are being hunted by HYDRA and Bucky has been tasked with keeping you safe. Problem is, the two of you have a history.
5. Quiet by @nastybuckybarnes
Bucky x Reader
Steve Rogers makes an accidental discovery while on a simple hydra base raid. You. He brings you back to the Avengers Tower where they all try to figure you out. Your⊠interesting way of communicating makes that especially hard. Until one super-soldier proves otherwise.
6. Deepest Desires by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader
A series of sexual escapades where Bucky shows you what itâs like to give in to your deepest desires.
7. The Proposal by @captain-rogers-beard
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Bucky Barnes world is turned upside down after he agrees to marry his boss, a woman he despises.
8. The Playlist by @bolontiku
Bucky x Mutant!Reader
being new to the Avengers you canât help but screw with Buckyâs playlist.
9. Dreaming of Better Days by @wizardofrozz âš
40s!Bucky x Reader
Steve always manages to find a fight no matter where he goes and Bucky is always ready to defend his best friend, until one day someone beats him to it. Bucky isnât prepared to find you standing up for his best friend and he definitely wasnât prepared to be so swept up by you. But most of all, he didnât expect you to have such an important place in his future.Â
9-2. Echos of the Past by @wizardofrozz
Bucky x Super Soldier!Reader
Buckyâs gone again, leaving you and Steve to regroup. Finding Bucky seems impossible, and the relentless memories donât make things easier. One thing that scares you the most is who you might find when youâre reunited after 70 years. Has Hydra destroyed you and Bucky beyond repair?
10. Grease Lightning by @language-rxgers âš
Bucky x Reader High School AU
Youâre on the hair & makeup team for your schoolâs production of Grease, and Nat has signed you up to do the makeup for the lead role of Danny Zuko- played by none other than Bucky Barnes.Â
11. Best Boyfriend Youâve Never Had by @language-rxgers
Bucky x Reader
When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesnât leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.
12. Timeless Love by @beccaanne814
Bucky x Agent!Reader
YN has finally met the love of her life. The problem is â itâs a long distance relationship. She lives in Washington D.C., and heâs in Brooklyn, NY. Thereâs also one other minor detail â heâs from 1943 and sheâs from 2012. Can the two of them find a way to transcend time to be together?
13. Đ¶Đ”Đ»Đ°ĐœĐžĐ” by @sebbytrash âš
Bucky x Agent!Reader
Steve had drafted Bucky in to help with your training, not knowing you had feelings for him. Feelings? Ok, you were attracted to the man. Insanely so. And he hated you. Or at least thatâs what you think, but is there more going on than you realise?
14. The Soldier | Podcasts | Examination by @softlybarnes
Bucky x Reader
The Winter Soldier finds the reader after a particularly grueling mission.Â
15. Starlight by @viperbarnes
40s!Bucky x Reader (but the reader is named)
You'd grown up chasing after your brother and his best friend. Now that they've both returned from war, it seems Bucky's the one finally chasing after you.
16. Stripped by @moonbeambucky
Bucky x Agent!Reader
You are a SHIELD agent working undercover in a strip club whose owner is involved with organized crime. When you find out he might be in talks with HYDRA Bucky Barnes is brought in to help with the mission.
17. Glass of Water | 2 by @beautifulbuckys
Bucky x Reader
Reader LOVES making Bucky Barnes blush. What happens when he turns the tables?
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Warnings: fights :( and mentions of sex if you squint.
Word count: 7.5K
You werenât an anxious girlfriend by any means.Â
Peter could do whatever he wanted when he wanted.
If he wanted to go get pizza with MJ you would encourage it. If he wanted to help out Inez in intro to darwinism because she was confused you would tell him to go for it. When he got Bailey's number to help her with some minor debate help you saw no issue with it.Â
Until now.
Now you were asking yourself if you sent him into the arms of another girl.Â
You hated that you noticed this, you were never like this before but Peter suddenly had a lot to talk about with Bailey. When you went out for dinner he started keeping his phone upside down, when you hung out he kept it near him at all times so when a text came through he could intercept it immediately.Â
That was red flag number one.Â
It didnât come to a head until recently. Peter went to the bathroom during movie night and his phone went off once, you continued to look at the screen. His phone went off twice, you looked at his phone face down on the arm of the couch. His phone went off three times, you looked towards the phone and the bathroom door. When it went off for the fourth time you couldnât help it. You never looked through his stuff before but what could Bailey need that it required four double texts?Â
Holding your breath and looking towards the door again you lent over and picked up his phone. You sighed when you realized you were correct and looked at the stacked notifications from Bailey. You tapped on them to open them, you needed to put in his passcode. You typed it in but it vibrated, you did it again but it happened once more. You did it slower, pressing each number on their own. His phone locked, one minute before you could try again.Â
He changed his passcode.Â
Red flag number two.Â
You tried to stay normal but the panic of him talking to a girl while changing his passcode didnât leave much room for interpretation. When he came out of the bathroom he was wiping his hands on his pajama pants. He sat down and kissed your head, âYou okay?â His question came when you pulled away from him, you crossed your arms and stared at the screen.Â
âBaby?â He called when you ignored him.Â
You hummed. If you spoke to him right now it wouldnât be pretty.Â
âYou okay? You look like-â He started to make a joke, you cut him off. It wasnât the time to be cute and funny.Â
âLike my boyfriend has been texting a girl so much it made me insecure and when I tried to look at what was so important she needed to text you four times in a row I realized you changed your phone passcode?â You turned to look at him dead in the eye.Â
âDo I look like that, Peter?âÂ
His eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open and his cheeks flushed with color.Â
He looked guilty.Â
âI, I, IâŠâ He tried to start.Â
âYou, You, You.â You spat back.Â
You stood and grabbed your water bottle and phone.Â
âYou need a better excuse. Iâll talk to you later.âÂ
You walked to the door and picked up your backpack. You had a hand on the door and waited. You waited for something, anything. You waited for Peter to speak, to call your name, to call you dumb for insinuatiting what you were, to beg you to stay, to talk about it. You waited for him to web your hand to the door, something.Â
You opened the door and waited. You walked over the threshold and waited. You shut the door and waited. You walked down the stairs slowly, you stopped at the lobby entrance for a moment and waited.Â
He never came.Â
Red flag number three.Â
If you were a cartoon character you would have steam coming from your ears. Your head would be red and swelling, it would pop with the pressure of heat and anger. If you could burn holes through someone right now it would be Peter.Â
Because, when you tell your boyfriend someone heâs talking to makes you feel insecure and you even snap at him over it and leave his house you would think he would learn something. Not having her stand at his locker, talking back and forth. You watched with seething anger, he was talking about something insignificant, you could always tell when he was ranting on a topic.Â
But Bailey, you never really watched her. And boy are you glad you tapped into that conversation.Â
Bailey liked Peter. No. She loved Peter.Â
You could see it written all over her face, her eyes were lit up at his movements, she was laughing when he wasnât saying anything funny. She was curling a stand of hair around her finger, twisting her hips back and forth. But Peter, Peter didn't have a notice in the world she was looking at him like that.Â
He was just moving things around from his backpack to his locker, he didnât look at her once but she bored her eyes into his face like he was the world's greatest human. Peter could be deft at times, he was so smart but so dumb. He could recite the first fifty numbers of Pi but had no clue when a girl was into him.Â
You slammed your locker and stomped over to him.Â
The power that you felt the moment Peterâs gaze finally looked up and smiled at you walking to him. And the moment Baileyâs face dropped. You lent forward for a kiss and smiled when he pushed his head down to meet you, he pulled back but you pulled him back by the waist of his shirt for one more.Â
âLooks like someone made up after the fight.âÂ
Your power was drained. You felt weightless and defeated.Â
You looked at Peter and frowned. He almost wanted to cry, in the time youâve been together heâs never seen a sadder face.Â
âYou told her?â Your words were built in betrayal. He wouldnât talk to you but he talked to her? The reason you felt so shitty to begin with?Â
âYeah,â He looked at Bailey for a second, he licked his lips and thought of his next words carefully.Â
âYeah, I just needed a girlâs perspective.âÂ
You stepped back from him.Â
âA girl's perspective?âÂ
You looked at Bailey, she had a half smirk but dropped it when Peter looked at her again.Â
He nodded his head and gulped. Bailey said this would help but it was backfiring badly. He didnât choose his words carefully enough.Â
âYou couldâve asked MJ or literally anyone else.â Your voice was monotone.Â
âWell Bailey-â He started. He was defending her. Not you.Â
Red flag number four.Â
You cut him off and spoke loudly. You wanted the hall to hear this.Â
âBailey wants to fuck you. Sheâs trying to fuck this up.â You pointed between you and him.Â
âAnd youâre letting her.âÂ
You stepped back ready to turn away to go to class. You looked at Bailey once more, her head was down and her cheeks were the color of a tomato, her whole body was flushed. You called her out in front of everyone.Â
You looked back at Peter and pointed at her ashamed stance.Â
âI donât want to give you an ultimatum. Iâm not that kind of girlfriend, but when you choose two girls you lose the one.âÂ
You shook your head at him in disappointment and turned for math class.Â
Peter was always your partner in lab. Even though you didnât sit together he made a deal with his seat partner that during lab he would work with you instead. He always looked forward to the block class, he got almost 2 hours with you and especially today he needed the time to talk to you, to try and fix this because god, you were pissed.Â
But imagine his surprise when the teacher called for lab and you moved to his table but when his table partner went to stand you pushed his shoulder back down.Â
âThanks Tye, but today Iâm going to work with Bailey.âÂ
You looked at Peter and turned to go back to your work station with Bailey. Her face froze in panic when you returned, you smiled at her.Â
âWhy arenât you working with Peter?â She laughed to ease the tension. It didnât work.Â
âBecause,â You sat next to her and twirled a strand of her hair around your finger.Â
âI don't want to work with Peter today. I want to talk about Peter today. I thought you would love that, both of us chatting about the boy we love.âÂ
Peter gulped. You knew he could hear you, you knew he wouldnât be able to focus right now. You knew he was in full blown panic mode. You knew he was a nervous pee-er.Â
Bailey looked behind her at Peter but you caught her chin to bring her back to your face.Â
âHeâs nervous. He doesnât like that I broke the routine.â You looked at her.Â
âWhen heâs nervous he has to pee. Itâs cute, on our first date he had to pee like seven times.âÂ
âHeâs about to ask for a bathroom pass.âÂ
Peterâs hand raised, âMrs. McClendon, can I go to the bathroom?âÂ
You raised an eyebrow at her. âTold you.âÂ
You watched her take your words in silence. She was scared of you at the moment, it was cute.Â
âNow, when he gets back, he is going to look at us. Heâs going to wipe his hands on his pants and bite his lower lip. Then heâs going to sit down, heâs gonna tap his pencil on the desk and bounce his leg. Then heâs going to get up and look around and sharpen his pencil at the front of the class so he can get a better look at me to make sure I'm not tormenting you too much.â You smiled at her when you finished.Â
Bailey wasnât sure where you were going with this.Â
When the class door opened you paused on writing down a chemistry question, the solution was the mixture you would be working on today.Â
âGo ahead. Look at him.â You nodded towards the back of the class. Bailey kept her eyes on her paper, you elbowed her.Â
âReally, watch him. Iâm asking you too.âÂ
You watched as Bailey looked at you, then turned her head to your boyfriend. You continued to work, even sliding Baileyâs worksheet to you to finish the second half of the equation. Bailey watched Peter at your command, she watched as he wiped his hands and looked around the room chewing on his bottom lip. He looked around until he looked towards their table, his eyes on you. You bent over the table, you looked between the pages and started to mumble. He heard you mutter something along the lines of âif Peter was here how would he do this? Is it x squared? No he would say that not every problem would be solved with x squared.âÂ
He moved his eyes to see Bailey looking at him, he hadn't even noticed she was staring at him.Â
Peter moved to his seat with his head down. He started to tap the end of his pencil on the desk, then moved from biting his lip to shaking his leg. He looked at you once more, ignoring Baileyâs eyes. He looked at his pencil and pressed the lead to his desk watching it snap. He stood and walked to the front of the class to sharpen it again. He looked towards you and watched you struggle with the question, if you weren't mad at him you would have asked for help 3 times over by now.Â
He blew a breath through his mouth, he had to at least check on you. He had to make sure you werenât berating Bailey too bad. He slowly made his way towards you, if the teacher asked he was taking the long way back to his seat. He paused in front of your seat, he was ignoring Bailey right now. Even he wouldnât be stupid enough to try and talk to her right now.Â
âHowâs it going over here?âÂ
You looked up to Peter and smiled, you wrapped an arm around Baileyâs elbow and tugged her into your side. âGreat! You know, I think we have some things in common.â You looked at her and watched her slow blink, you pushed your shoulder to hers, âRight?â She just nodded blankly.Â
âThatâs great.â Peter responded weakly, he moved to stand over your shoulder.Â
âNeed any help?âÂ
You straightened your back and felt him involuntarily move in, it was a habit. He was used to standing guard over you.Â
âYes, actually.â You pulled your arm from Baileyâs, and pointed to the sixth task.Â
He hummed and moved forward, his hand moving over your shoulder to grab your pencil. He lent his mouth into the back of your head and placed a soft kiss. You knew it was an âI love youâ and grabbed his wrist in a silent âI love you too.âÂ
âYou know you canât solve everything with x squared right?â You lent your head back into his chest and groaned.Â
âI know but last lesson it was the answer to everything and it made me feel smart and now I need your help again.â You placed a kiss on his forearm. âEvery time I feel caught up it changes.âÂ
Peter hummed and wrote the equation down for you, most times he helped you solve it. Sometimes you weren't in the mood for a whole lesson and he would just give you the answer.Â
âI know, itâs such a drag to help you. I mean, you have to come over and I help you and then we get to watch movies and I get to kiss up on you. Itâs actually terrible.â He kissed your forehead and pulled back.Â
âYouâre good to start now. You wanna come over tonight? We can do homework, orâŠâ He trailed off and moved to your right ear, his whisper to you only, he didnât want Bailey to hear, your reaction alone would make her shake.Â
âOr, we can do something else. May isnât home, she wonât be back til tomorrow evening. Whole place for us all night.â He mumbled into your ear and you pulled back with a gasp. You held a hand to your chest, âPeter Parker!â He hummed and smiled, he placed a kiss on the top of your head.Â
Before he parted he pulled your head back by your chin, your face pulled backwards to look at him upside down. He had both his hands on the side of your face and smiled with his whole heart, he looked into your eyes and spoke honestly.Â
âHey. I love you.â He winked and went back to his seat.Â
You started to pull the liquids to make the chemical reaction.Â
âHow accurate was I?âÂ
Bailey looked at you, and spoke softly.Â
âSpot on.âÂ
âKnow why I told you that?â She shook her head no.Â
You smiled at her with pity, you knew she felt it. She looked down in shame, âKnow why I asked you to look at him?â She looked at you again, âNo.âÂ
âBecause, You will never know him like I do. And he will never love you like he loves me.âÂ
You talked to him in lab. You lent into his touch and he even gave you the answer off the bat. He even totally ignored Bailey and felt like a dick but he did it so you would know there was nothing to worry about. He loved you, he thought you knew that. He didnât mean to make you so upset, he really didnât mean to make you cry.Â
In fact, if Peter really thought about it he canât remember a time heâs made you cry like this. He made you cry because he made you feel beneath him.Â
Peter thought when you came over tonight all would be solved. There would be no Bailey discussion, he figured he made his point when he ignored her existence in class today but apparently that wasnât good enough.Â
The way tonight went Peter wasnât even sure he had a girlfriend anymore.Â
Honestly he wasnât too sure when it started. He wondered if you came over with the intention to fight or it just happened, maybe it was intentional because you didnât even bring your backpack. You were in pajamas and had mascara under your eyes, he wondered if it was from crying or rubbing at your eyes from a long day.Â
âHi.â He greeted you at the door.Â
âHey.â That set him back some, you both always said the same thing. It was always hi, always. Peter felt like he was slipping, were you both on different pages?Â
âHey?âÂ
âHello?â You questioned back.Â
âAre we just running through formal greetings?â You moved to the kitchen to inspect his fridge. Peter always had the best snacks and drinks, and they were always different. It was the first thing you always checked, looking for the flavor of the week.Â
âHi. Itâs always hi.â Peter felt nervous, his eyes shot to his bathroom door.Â
You scanned the fridge and found the new soda flavor in front of you.Â
âOo, orange? May is going crazy. If she gets grape next time I won't leave until I finish all of them.âÂ
âDid you hear me?â He shifted his weight.Â
âHuh? Oh, yes sorry. Hi, Peter.â Your voice was muffled when you poked your head back into the fridge.Â
Peter frowned. It threw off his balance and it didnât feel the same when he asked you to say it. He wanted you to do it naturally, not because he wanted it.Â
âBabe, do you have any more cherry Coke? I kinda want one of those instead.âÂ
âUm, Maybe. I can look, I really have to pee though.â He nearly sprinted to the bathroom.Â
When he opened the door he saw you standing right by it, he jumped a little and held his hand to his chest. He looked behind you to the kitchen and started to make his way to look for your cherry coke.Â
He stopped when you put out an arm to block him from moving.Â
âAm I making you nervous?âÂ
Peter looked around and looked back at you.Â
âA little.âÂ
You raised your eyebrows.Â
âWhy?âÂ
âI think you're mad at me.âÂ
You paused and thought about it. You were a little upset still but not angry.Â
âI donât think I am. Iâm a little upset but I donât want to yell at you.âÂ
âYouâre not mad?âÂ
You moved in for a hug and squeezed until he grunted.Â
âNot mad.âÂ
âThen why didnât you say hi?âÂ
âHi.â You kissed where your head fell on his chest. You leaned up and kissed up his neck into his jaw, each kiss he was given an âHiâ.
âOkay, okay I get it!â He laughed and pushed you away from him.Â
You followed him to the kitchen and watched him squat in front of the fridge, his head ducking to try and find a Coke for you, he knows you stashed one. You just forgot where you put it. He rooted around in the vegetable drawer and pulled the last one out. He held it to you and you gasped and held it to your chest.Â
âMy hero!âÂ
Peter stood and stretched, âIf only every crime was that easy.âÂ
You yawned at his stretch and watched him copy.Â
âIâm putting on my PJâs. You pick the movie.â You gave him a âyou sure?â look. Peter always chose the movies, he said you had the worst taste in movies and you werenât able to pick them anymore. When you binge TV he loves your choices, but movies were a failed task.Â
âIâm positive. Be right back.â He answered your look, it made your heart swell when he did that. He knew you so well that one look could ask him a question.Â
You cracked open the can and took a sip, you offered one to Peter. He took the can and took a mouthful that puffed his cheeks out. He wiggled his eyebrows and you giggled, he turned to his room to change. You meant to walk to the couch to choose a movie, and you did. You even sat your soda and phone down but then the thought of Peter changing was so exciting you bailed and went to watch him.Â
Except the excitement was blown the second you walked in. Peter wasnât changing, he was sitting on his bed with his phone pulled to him with the charger in. He was fully clothed still, he went in with the intention of getting on his phone, not putting on pajamas.Â
His fingers were moving fast, he was trying to write as quickly as the thoughts came to him.Â
You knew who he was talking to.Â
Red flag number 5.Â
âWhat is wrong with you?â Your words were venomous.Â
Peterâs head shot up and his eyes went wide.Â
âYou didnât think Iâd catch you? Youâre so smart Peter, why are you being so dumb?âÂ
Peterâs eyebrows furrowed.Â
âWhat does that mean?âÂ
âWhy are you still talking to her? What is it about her?â You pointed at his phone in his hand. He locked it and placed it face down on the nightstand. Your breath caught, he still didnât want you to see.Â
You took a step back, and stared at his phone.Â
âPeter, I think we should break up.âÂ
Peter stood from the bed.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âI think we should break up.âÂ
âWhat?â He couldnât conceptualize what you were saying.Â
âI donât like how youâre making me feel. I think I need to step back from this.âÂ
âStep back? No, no no no, you don't need to step back.â His hands started to shake. He didnât mean for this to happen, he didnât know how serious you were at school. You told him youâd dump him.Â
âThen why are you still texting her?â You shouted the words, tears gathering. You were about to break down.Â
âSheâs a friend! You treated her like shit today and she wanted to make it right with me.â Peter sighed and felt tired, he didnât feel like fighting right now.Â
âI treated her like shit? Sheâs the one that is trying to ruin this!âÂ
âReally? Because youâre the one fighting with me.âÂ
The tears came down your face, you started to huff.Â
âWhy are you letting her do this?âÂ
Peter ran a hand over his face. He could fight guys all night long but fights with his girlfriend were daunting and exhausting. There was always too much emotion involved.Â
âIâm just talking to her. As a friend. Iâm your boyfriend, you won.âÂ
âThen why did you change your passcode!â You screamed the words, your breaths were short.
âAnd why do you hide your phone from me? And why are you lying about talking to her?â You were on the verge of hyperventilating.Â
âIâm not! Morgan got my password and texted everyone in my recents I sucked. I changed it then, I swear! Iâm not trying to hide it but you said you were insecure!â Peter tried to defend himself but just put his foot in his mouth.
âI'm insecure? You know I'm insecure about her and youâre still talking to her?â You wiped your tears and sniffled.Â
âShe just went through a bad break up! She said it was hurting debate so she needed help and she just started talking to me.âÂ
âShe wants a rebound not a friend Peter!â You were hurt and frustrated.Â
âOh my God!â He shouted and pulled at his hair.Â
âShe knows you exist! She knows we're dating!.â He pointed between you two. Â
âAnd she doesnât care! You know she likes you, I know you do!â Your voice was rising again.Â
âI didnât know it until today, I swear. But she knows weâre dating and that nothing will happen! She told me today!âÂ
âAnd you told her about last night?â You shot at him.
âI needed to talk to someone!â He matched your tone.Â
âBut not your girlfriend? Really? Youâre going to talk to the person that made me leave?â You slapped your hands on your thighs and sniffled. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked out his window as you started to cry again.Â
Peter sighed and looked at you, you were so upset you were trembling. He had really fucked this up, he was trying to save the relationship not make it worse. He stepped forward to grab you but you stepped back and looked at him.Â
âWhy her?â You sniffled and wiped away your tears before more were released.Â
âI never get jealous. I let you talk to other girls all the time, I let you hang out with them and I don't get mad or question you. But this one, this one makes me upset. Why canât you get that? Itâs just one.â You spoke softly, your lip trembled with the sob that wanted to escape. You wanted nothing more than your boyfriend to hug you and tell you he would stop talking to her, but he didnât.Â
âI didnât mean for that to happen, Y/N. I just thought she needed a friend. I just think youâre reading too much into it.â He spoke calmly but his words made you feel dumb, like this was a silly argument.Â
Red flag number 6.
âI donât like you right now Peter. Iâve told you how I feel about her twice now and each time you wave it off. Itâs not about her anymore, she's just a girl from school. But you're my boyfriend, and you've made me feel belittled and downplayed and lower than you.â You moved towards the door, but kept facing him.Â
âIâm sorry I made you feel that way. It wasnât my intention.â His response was robotic.Â
You guffawed at him, his words were hollow. Did he not understand what was happening here?Â
âYou know what Peter? It feels like you're cheating on me.â Your words sent swords to his heart.Â
âIâm not- I would never.â He moved towards you and grabbed your hands in his.Â
âIâm not cheating on you. I wouldnât do that, okay? I love you.âÂ
You pulled your hand from his and shook your head. The disappointment was written on your face, even he could see it.Â
âIf you loved me you wouldnât treat me this way.â Your words were soft, the decision was made. You werenât going to make your partner choose you.Â
âWhat does that mean?â His voice was panicked. He didnât mean for this to happen.Â
You stayed silent. He knew what this meant. He was fucking this up, you were the love of his life and heâs about to let you walk out the door. He was letting you dump him.Â
âBaby, what does that mean?â You turned your face and held your eyes shut as you cried. This was so hard.Â
âBaby?â His voice was pleading. You cried harder at the word, it was yours. He gave you that name and you wore it like a badge.Â
âPlease.â His voice cracked.Â
Peter had never cried in an argument, but this wasnât an argument anymore. This was a breakup.Â
âDonât do this. Please, donât do this to me. Iâm sorry, please donât. Please.â He begged you.Â
You shook your head, you had to stay strong. You had to prove you were worth more.Â
âBaby, please. Iâll let you read the texts. Iâll block her number. Please. Anything.âÂ
You met his eyes, they were red and glistening. His nose was red, you remembered you told him his nose always went red when he cried. You called him your little rudolph. You just felt sad looking at him.Â
âPlease donât leave me.â His voice cracked and tears ran down his cheeks. His breaths were short, once the tears started he couldnât stop. He brought his wrist to his eye and rubbed at it. He turned his back to you, his quick inhales left you wanting to run to him. You wanted to rub your hand down his back and help him breathe, you wanted to hold him and tell him it was okay but it wasnât. You didnât feel secure anymore.Â
âPeter,â You looked at his front door, you needed to leave. You couldnât watch him anymore, it was becoming unbearable.Â
âPeter, I should go.â You nearly whispered the words, they were so hard to say.Â
âY/N.â He whimpered. Youâve never heard him like this. He was pleading with you, he needed you like water right now.Â
âPeter, I have to go now. Iâll see you later, okay?â You stared at his back. You realized you hadnât kissed him tonight, you didnât get a last kiss.Â
You silently grabbed your phone and left. He didnât say a word, part of you wanted him to fight harder for you. The other was glad he didnât, he let you make this as easy as possible and you knew it killed him inside to do it.Â
You loved him. You truly loved him with your whole heart. And if you were cruel you would tell him that, but instead you looked at him one last time. He was hunched over as his shoulders shook, he was holding in his cries for you. Your heart fell to the floor and you left it there as you passed over the threshold.Â
Peter couldnât sleep that night.Â
He also couldnât be Spider-Man that night. He couldnât do anything that required him to get out of bed, he felt trapped the second you left. His mind was hollow, he was entirely empty inside. He kept replaying the fight in his mind, he was never good at fighting with you. He always said the wrong things and made it worse. Thatâs why he never tried to fight.Â
He felt depleted and at a loss. He felt so fucking stupid too. He doesnât know why he fought you so hard on it. It was one person that made you feel bad, but Peter, the one who wants to do nothing but love and protect you made it worse. He didnât take your side, and thatâs why you dumped him. He doesnât blame you, heâd dump himself if he could.Â
He told himself âThatâs it!â If he goes over to Baileyâs and talks to her he can solve everything with you. He just needed to friend dump her and everything goes back to normal. Satisfied with his plan he jumped out of bed and grabbed his wallet and phone barley locking the front door before speeding down the stairs.Â
When he got to Baileyâs the plan was simple: Tell her girlfriend dumped you, tell her you can no longer be friends, get girlfriend back. Easy enough.Â
But the second the first part came out she let out an âThank God!â and sighed.Â
âWhat?â Peter was puzzled.Â
âThank God! She was the absolute worst. I donât know how you lasted that long with her. She is truly insufferable. Sheâs always talking about you and going on and on about how special she is to be with you. If Iâm being honest she never deserved you.â She paused and took a sip from her straw.Â
âYou didnât like her?â Peter was lost. Bailey had told him you were friends and she loved how cute you and him were together.Â
Bailey laughed at his question. âGod no, I was praying for her downfall.âÂ
âWhat? Why?â Peter couldnât believe this. He was so blindsided, you were right. All she wanted was to get him to herself. And he let it happen.Â
âShe didnât deserve you. I just said that, silly.âÂ
Bailey moved closer to Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder.Â
âBut, if youâre feeling sad and needy I can make a good rebound. I need one myself, this works out perfectly.â She lent in to kiss him but Peter pushed her back.Â
âAre you insane? You said you needed a friend. I was good to you, I believed you when you said you wanted nothing more than that. I fought with my girlfriend over you. I got dumped because of you and you want to have sex?â Peter stood and shook his head at her.Â
âYouâre not a good person. You rubbed off on me, I was a terrible boyfriend tonight. You donât deserve me at all, and how you could insinuate that is beyond me. You are a shitty human who did a terrible thing.â He spat the words and turned to leave.Â
âOh yeah? Well youâre just as bad. You fell into my trap just as easy, you knew what I wanted. Even your girlfriend called me out and you still kept talking to me. You must not have loved her that much.â She shrugged her shoulders, this was nothing to her.Â
Peterâs blood boiled with her words. You had told him those words just a few hours before and now Bailey was rubbing that in his face. Peter clenched his fists but couldnât keep calm, he was so pissed at this girl that ruined his relationship he couldnât keep a level head. He turned to walk to where she had stayed. Peter bent at the waist so his face was in hers directly, he wanted her to know the words he was about to share came from his heart.Â
âYou are vile. You are scum. You are a terrible shitty human with no remorse or moral standpoints. You prayed on pity and turned it into a fun game. You mean nothing to me, if you were on fire I wouldnât even spit on you. I think you are the worst person I have ever met and Iâve met a lot of them.â His words were ice cold, he has never spoken such cruel things.Â
âWow. That hurts.â She blinked at him.Â
âYou know what Bailey? I hope you find love, I really do. And I hope itâs really good. The kind of once in a lifetime kind of love. The love where you know the other person like the back of your hand, there is nothing that they can hide from you, and you canât hide it from them. I want you to have a love that gives you a reason to wake up in the morning, someone that makes you breathe better just by seeing them. A love where you canât imagine one possible moment without them because no matter what it is they just make it so much better. I hope that for you, I really do.â Peter spoke sincerely and went to leave.Â
âDo you really?â Her voice was soft. She always wanted a love like that, she dreamed of it.Â
âOf course.â He had his hand on her doorknob and turned his head over his shoulder.Â
âThen I hope you fuck it all up and lose it all.â He opened the door and slammed it behind him.Â
Peter was banging on your window.Â
You tried to ignore the taps at first, but then they were knocks. Then they were thumps of his palm against the window. You rolled your eyes, there was a reason it was shut and locked. You wanted to keep him out.Â
His restlessness was unsettled, his bangs became faster until you huffed and threw the covers off you and ripping the curtains open. You stared at Peter on the other side of the glass, and waited. You werenât going to say a word until he did.Â
Peter looked at you wide eyed with an open mouth. He didnât expect you to actually come to the window, he assumed he would have to break in.Â
âWhat?â You barked the words at him. You didnât want to break the silence first but he was taking too long. Peter cupped his hand around his ear and made a confused face. âWhat?â You repeated. He narrowed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his ears.Â
âI know you can hear me Peter!âÂ
He stared blankly at you.Â
You groaned and unlocked the window and threw it up.Â
âHi!â He smiled at you.Â
âHi.âÂ
His heart clenched. You still did it. Involuntary or not it counted.Â
âWhat do you want?â You were quick to the point.Â
âOi! What happened to exes being friends?âÂ
You frowned at him. Itâs too soon for him to be making these jokes, it hasnât even been twelve hours.Â
âNot funny yet?â He read your mind.Â
âNo.âÂ
âThatâs okay. Iâm still into my ex.â He shrugged and watched you roll your eyes. He didnât miss the hint of a smile on your lips, he still has you.Â
âWhy are you here?âÂ
âI went to Baileyâs house.â He started but you were finished at that sentence.Â
You stared at him and pushed the window down, he caught it at the bottom and pushed it up. You huffed and pushed it down, he kept his hand in place the window not budging against his grasp. You stood on your tiptoes and put all your weight into pushing it down but it stayed complacent.Â
âThis isnât one youâll win baby.â His tone was cocky, he liked seeing you flustered.Â
âYou canât call me that Iâm not your girlfriend.â You sat down at the window so you were equal height with Peter on the other side. You grabbed at this hand and tried to uncurl his fingers on the wood.Â
âOh you like rubbing that in.â He watched as you tried to get him to release his grip but you were failing.Â
âPeter let go!â You reached your arm out to pull at his wrist.Â
âNo. I love you.âÂ
You pulled away and tucked your knees to your chest. You put your head down and started to cry, your shoulders shaking with each sob. Peter pulled the window open and let himself in, he sat down with you and wrapped his body around yours. You cried harder at his warmth, you turned around to press yourself into his neck.Â
âWhyâd you let me do that?â Your words were muffled in his shirt.Â
âBecause you had to.â He kissed your forehead and rested his head on yours.Â
Green flag number 1.
âCan I continue?â You nodded your head against his.Â
âI went to Baileyâs house. See, I had this great idea that if I told her what happened she would be empathetic and set it straight and then we would never talk again and me and you would get back together and the worst five hours of my life would be over. But something worse happened.âÂ
You sniffled and pushed him back with your hands on his chest. You looked over his face and neck, if he was here to tell you he hooked up with her you would lose it.Â
âWhat happened Peter?âÂ
He sighed and looked down. âYou were right.âÂ
âHuh?âÂ
âI know right? Here I go with my loud mouth saying you donât understand, but it was me babe. I didnât understand. You were right, you were so right.âÂ
âAbout what?âÂ
Peter leaned back on his arms, âShe wanted to bone me babe. Like right out the gate, I went over there heart in my hands. No light or soul left in me, just grasping at straws. I tell her you just dumped me with a capital D, no remorse, just a straight kill shot.â He smiled when he made you laugh, you wiped at your nose with a sleeve of his hoodie.Â
âAnd she goes, and I quote, âThank, God.â and I obviously, in pure shock. Just double knifed right now, punches from every side. I say, âwhat?â because there is no way I heard that right and she says it again. Then she said she hated you, which she said you were friends all along, and that you didnât deserve me. Then said I needed a rebound and so did she and this was actually a good thing if I think about it. Then she tried to actually bone me.â Peter concluded his rant.Â
âWhat did you do?â You looked at him and hoped he did the right thing.Â
âI barked at her.âÂ
You laughed and leaned forward to hit his arm, âNo you didnât.âÂ
âNo I didnât. I said some really, really mean things. Like, I defended your honor so hard sheâs gonna form a crush on you instead.â He smiled at you, he wanted to ask if everything was okay now.Â
Green flag number 2.Â
âHow mean?â You pushed him, youâve never seen Peter mean. He must have wished her coffee was always too sweet or too bitter, never just right. That's the most vicious you could imagine Peter getting.Â
He let out a puff of air.Â
âUh, something about being vile and being a shitty human and hoping she has the once in a lifetime kind of love you always dream of and she fucks it all up. Or something like that, I dunno itâs kinda blur.â He shrugged his shoulders and looked towards you.Â
Green flag number 3.
You pulled your head back in impressment.Â
âWow. Iâm lucky you spared my feelings when I totally crushed you after I slammed dumped you.âÂ
âGood one, babe.â He stuck his hand out for a fist bump.Â
âYou were totally heartless there. I mean I was crying like a baby and you stone cold just left. Now I know who the bad cop is gonna be when we have kids.â He poked fun and you turned your head at him.Â
âWeâre not getting back together, Peter.âÂ
Your words were ice. Peter felt frozen, he was sinking on the titanic. He figured it was okay now, you were talking like you were okay. Peter had a deer in headlights look and cleared his throat.Â
âUm, yeah. Of course, I really fucked that one up. I just wanted you to have closure.â He gave you a tight lipped smile and went to stand so he could make his exit.Â
You reached for his wrist and pulled him to keep him sitting.Â
âNo hard feelings?â You reached your hand out for a handshake. He started at your hand and shook it, he nodded at your words. âNo hard feelings.âÂ
Green flag number 4.Â
You let out a breath of fresh air.Â
âOh good. Donât get me wrong, youâre totally hot and smart and totally my type. I mean you make me laugh even when Iâm supposed to be mad at you and you always know how to fix our problems but I mean, Iâm still hung up on my ex. It wouldnât be fair to jump into a new relationship right now.âÂ
Peter nodded with your words.Â
âI understand. Iâm still not over my ex, she reminds me a lot like you. Beautiful, witty and just a dream stomper. I still love her actually.â He sighed and reminisced.Â
âI still love mine too.â You looked at him and felt like giving him the best kiss of your life.Â
âYou know if we're both hurting from our exâs we could just be each other's rebound. It works out perfect.âÂ
You leaned over and met him in a kiss. He made a surprised sound not expecting your move but grabbed your waist and pulled you into him. He opened his mouth into yours and deepened the kiss, he thought he wasnât going to be able to do this for a while. Not ever again though, he always knew he would win you back. You moved to straddle his waist, with your arms locked behind his head you pulled back from him and pecked his mouth.Â
âIâm sorry I broke up with you.â You whispered into his mouth.
âItâs okay. I deserved it.â He matched your tone.Â
Green flag number 5.Â
âIt was the worst five hours of my life. Let's never do that again.âÂ
Peter lent in to kiss you again, and again.Â
âDeal.âÂ
âNo really, it was traumatic.âÂ
Peter was kissing down your neck, he hummed and you pulled away with a shout.Â
âWas it? I think I was more traumatized. The love of my life broke up with me like it was nothing. I was a mess.âÂ
âNo, actually I had it worse. I mean you were begging me not to do it, I was the heartless monster that had to keep going and actually do it.âÂ
âI think you gave me trust issues.â He moved some hair behind your ear and you raised your eyebrows at him.Â
âOh I gave you trust issues?â Making sure to enunciate on the you.Â
âMhm. I see the error of my words.âÂ
You pressed your forehead against his and stilled. It was okay. Everything was okay.Â