spinnetossa is SUPERIOR

"bucky, can you grab my phone from my room?” you called out from the kitchen. “i need to check my texts again to make sure i didn’t ruin this first batch of muffins!”

"sure thing, doll!” he called back from the living room. you shivered at the nickname, which you scolded yourself for immediately after. he used it all the time; you should have been used to it by now. you weren’t.

you paused your stirring, listening for the squeak of leather that indicated that bucky had pushed himself up off the couch to go retrieve your phone for you. you heard it, followed by the so-faint-it-was-barely-audible padding of his feet on the hardwood, and went back to whipping up more batter for the next batch.

you were pretty certain that you hadn’t, in fact, completely ruined your first batch of muffins. you were a better baker than that! but the new recipe you’d just gotten for killer chocolate chip muffins came straight from your aunt, a downright marvelous baker, and you didn’t want to mess anything up; they had to be perfect.

which was precisely why your first batch, which you’d popped into the oven almost twenty minutes ago, consisted of only six muffins.

you hadn’t wanted to risk wasting all your ingredients only to find out that you’d forgotten one of the tips your aunt had given you and subsequently made your muffins taste subpar in comparison to hers.

you hummed to yourself as you stirred in more chocolate chips and waited for bucky to come back. your humming stretched on for what felt like forever, and yet still no bucky.

looking up at the timer above the stove, you found that it’d already been three minutes since you’d sent bucky to get your phone, which was strange. he knew where your room was because you lived on the same floor, which was only two floors above where you were now; it wasn’t like it was hard to get there and back. besides, he had super long legs and didn’t run out of breath quickly. what the hell was taking him so long?

you took the rubber spatula you were using to smooth the batter out and set it on top of the bowl before peaking your head out into the living room from the kitchen. what you found surprised you: bucky, standing in the middle of the room, scrolling through your phone and staring down at whatever he was doing intently.

it wasn’t the simple act of him going through your phone that surprised - and confused - you. you were best friends (a title he’d been quick to assure you had more than enough room for both you and steve), after all; he knew your passcode by heart, and you his, though you generally didn’t fiddle with his phone, seeing as he still wasn’t very familiar with modern day technology and wouldn’t know how to undo anything you changed. no, you were surprised because he hadn’t come into the kitchen to make sure you checked what you needed to before stealing your phone away from you. he always made sure you checked your phone before stealing it away from you. something about this didn’t add up. 

“bucky?” you asked, and his head snapped up so quickly it gave you the impression that you’d startled him. “whatchya doin’? i need my phone to check the recipe.”

he rolled his eyes. “please, doll, i’m sure you got the recipe right. when have you not gotten a recipe right?”

you chose not to bring up the time you’d made oatmeal cookies for the team. no one needed to relive that experience.

“my phone, buck,” you whined instead, walking out into the living room.

“well, you see,” he started, and you raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going. it was never good when bucky barnes started off a sentence with ‘well, you see’. “i actually found something pretty interesting on your phone when i opened it, y/n.”

“oh?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, even as your lungs fell into your stomach and your heart jumped up into your throat. you hoped he wasn’t talking about what you thought he was talking about. you tried to think back to what app you’d been using before coming down to bake, if you’d closed it, if you’d clicked out of it at all or not. you didn’t remember closing it or clicking out of it, but you sure did remember what app you’d been on: tumblr.

bucky hummed in affirmation. “yep. you were open to some wonderful writing, doll.”

you gulped. oh god, he found it. “really?”

bucky tried to suppress a smile as he said, “mhm. really wonderful writing. about me.” you wanted to die. he knew. god, this was a mess. “and i know i don’t really know anythin’ about the internet, but i know enough to’ve figured out that the account it was on is yours, huh, doll?”

you knew that you weren’t really bright red right now, but you definitely felt bright red. your face was burning, and your fingers were throbbing with the force of the heat rolling down your neck and into your arms. this was a mess. bucky had found the fanfiction you’d written about him. he probably figured out that you were in love with him just from reading it, too, and was bringing it up with you now to tell you that he was both utterly creeped out and didn’t love you the way he’d discovered you desperately wanted him to.

“i, i, uh - erm -” you stammered, blinking up at him rapidly to keep the tears that were pricking at the backs of your eyes at bay. “i . . . i’m really sorry, bucky.”

you lowered your head and cast your eyes downward, feeling like a child who had just been severely scolded - except this was worse, because bucky, your best friend and the man you were in love with, had just found the one thing you never wanted him to find.

“why’re you sorry, doll? the writing’s good!” you snapped your head up immediately at that, wincing from the force of the movement.

“it’s what?” you asked, incredulous.

“it’s good, doll,” he repeated. he seemed sincere. “though i don’t remember secretly pining over anyone named ‘whyenn’.”

despite the horrifying situation you were in, you couldn’t help but laugh at how he pronounced ‘y/n’. bucky let a grin slowly take over his face at the sound of your laughter.

“that’s because it’s fanfiction, buck. nothing i wrote about in whatever piece of mine you read actually happened,” you told him. you knew he knew what fanfiction was because of the time he’d caught you crying over a deamus fic and you’d had to explain what it was to him. you’d never told him anything about reader insert fanfiction, though - for a very good reason. that reason being, of course, because it was the kind of fanfiction you wrote.

“i figured,” he said. “but i had no idea that anyone would want to write fanfiction about me. or that you were such a great writer, y/n.”

the panic that was tearing at the inside of your chest subsided a bit, both because of his compliment and because he was taking this whole thing very well considering he clearly knew how you felt about him now and clearly didn’t feel the same way.

“a lot of people want to write fanfiction about you, bucky,” you told him. “you’re kind of a big thing on sites that are popular for fanfiction. so’s the rest of the team.” why were you telling him this? oh, that’s right: because you just never knew when to shut up.

both of bucky’s eyebrow’s raised at that. “oh really?” he was still grinning. “do you write stuff about the rest of the team, too?”

you looked away. “sometimes, yeah. but you can’t tell them!” you conveniently failed to mention that it was generally only when your readers sent in requests for something with another member of the team that you wrote for them.

“i mostly write stuff about you, though,” you added, before you could stop yourself. god, how you wanted the floor to tear open and swallow you whole right then.

“yeah?” the amusement was plain in bucky’s voice. “i won’t tell them, but am i your favorite member of the team, doll?”

you moved your eyes back to his before saying earnestly, “you are, bucky. really. it’s easiest to write things about you. because you’re my best friend,” you added quickly. maybe if you said it enough, you could distract him from the fact he’d discovered that you saw him as much, much more than just a best friend.

“easier to write about me?” he echoed, cocking his head to right like an adorable puppy.

“well, yeah,” you said, avoiding his eyes again. “i know you. i know how you talk and how you react to things and how sweet and caring and lovable you are. i know how much time it took for you to get to where you are now, to be in a place where you’re not constantly sad and . . . and terrified. i know everything about you, buck. it’s easy to translate that into writing.”

your eyes met again as you finished, and for a terribly drawn out moment, it appeared as if you’d rendered him speechless.

“wow, doll,” he breathed finally, his eyes soft. “i don’t know what to say other than i love you.”

now it was your turn to be left speechless. “i, you - what? do you really?” you tried not to get your hopes up, but it was hard when bucky was standing in front of you, looking so at ease and so, so breathtakingly beautiful.

for a second you thought you’d seen bucky’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but you blinked and they were normally sized once again, and bucky’s brow had furrowed. “well yeah,” he said. “you’re my best friend - of course i love you.”

you swallowed all that hope and let it sink miserably down to the pit of your stomach. of course. of course that was what he meant. you knew that you’d just said the same thing, but how could he say that he loved you when he clearly knew how you felt. unless . . .

no. you couldn’t entertain the thought that maybe he hadn’t realized just how much you loved him. it was glaringly obvious in everything you wrote about him. bucky was smart; there was no way he hadn’t figured it out.

you opened your mouth as if to speak, though you had no idea what to say. luckily, though, bucky cut in before it could become obvious to him that you weren’t, in fact, going to say anything. “do you mind if i read some more?”

“you - if you . . . what?”

“read more, doll,” he said again, smiling. “your writing’s good! i want to read more of it.”

“you want to read more . . . of my fanfiction . . . about you?” you asked, disbelieving. he laughed at the look on your face.

“yes, doll. that’s exactly what i want.”

you shifted your weight from one leg to the other uneasily. did you really want to let him read more of your writing? you knew if you said no, he’d respect your decision and leave it alone. but where was the harm, really? he’d already read one piece of yours, a one shot, probably. bucky was always sweet and kind, and thankfully hadn’t mentioned the painfully obvious: that you were very, incredibly, wholeheartedly in love with him. what else did you have to lose?

“sure, buck,” you said hesitantly. you couldn’t believe you were agreeing to this. “you can read more of what i wrote.”

bucky gave a cheerful shout, and you couldn’t help but smile; his happiness was contagious, even in the most minute of ways.

“BUT,” you added, matching his volume momentarily before taking it back down. “i need my phone back to check on this recipe first.”

bucky rolled his eyes, but handed you your phone anyway. “fine,” he said, a mock pout gracing his lips.

you unlocked your phone and quickly clicked out of tumblr before you could rethink your decision. you opened your texts as you turned around and made your way back to the kitchen, bucky following close behind. you scrolled through the conversation with your aunt to find the tips she’d given you, and mentally checked off the ones you’d done as you went down the list.

when you were finished, all the tips had been mentally checked off, and you smiled, pleased with yourself. you turned to face bucky, who was already looking at you expectantly, and handed him back your phone.

though he looked like he wanted to run off right then and there with the device, he stayed a moment to ask, “so? did you do everything right?”

you nodded, the little proud smile still on your face. he grinned at you. “see, what’d i tell you, doll?” he said. “now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be in the living room, reading.” he turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the kitchen.

you sighed and let yourself lean against the counter. hopefully this wouldn’t blow up in your face.

twenty minutes later and your first batch of muffins were cooling on top of the stove as you popped two more full sheets into the oven.

when you were finished, you wiped your hands on a dish towel and inhaled a deep, deep breath, before letting the air out in a heavy sigh. your next batch of muffins wouldn’t be done for another 40 minutes, and there was no need to make more batter, because you already had plenty ready for the third batch (because lord knows the team wouldn’t be satisfied with just twenty-four chocolate chip muffins).

your only other option was to go out into the living room and face bucky.

setting the dish towel down and steeling yourself, you walked out into the living room, where you found bucky sitting on one of the couches, fully engrossed in whatever he was reading on your phone (or rather, which of your fanfictions he was reading on your phone, you reminded yourself).

as you drew closer, you were able to make out fading tear tracks on bucky’s cheeks, and you nearly choked on your own spit. had he found the rest of your writing so horrible that he’d cried over it?

bucky tore his eyes away from the screen like it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do and looked up at you, his wide eyes full of a peculiar mix of heartbreak and wonder, with a dash of something you couldn’t quite place.

“how could you kill her, y/n?” was the first thing he said to you, his voice very close to a whimper. he looked absolutely devastated.

while you knew he had to be talking about something you’d written, you couldn’t help but say, “what?” in response.

“you killed her,” bucky said, as if that cleared everything up. “you killed her when i’d just gotten her back and, and - and i promised to marry her, y/n! marry her! and you still killed her! how could you do this to me, y/n?”

you blinked. “bucky,” you said, very slowly, “are you talking about 'good grief’?”

“‘am i talking about ‘good grief’’,” bucky mimicked. “of course i’m talking about ‘good grief’! what else would i be talking about?”

‘good grief’ was a series you were in the middle of working on, with a central plot point - and the series title - coming from bastille’s song of the same name. it was an au in which bucky hadn’t been taken by hydra, and it was one of your best-written pieces in your own opinion. it appeared that bucky thought so, too, if he was getting this worked up about the reader insert’s apparent death.

“so i take it you like it, then?”

bucky straightened up. “like it?” he asked. “no, i don’t like it. i absolutely hate it!”

hearing that immediately made you feel sick. god, how stupid to were you to think that bucky would actually like what you’d written, whether he thought whatever he’d read first had been good or not. before you could say anything, bucky continued.

“my heart is broken! utterly and entirely shattered, doll. how could you do this to me? your writing is so, so, so . . .” he appeared as if he were struggling to find the right words. “gut-wrenchingly beautiful and my heart is real fuckin’ hurt, doll.”

you were startled by his outburst. “i - what? you think my writing’s beautiful?”

bucky rolled his eyes, suddenly exasperated. “yes, doll, i think your writing’s beautiful. it’s wonderful. how many times do i have to tell you that?”

“as many times as you’d like,” you said before you could stop yourself. you were rewarded by the quirking down of the corners of bucky’s lips that indicated he was trying to suppress a smile.

“then i’ll tell you all the time, y/n/n.”

“how . . . how much did you read?” you asked fiddling with your fingers as an excuse to not make eye contact.

“everything,” he said immediately, and you looked up, shocked. you hadn’t expected him to want to read your writing that much.

“er, everything about me,” he clarified. somehow, that was infinitely worse.

“oh,” was all you said as you went back to avoiding eye contact.

“actually, i had a question about your writing, doll.”

you looked up at that. “oh?” you gulped, preparing for the worst.

“yeah,” bucky said. “why is everything you write about me full of longing?”

you were stunned. “i - what?”

“well it’s just,” bucky continued, “that while i was reading, i noticed that the topic of pining is really prevalent in what you write about me. even when it’s not central to the plot, like in those - what are they called? ‘one shots’? yeah - one shots, you always mention pining and longing.”

you didn’t know what to say. you knew bucky, and you knew when he was genuinely asking a question he didn’t know the answer to (he wasn’t a very good actor). which was why you knew that his question was sincere, that he really had no idea why you included near-excessive pining in everything you wrote about him. had no idea that you included it because you were pining after him just as hopelessly as your reader inserts were.

and that meant . . . that meant that he really didn’t know that you were in love with him. he hadn’t been avoiding bringing it up to spare you the embarrassment; he hadn’t realized in the first place!

a huge wave of relief built up inside you, washing away the panic that was still tucked into your chest, but with it came an equally sized wave of disappointment. part of you, you supposed, had hoped that bucky would take you in his arms after reading the rest of your fanfiction and kiss you senseless before telling you that he’d always loved you just the same way you loved him. that he’d always been in love with you.

but of course, that was just a fantasy, too much like fanfiction to ever have a hope of becoming a reality.

you didn’t know what to say, but there bucky was, blinking up at you oh so innocently from his seat on the couch as he patiently waited for an answer, and so you said the only thing you could say: the truth.

“there’s so much . . . pining and longing because . . . i have a lot of experience with pining.”

well, as much of the truth as you could bear to reveal to him, anyway.

“but um, unlike . . . in my writing, the person i’m pining after doesn’t love me back.”

maybe it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn something dark and hurting passed over bucky’s eyes when you said that, but a second later the look was gone. instead, bucky was cocking his head to the side as his brow furrowed. “what do you mean, doll?”

you sighed. “i mean,” you started as you sat down next to him on the couch, “exactly what i said. i love someone, but they don’t love me back.” you paused and thought for a moment before continuing. “well, i shouldn’t say that. i know he loves me. but just . . . not the way i want him to.”

when you’d sat down, your eyes had focused themselves on the edge of the accent rug that lay in front of the couch, and as you lifted them to meet bucky’s after your pseudo-confession, you found his whole body turned towards you.

bucky was still sporting that confused look on his face when he said, “how could anyone not love you like that?” so soft and breathless, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all. his eyes searched your face as if he were looking for an answer to his question and all you could do was stare at him, silent and frozen.

god, if he kept this stuff up, you were going to explode from all the yearning that was building up inside of you.

bucky’s gaze connected with yours again, and it was as if something in your eyes had snapped him out of whatever haze he’d been in, because a millisecond later he was looking away and clearing his throat.

“so that’s why -” he said, as if whatever had just happened hadn’t happened, “- you write in so much pining when you’re writing about me?”

god, he was so clueless. and as much as you wanted to tell him that the person you were in love with was him, that it would always be him because he was strong and brave and kind and so, so breathtakingly beautiful, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. you didn’t think you could stand to be in the same room with him ever again if you told him and he smiled that pretty smile at you, all soft and sweet and pitiful, right before letting you down gently and saying that he’d always want you as his best friend no matter what happened. which really fucking sucked, because you didn’t know what you’d do without bucky.

“yeah,” you said. “like i said, it’s just . . . so much easier to write things when they’re about you. easier to . . . transfer my feelings to someone else when that someone else is . . . you.” you winced at the lie, but if bucky noticed, he didn’t mention it.

in fact, he was quiet for what felt like a long, long time before looking up at you and saying, “well, doll, whoever this guy is, he’s an idiot for not loving you. for not being in love with you.”

you gave him a soft smile that was tinged with melancholy. “thanks, buck.”

he nodded. “who is he?”

“what?” you hadn’t expected that. you probably should have, though, given how much bucky cared about your life and your feelings, but the extent to which he cared still surprised you sometimes; you didn’t really think you deserved it.

“who is he?” bucky repeated, eyes alight with curiosity and that other emotion you still couldn’t name. “i want to know who the guy is that’s got my best friend all hopelessly in love.”

“i . . . don’t know, buck . . .”

“you don’t want to tell me?”

“it’s not that i . . . don’t want to tell you, i just . . .” you were lost, searching for anything to say that would get bucky to lay off. “i don’t like thinking about it, is all.”

for some reason, that seemed to anger bucky. “oh, so you can think about it when you use it for writing inspiration all you want, but when your best friend wants to know, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to think about it? is that it?” he asked, eyes suddenly cold.

“no, that’s not it,” you tried to assure him, though you knew that that was exactly what you were implying. “bucky, it’s alright. it’s just a friend. you don’t know him.”

this just angered him all the more.

“i know all your friends, though, y/n. are you telling me you’re hiding this fella away from me, doll?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows and that cold, hard stare. “too afraid he won’t like me? or too afraid he won’t like you when he finds out just how well you really know me?”

you were shocked by bucky’s questions. where had this come from?

“what? absolutely not. i’m not ashamed of you, bucky.”

“oh, aren’t you?” he snapped.

you stared at him from where you were on the edge of the couch, incredulous. how could he think that you were ashamed of him?

“no, i’m NOT, bucky. and besides, it’s none of your business! you don’t have to know all of my friends!”

“as your best friend, it is my business! but haha, right, i can’t really be your best friend if you’re ashamed of me!”

“bucky barnes, i AM NOT ASHAMED OF YOU! how could i ever be ashamed of you? i love you!” you were barely containing yourself then, and had to force your voice down after it’d gotten far louder than you’d wanted it to.

bucky, though, it seemed, either didn’t have the same control that you did or simply didn’t care, because the next thing you knew he was shouting, “then TELL ME WHO HE IS!”

“LEAVE IT ALONE, BUCKY,” you yelled back, propelling yourself off the couch so you could match his volume.

a second later and bucky was on his own feet, too, right in front of you. “NO! I WANT TO KNOW!”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE IT ALONE, JAMES?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” he roared.

as quickly as it had come, your anger vanished. and suddenly, as if it had been the only thing keeping you up, your whole body sagged. all of the anger that had been overflowing inside of you had left you thoroughly exhausted, and your outrage at bucky’s own outrage was quickly replaced by a growing sense of disbelief. he’d told you he loved you before, of course - he’d said it near the beginning of your conversation! - but there was something in his voice, something in the way he said it, that made you think he meant it differently this time. that he meant it the way you did.

“wha - what?”

“i love you. i’m in love with you.”

there were tears stinging the backs of your eyes as you said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “don’t play with me, bucky.” you were looking up at him, eyes wide and equal parts hopeful and horrified.

“i’m not playing with you,” came bucky’s reply, his own voice soft. “i would never play with you like that, doll.”

you searched his eyes, which were glossed over with unshed tears the same way you knew yours were, and found only sincerity in his intense stare. sincerity, and that something else you’d seen before, which you were recognizing now as . . . adoration. still, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“but, bucky, i’m . . .”

“in love with someone else? i know. i figured as much when i read everything you wrote.” he looked away and stepped back.

“you what?” it seemed that all you’d been asking today was ‘what?’

“knew you were in love with someone else when i was reading all that stuff you wrote about me. there’s no way you would’ve been writing all that yearning crap with me originally in mind, doll. i know that. and yet, i . . . i couldn’t stop thinking about that whyenn character being you.”

you stared at him. and stared, and stared, and stared. you felt the tears dripping down your face, but didn’t move to wipe them away. instead, you continued to stare, until finally bucky looked up at you, looking as devastated as you’d ever seen him.

“you’re so dense, bucky. oblivious. a moron. an absolute imbecile,” you whispered.

for a moment, anger flashed across bucky’s face as his eyebrows furrowed, before being replaced by an even deeper hurt. “god, doll, i know you don’t feel that way about me, but you don’t have to -”

“i lied,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “i lied. it’s not someone you don’t know. i’m not in love with someone you don’t know, buck.”

bucky blinked. “listen, doll, i really don’t want to hear about how you’re actually in love with steve or sam and just wrote stuff about me in case they -”

“jesus, bucky, i’m talking about you!” you cried. “i’m in love with you!”

bucky’s mouth dropped open, and all he could do is stare at you. “i - you - what?”

“i’m in love with you, and i have been for so, so long. else c’mon, buck. why else would i write all that ‘yearning crap' about you?”

bucky, still gaping like a fish, said, “i don’t . . . i mean, it never occurred to me that you could . . . actually think of me like that . . .”

“and i thought you knew! i thought you’d figured it out the second i realized what you were reading! it was so obvious!”

bucky huffed. “clearly not obvious enough.”

a huffed laugh spilled past your lips. “you’re so oblivious.”

bucky gave you a small, sweet smile as he took a step closer to you. “so you’ve said, doll.”

you stood there, silently staring into each others eyes until: “can i kiss you, doll?” bucky’s voice was cautious and impossibly soft, and positively it made you melt.

“of course,” you whispered, and as soon as the words had left your lips he was there, his lips on yours as his hands came up to cradle your face gently. your eyes slid closed, and you moved your hands up to get a grip his shirt and pull him closer. you could hardly think straight because of how good finally getting to kiss bucky felt, but one thought kept running through your head as if on loop: his lips felt absolutely perfect on yours. like he was made for you.

the two of you broke away for air, and as your eyes fluttered open and met his, something else was clear in your jumbled brain: bucky barnes had effectively ruined you for anyone else.

the spell that you were under was broken, though, when bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and said, “all those feelings you wrote into your fanfiction were about me. that sure is a lot of pining and longing for one person, doll.”

you’re woken by the warm sensation of mid-morning sunlight on your face, and you lazily peel your eyes open to find the curtains covering the window in your dorm room thrown wide open.

you push yourself up in bed and let loose a very loud yawn as you stretch to get rid of that dreadful stiffness that comes with sleeping in. you figure you must’ve slept in, anyway, despite the watter

a glance at the clock above the door tells you that you were in fact right. it reads 11:32, meaning that you’d missed breakfast this morning. but it’s alright, because it’s saturday, and it is a well-known fact around hogwarts that many students popped into the kitchen on weekends to pick something up in place of whatever meal they’d missed.

slipping out of bed, you yawn and stretch one last time, before going to your trunk at the foot of the bed. you rummage around through it, trying to pick something to wear. on the one hand, it was saturday, which meant you could dress as comfy as you liked - on the other hand, though, you may run into charlie, and there was a part of you that really wanted to try and impress him.

it isn’t like you need to, you remind yourself as you settle on a plain sweatshirt. you two are already dating, had been dating for six months now. six months, to the day, you think happily, setting the sweatshirt back into your trunk and picking up a nice button up instead. you could definitely tuck that into something, and look cute and put together for your six month anniversary.

they’d been a nearly perfect sixth months, with every moment you shared with charlie being better than the last, even when you two argued.

it hadn’t been feeling very perfect lately, though. for the past week or so, charlie had been avoiding you. he was quick to leave any room you were both in within five minutes if he could get away with it, and he kept making up excuses during meals to sit with his friends on the gryffindor quidditch team and not with you and nymphadora tonks at the hufflepuff table. he’d even taken to pairing with one of the gryffindor team beaters during potions instead of with you.

all of that, coupled with the fact that he’d been stumbling a lot through the conversations he had had with you this week (which was very un-charlie-like of him), left you worrying about the possibility that maybe charlie wanted to break up with you.

you worry at your bottom lip at the thought, picking up the lip balm on your bedside table and applying it to keep yourself from doing it. calm down, y/n, you chided yourself. it’s charlie. he would just tell you if he wanted to break up with you. wouldn’t he?

you shake your head to clear it of the dreadful thoughts you’re having, but you fold the button up back up anyway, choosing to wear the sweatshirt instead. you dress and brush your teeth quickly, slip your wand into your pocket, and head out the door and down the stairs into the gryffindor common room.

and who do you find sitting in a chair facing the staircase you’ve just come down? none other than your very own charlie weasley, of course.

you start in surprise when you realize that it is, in fact, him sitting there, and his whole body seems to perk up when he sees you, which startles you even more. though you really weren’t that concerned about it, you definitely hadn’t expected him to be so eager to see you, given the events of the past week.

“y/n!” he shouts, and he’s out of the chair and on his feet in front of you in seconds. he’s grinning, wide and goofy and perfect, and despite your confusion you can’t help but smile a little too.

“charlie,” you say breathlessly, clearing your throat when you hear how you sound. “i mean, um - what are you doing here ?”

he tilts his head to the side, like a puppy. confused. some of his hair falls into his face and over his eyes, and you resist the urge to brush it away. just in case.

“what do you mean what am i doing here? this is my common room, too, you know! i’m - was - waiting for you, love.”

your brows furrow. “for me?”

“of course! now come on, i have something to show you!” and with that he grabs you by the hand and pulls you to the portrait hole, opening it and practically shoving you outside with his free hand. he lets the portrait door slam closed (much to the fat lady’s displeasure) and then he takes off running down the hall, dragging you along with him.

you yelp as the two of you race down corridors and around corners, only slowing to go down staircases - but not by much, seeing as how you’d tripped over your own feet nearly fifteen times going down the first one.

by the time charlie finally slows to a stroll, you’re panting very loudly. you’d just woken up, for godric’s sake! how did he expect you to keep up with him under those conditions? curse charlie and his unnaturally long legs and apparently large lung capacity.

you’re in the entrance way now, nearing the great big front doors of hogwarts - and the door to the great hall, too. you turn your head and tug on charlie’s hand as you pass. you need an early lunch after sleeping in so late, after all. but charlie simply tugs on your own hand harder, sending you stumbling forward and closer to his side. when you look up at him with a pout, he shakes his head, his messy red hair flying up in all directions, and smiles at you.

“you’ll get lunch soon enough, don’t worry,” he tells you as he tugs you out the doors and down the stone path leading onto the lawn. it’s chilly out, and the sky overhead is full of gray clouds.

you huff. “charlie, where are we going?”

he’s still smiling wide as he looks down at you and says, “you’ll see.” he looks about ready to burst with excitement.

you huff again, but don’t ask anymore questions. instead, you shiver and look up at the sky warily. it looks as if it’s going to rain, and while you don’t particularly mind rain, you’re hungry and still partially worried about the possibility of charlie breaking up with you - in short, not in the mood to be rained on.

charlie tugs you closer as you shiver, letting go of your hand to loop his arm through yours before lacing your fingers together again. you suppress a smile at the contact; okay, so maybe you really had been getting much too far into your head thinking that charlie wanted to break up with you. that still didn’t explain him avoiding you, though.

after walking for around ten minutes, you reach the bottom of a hill higher than most on the right side of the black lake, and charlie turns to you, another one of his wide, perfect grins lighting up his face.

“come on, y/n/n!” he says as he untangles his arm from yours only to grab your hand and start pulling you along again instead. “we’re nearly there!”

charlie breaks into a sprint, and you grunt as you have to run with him to avoid falling down. when the two of you reach the crest of the hill, you’re out of breath and your calves are burning, but you still manage to gasp at what you see before you.

at the base of the hill, spread out over the grass under the shade of a large oak tree, is a lovely picnic.

your lips part in awe, and relief floods through your whole body. your shoulders slump, and tears burn at the back of your eyes. but it’s a good slump, and they’re good tears; charlie isn’t the type of person to do something like this for someone he likes the way he likes you, which meant that he definitely 100% wasn’t breaking up with you after all.

charlie squeezes your hand gently to steal your attention away from the beautiful picnic. “do you like it?” he asks, uncharacteristically nervous. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, and you throw your head back and let it out.

“of course i like it, you doofus!” you exclaim when your laughter subsides. you throw yourself at him, practically tackling him in a hug. “i love it! did you do all this?”

“yeah,” he tells you as he pulls away, eyes alight with a joy that makes your heart flutter. “for our anniversary, love.”

“is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” of course it was; you knew very well that charlie couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. (except for that very important secret that was that he loved you as more than a friend, which he’d managed to keep for nearly a year before telling you. but that was a whole other story.)

charlie looks sheepish, and he leans back into your embrace. “yeah. wanted it to be a surprise, love,” he murmurs into you hair.

“part of me honestly thought you wanted to break up with me,” you tell him, voice muffled in his shoulder. he pulls back immediately upon hearing this, holding you at arms length by the shoulders.

“you what?”

you laugh in place of an answer, but charlie looks concerned, so you say, “well, what was i supposed to think! you were avoiding me! you kept ditching me in class and you weren’t sitting with dora and i during meals!”

“well, you’re supposed to have more faith in me than that, darling!”

“darling?” you ask, grabbing his arm and tugging him back towards you and a little farther down the hill. “that’s new.”

“i was trying it out.” he hums as he lets you guide him down the slope and to the picnic that’s spread out over a spare comforter in gryffindor colors that charlie must’ve taken from the boy’s dorms. “do we like it?”

you plop yourself down in front of the picnic basket at the center of the blanket and pull him along with you. “i could get used to it.”

he reaches into the basket and brings out two butterbeers, passing one to you. he reaches around the basket and hands you a plate with one hand while balancing a platter of sandwiches on the other. he holds the platter out to you and you take two sandwiches with a smile. after all, what’s the point of a picnic if you aren’t going to stuff yourself with food?

you talk and laugh together as you eat. charlie had brought chocolate frogs, blood pops, and plenty of other candy from honeydukes, as well as treacle tart and macaroni and cheese and a small pot of roasted vegetables. the pair of you are halfway through your third slices of treacle tart when you feel the first droplets of rain come down through the leaves above you.

“it’s nothing to worry about,” charlie says around a mouthful of tart. and he’s right; it really isn’t. but just minutes later as you’re unwrapping a chocolate frog, the rain starts coming down heavier, and you look out into the sky to see that the clouds have gotten grayer since you last checked.

“maybe we should start packing up,” you say as you turn your eyes to the vegetables that are open in front of you. you watch as the pot they’re in fills with water.

charlie sighs. “yeah, okay. you’re right, as usual.”

you grin at him. “remember that the next time we take a charms quiz.”

you pile everything back into the basket, though you leave a chocolate frog out to unwrap on your way back to the castle.

“it’s a shame you didn’t bring an umbrella, love,” you say to charlie, and he gives you a playful glare as he stands up, the basket sitting in the crook of his elbow.

“well i’m sorry i don’t have foresight, darling.”

you laugh, loud and full of delight, and you move forward so that you’re standing so close to charlie. he looks at you, spellbound, like you’re the only thing in the universe, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you push yourself up to meet his lips with yours. the kiss is soft and full of love, so breathtaking that you don’t care that his shirt and your sweatshirt are both soaked through with rainwater.

when you pull away, charlie is smiling down at you lopsidedly. “the castle’s too far away, and it’s raining too hard,” he says. “we should go to hagrid’s instead. we haven’t visited in awhile.”

you nod along as he talks, and look around for hagrid’s hut. you spot it not far from where the two of you are, and you grab charlie’s hand in yours. “come on!” you call as you begin to jog through the rain. now it was your turn to drag him along after you.

you reach the cozy cottage after a few minutes - which feels like much too long to you - of sloshing through the wet grass, and by the time you slow to a stop you’re giggling.

"thank you for today,” you tell charlie as you turn to face him. you move closer so that you can once again wrap your arms around his neck again. “it was very sweet of you.”

he leans down to kiss you. “well, i’m a very sweet person,” he says against your lips, making you laugh.

“i know,” you tell him as you break away from him and head up the steps to hagrid’s front door. he follows closely behind. “that’s why i love you.”

he hums as you knock twice. “i love you too, darling.”

robin peaked out from scoops ahoy's kitchen to get a look at the line.

shit, she thought. there, third from the front, was y/n.

robin had known it was her as soon as she'd heard her tinkling laugh; she'd know that laugh anywhere. she'd been hoping against hope that it wasn't her, but apparently luck was not on her side today, because there was y/n in all her ethereal beauty.

she can’t be here today! not today! why today?

last night my fantasies became oh-so true you said you wanted me as much as i want you if i said it hadn't crossed my mind then oh baby, i'd be lying it just got complicated, i don't know what to do

seeing y/n in scoops ahoy wouldn’t have been so much of a problem if it wasn’t for the dream robin had had the previous night. the dream about her.

in the dream, y/n had told her that she was in love with her, despite what she knew everyone else would say about it, and that she wanted to be with her. really be with her, with all the mushy cheek kisses and hand-holding crap that robin typically hated. and dream-robin had been eating that shit up; boy, had she been eating it up.

robin had thought about y/n like that before, sure - would even go so far as to say that she had a crush on the girl - but had never felt for her as powerfully as she did in that dream. had never felt so full of hopeless longing for her that she was ready to burst. had never felt the way she’d felt for tammy thompson for anyone else since graduating.

she’d been unprepared, then, for the slew of emotions that startled her awake, and was even more unprepared to see y/n today. seeing her made things complicated - more complicated than they already were - and robin didn’t think she could handle that.

can i get it like that, that, that ? lemme know ‘cause i really like that, that, that when you go and i know it’s not real, but the way that i feel i just need to know ( know, know, know )

she knew so very well that it had just been a dream, that it wasn't real, and that y/n was the kind of girl that attracted - and was attracted to - guys. the kind of girl who didn’t like girls the way robin did.

but that didn’t stop robin from wanting her with the entirety of her being. she wanted someone as kind, as curious, as intelligent, as beautiful - both inside and out - as y/n was.

and even though it had been a dream, robin desperately wanted what y/n had said in that dream to have been true.

realizing that she had been staring, robin pulled her head out of sight quickly. god, she hoped no one had seen her staring, because what would they say about her then, if anyone’d seen her looking at y/n the way she had been? very unfriendly and anti-gay things, robin was sure of it.

falling against the wall next to the kitchen door, robin let herself replay the dream from the previous night in her head. god, it really had been a wonderful dream . . .

in my dreams you'd say you need me, believe me in my dreams you'd say you love me, say you'll never leave my dreams in my dreams

robin had been asleep for at least a good hour and a half when she heard the click, click, click on the glass of her bedroom window. her hearing was still fuzzy from sleep, but somehow she knew exactly what the sound that had woken her was.

she sat up and pushed her covers off with a grumble, eyes still half-lidded. her feet touched her bedroom floor, and in less than a second robin was standing in front of her window, which was funny, seeing as she didn’t recall taking any steps.

she rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her left hand so that she could properly see, while her right reached up to push the curtain to the side. robin blinked her eyes open when she was through and looked out into the darkness of the night. 

her eyes bugged out of her head when she saw y/n standing on the grass beneath her window, hand full of pebbles from the neighbors’ yard, sporting a smile that was somehow shy and devilish all in one.

she had clearly seen robin pull the curtain open, judging by the look on her face, but she didn’t seem to care enough to stop the next pebble - it hit robin’s window with a soft click.

cursing under her breath and not bothering to dwell on the fact that she was pretty sure y/n had no clue where she lived, robin pushed the window up as quietly as she could and stuck her head out to glare down at the girl below her.

"y/n?" robin whisper-shouted, trying her best not to wake up her parents. "what the hell are you doing here? it's 1:30 in the morning!" she hadn’t checked the time when she’d gotten out of bed, but somehow she knew that that was the correct time.

y/n just continued to grin up at her. the pebbles were no longer in her hand. y/n raised her eyebrows in a clear question, and robin felt something in her gut pulling her towards her closet.

she let it drag her there, and opened the closet door to find a rope ladder she didn’t remember having piled on the floor.

in the blink of an eye robin was back by the window, opening it all the way and throwing the rope ladder down to y/n. it was almost as if y/n hadn’t had to climb at all, because by robin’s next blink she was at the top of the rope ladder, grinning at her from outside.

“hey robin,” y/n said softly as she climbed though the window. her grin had softened now; she looked more like the y/n robin was used to. she found herself relaxing.

instead of greeting her as well, robin grumbled, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“what question?”

robin rolled her eyes. “the ‘what are you doing here?’ question, dingus,” she said.

“oh, that,” y/n replied. a tinkling laugh that sent shivers up robin’s spine followed. “i came here tonight to tell you something," she said, stepping closer.

robin gulped, and though she wanted to look down at the floor to avoid eye contact, it was like her eyes were glued to y/n; she was unable to take them off of her, no matter how hard she tried. she was frozen in place, with nothing to do but watch the pretty girl in front of her.

“o-oh?” she asked, voice catching in her throat. she mentally cursed herself and her inability to keep it cool.

“yeah,” came y/n’s reply, voice barely above a whisper. she was getting ever closer, though it was taking much longer than robin knew it should have; time was very, very wonky.

but then she blinked, and there was y/n, standing so close to her that they were sharing breath.

"and what is it you came to tell me, n/n?" robin sounded just as breathless as she felt. she glanced from y/n’s eyes down to her lips and back up again. "what's so important that you couldn't wait 'til tomorrow to tell me?"

y/n was silent for a long, drawn out moment, and a sick feeling began to gnaw  away at robin’s stomach. she knew that if y/n didn't tell her whatever it was soon, she probably never would, and she would miss out on something great.

“i came to tell you that i need you,” y/n breathed, and robin felt her head begin to spin.

robin was astonished. “what?” she croaked, voice catching on the vowel. she hadn’t been expecting y/n to say that. “what do you mean, you need me?”

“i mean exactly what i said. i need you robin.” robin’s eyes were frozen on y/n’s, and she watched as y/n’s gaze flickered down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting hers again. “i need you so, so much.”

“i don’t understand,” robin replied, and the thinness of her own voice surprised her. she was vaguely aware that head was beginning to hurt, too; a dull, barely-there throb at the base of her neck. y/n was blurring at the edges now, as if robin’s vision was sliding in and out of focus.

“i’m in love with you.”

robin sucked in a quick, sharp breath at that. her head was pounding now, and her blood was rushing in her ears. “i - what?”

y/n rolled her eyes. she would’ve looked exasperated if it wasn’t for the fond smirk that graced her lips. in a flash, y/n was standing impossibly closer, and robin had just enough time to wonder why her soft palm was cupping her cheek before she kissed her.

robin didn’t even remember closing her eyes, but the next thing she knew, light was exploding behind her eyelids, and a pleasant warm, fuzzy feeling was crawling it’s way up and settling itself in her belly. kissing y/n was nice. she tasted like lemon and cherry, and her lips were cool and soft against robin’s, which were warm and chapped.

just as robin was beginning to melt into the kiss, though, a loud crash sounded from somewhere down the hall from her room. robin jumped away from y/n, turning to stare at her closed door. her previously fuzzy eyesight had cleared up, and she could see her door in stunning clarity. it was almost too clear.

“i should probably go,” y/n said, and robin whipped back around to face her.

“what? why?”

“because i don’t want to get you in trouble with your parents for having a friend sneak over in the middle of the night, and i don’t want my parents figuring out i’m gone.”

robin knew that this was logical, but couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “friend?”

y/n’s eyebrows drew together in confusion for a moment, and then a look of realization passed over her face and she laughed softly. “you think i meant we’re just friends, hmm?”

robin nodded dumbly. her vision was blurring at the edges again.

“i meant that that’s what they’ll think if they catch me in here. they’ll think we’re just friends. we’re not just friends, robin. i kissed you, after all, didn’t i?”

again, robin nodded. she blinked, once, twice, and then they were in front of her window. y/n crawled out onto her roof legs first, and when it was just her upper half that was left to go through the window, y/n propped herself up on the window sill with her elbows. “don’t i get a goodbye kiss?” she asked, and robin smiled.

she leaned down, and just as their lips brushed, robin was startled awake.

robin shuddered. fuck, that dream sent chills up her spine in the best possible way, even if parts of it hadn’t been at all realistic.

she wanted to be able to hold y/n like dream robin had. why couldn’t she hold y/n the way dream robin had?

because y/n doesn’t like girls, she answered herself, and robin sighed. the world was so unfair.

she was startled out of her thoughts upon hearing steve’s loud, overly cheerful voice greeting another very special customer.

“y/n!” she heard steve say. “what, couldn’t stay away from your favorite ice cream scooper?”

“oh yeah,” came y/n’s reply, “i love the little metal guy you use to scoop up people’s ice cream, steve. where is he?”

robin’s face split into a grin, and imagined steve’s cocky smile sliding right off his face, replaced by a straight mouth and narrowed eyes as clearly as if she were watching it happen.

“haha,” steve said humorlessly. “very funny.”

and there was that goddamn laugh again, light and beautiful. “i always am, steven.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbled back. “just give me your damn order, y/n.”

robin didn’t have to listen to know what she would say; she had served y/n enough time to know her usual by heart.

it was quiet out front, save for the ceaseless mall-chatter, until steve said something that made robin’s stomach drop down into her feet.

“hey,” he said, and his voice was softer now than it normally was. “would you wanna, i dunno . . . go see a movie with me sometime?”

robin nearly choked on her own spit. was steve really asking y/n out?

it appeared that he was, and y/n was fucking laughing again, so fucking sweet and fucking perfect, and not fucking because of her. despite her gut telling her not to, robin peaked her head back out of the kitchen and watched, horrified, as y/n smiled her big, perfect smile at steve.

“what, you mean like on a date?” she asked, and her voice was as sweet as ever. as sick as robin felt, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare that was playing out in front of her.

“yeah,” steve replied, looking down awkwardly at the ice cream he was holding. “if you wanna. you don’t . . . er, you don’t have to. you know - you know what, just forget i -”

y/n cut him off. “i’d be happy to go see a movie with you, steve.”

steve’s head snapped back up so fast that a pang shot through the back of robin’s neck. “really?” his voice jumped up an octave at the end. he cleared his throat. “i mean, cool. cool, cool, cool.”

though robin could hardly see his face from the angle she was at, she could just see one corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile, and felt a pang in her chest. y/n was making him so happy.

as if just remembering the ice cream he was holding, steve swore under his breath and handed it to y/n, then reached behind the counter and grabbed a pile of napkins, which he handed to her as well. she took them both gratefully, and while she may have imagined it, robin was sure that y/n had let her hand rest against steve’s for a second longer than was normal.

“thanks for the ice cream, stevie,” she said, eyes big an innocent.

“n-no problem, y/n.”

she smiled sweetly at him and waved. “bye, steve!”

“bye, y/n! see you - see you later!”