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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

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You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his….

“Are you even listening to me?”

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little.

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?”

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?”

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives.

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks.

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.”

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?”

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.”

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip.

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things.

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?”

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.”

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.”

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often.

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous?

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.”

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.”

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment.

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.”

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.”

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk.

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.”

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.”

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed.

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply.

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?”

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you.

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.”

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’.

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article.

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s.

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad.

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.”

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw.

“You’re welcome, dulzura.”

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is? No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges.

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night.

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention.

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?”

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.”

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay.

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.”

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.”

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?”

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too.

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do.

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go.

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at.

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right?

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit.

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before.

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it.

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm.

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him.

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soft-for-them · 1 year

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Dead dial - Leon Kennedy x plus size reader

Summary: You're a nursing student who lives in Raccoon City who frequently talks to an old friend, Leon Kennedy, over the phone. Just as he's about to move to the same city as you the living dead start to roam the streets. (There is some descriptions of zombie related gore.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: Replaying Resident Evil games. Might not be 100% canon, I'm not really into the RE law. Also this will get a part two if people like it enough. Not proof read because I'm tired.

“You know this probably is a bad idea, Leon.”

Balancing the phone receiver between your ear and shoulder you try not to pull in the old spiral cord too much, the old in phone wall in your outdated flat is probably as old as you.

Standing in your small kitchen, the kitchen island digging into your soft flesh as your lean into it so the phone cord does not snap, you look out the old creaky wooden window past the fire escape to the dim yellow bulb street lights and rain soaked grey buildings.

Sirens loud and ear piercing can be heard, followed by the flashing of the obnoxious red and blue lights of multiple cop cars. You’ve never really trusted the police in this city, funny considering the man on the end of the phone is about to become one.

“(Y/n).” Leon says with an exhausted sigh. You can imagine his rubbing his hand through his hair whilst saying it.

“There’s something going on here-“ you step closer to the widow the phone line going straight as you look outside like an nosey old person would, “-the hospitals have been so hectic lately.”

You should know, you’re a second year nursing student, it’s the whole reason you moved to Raccoon city in the first place. (It certainly wasn’t the damp filled flats and lovely raining weather that brought you here.)

For school you work partly in the city’s hospital and for weeks now the ER has been flooded with people, you don’t know why, but many either have been sent home or have suddenly died. There’s even a rumour that patients have been taken as test subjects by Doctor Bard, though you’ve been too busy dealing with the rise of ‘cannibals’ to even care. All the nursing students have been worried, hell everyone working at the hospital has been worried, but the city’s government and press have been keeping the rising casualties hush hush.

“I know…” Leon begins his words long and worried, “Was it bad today?”

He knows your answer regardless, for the last month you conversations on the phone have been less about happy things such as seeing a fluffy dog on a walk or eating a tasty pastry and more on just about how you feel like you’re an overworked underpaid nurse already with how much you’ve been helping at the hospital whilst also studying and working a part time job.

“They say us going to the hospital is for educational purposes, at first it was but now we just go to be extra hands. They need it. I saw a doctor collapse today she was so over worked… and well at least all this overtime is going towards my grade.”

“(Y/n).” Leon echoes your name so quietly to stop you from rambling, he has known you long enough to know when your anxious rambling begin.

“Haha-“ you nervously chuckle as more sirens blare on, this time from ambulances rushing down the narrow roads lined with parked cars and thin pavements, “-I’m going to get an A with all the work I’m doing.”

“(Y/n).” his voice is louder and filled with concern.

“I hand to hold man down today whilst he screamed… he was screaming Leon-“ tears start to bubble up in your tired eyes, them threatening to drip down your face like the rain drop on your windowsill, “-I- I-“

“(Y/n)… listen to me, ok.”

“I’m listening.” You sniff as you lean back on the kitchen counter.

“You’re ok, Sundays almost here and then you can have day off, I can call if you like.”

Leon hopes you will for his relationship isn’t going well and ever since you moved away he hasn’t had a proper friend to talk to about such mundane and normal things. He likes hearing your voice even if lately you’ve been sounding worn out and a bit sad.

“I- I have work Saturday and I’ll sleep through Sunday, I- well- I don’t want to miss a call, but it’s hardly a day off Leon.”

“Ring in sick, go to that café you want to go to- what is it call- Lauren’s?”

“Lorenzo’s coffee and cake.”

“Yeah, that. You said they have a cream cake and imported coffee beans.” He remembers you talking about it on a past phone call, “Or you said that you wanted to go to that pop up art exhibit-“

“- The classics one –“

“-Yes, you said there is a Van Gogh there.”

He recalls you staying that a private collector was exciting their art collection which just so happened to have a Van Gogh sketch in it. You were so excited when you told he almost asked you to go with him to it, totally forgetting you now live in to different places and not in the same apartment complex like you did before.

“I ends Friday.” You glumly say.

“Then call in sick Friday and Saturday.”

Surly your boss would believe you more if you’d come down with say a cold on the Friday rather than suddenly getting on the Saturday, that’s what Leon thinks as he says the idea to you.

“I guess it does make it more believable to but-“

“-but?”

“…I don’t want to let anyone down Leon. This city is going to shit and I don’t want to be the asshole who fucks everything up because I don’t turn up to work or class…”

“You work in a supermarket.” His voice is filled with a fun confusion, like he’s amused and shocked at your words, as he ponders how not turning up at your cashier job will affect the city.

“So? Three shops have already closed down this month, the customers have doubled because people have to eat and- and-“

“(Y/N), you’re overthinking again. They can handle a day without you.”

“They can?”

“I can’t handle a missed phone call from you, think about it. A day off and a long phone call with me or no day off and a missed phone call because you’re too exhausted to wake up?”

“You know I’d take the phone call regardless.”

“Take the days off and call me tomorrow, it’s getting late and we both need some rest.”

It’s your cue to say goodbye, which is already drawn out and filled with cheesy jokes from Leon that make you laugh. You always did say that going to bed on a happy note makes the next day a better experience and Leon remembers it, so he always tries to cheer you up before either one of you hangs up.

“Night Leon.”

“Goodnight (Y/n).”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You didn’t take the days off but you did stay up late long enough to speak to Leon. He was having girlfriend troubles and you talked to the sun came up.

You were on your way to a lecture but a mass email was sent out telling everyone to stay home, or arrive at the hospital to help out, you chose the former opting rather to go home and go back to sleep.

Maybe you’ll go to the hospital to help out later on.

Apparently half of the students were already at the university when the email was sent out and apparently a lot of teachers were too. Many people have been sending messages through the many university group chats and message boards to stay away from the school. On person said that the city was going t be evacuated.

The sirens have been going off for days now, public transport has been limited that morning for some odd reason, you had waited at you bus stop for a half hour before getting a text from a friend telling you about the email and walking back home.

Even now you hurry as if someone is following you.

It feels like for the last week the city has become smaller and smaller, like a video game with a map yet to unlock. More and more people have become ill and it seems the Umbrella Corporation is being shoved in your face, their advertisements playing every commercial break along with warnings to stay inside unless you need to go out to work, school, the shops or hospital.

You have no clue what’s going on but you’re glad Leon is starting work here, even if he’s a cop.

You hope that Leon will get to the city quickly. You see, it all started with a call from him last night of him crying and saying his girlfriend dumped him and ever since that call it has seemed to get worse for you both. No longer was he going to have that nice shared flat with her in Raccoon city and from what you heard he was drunk, whilst you were up all night the sound of sirens and screams keeping you up.

Last night you stayed up with him until he fell asleep and even then you couldn’t sleep. Even this morning, you were worried sick about him driving down to Raccoon hungover, so you left him a voice message.

“Hey, Leon. I’m just about to head out to class, but um just know I’m here for you if you need me, oh and drink some water and take some paracetamol... Yeah, anyway I was thinking that well if you want to you could crash here if that apartment situation is still – you know- fuck, it’s too early to think and talk coherently… Um, yeah, the offer’s there if you want, you know where the spare key is hidden, speak to you soon. Take care Leon. Bye.”

And even now as you rush home avoiding everyone out on the streets, which is odd because there hardy seems to be anyone at all, well apart from some people asleep on benches like they were drunk and apartment buildings filled with shouts of people angry and annoyed (which you don’t realise is the sounds of zombies roaming around.)

You hurry up your pace to avoid a crowded looking street that looks to have a car crash and an onslaught of on lookers on it. You don’t take one look at the reanimated corpse who stumbles out the car and bites an onlooker, you just carry on rushing back to your flat, a bad feeling taking over you.

Passing burning buildings not yet entirely engulfed in flames but getting there and all the cars normally parked on the sides of the road gone from their owners trying to escape the city you finally get your apartment complex, the big double doors barricaded shut, a cabinet pushed against the fragile glass.

You wonder up to the door to see if someone is near the metal letterboxes or if the janitor’s closet is open with the janitor taking a break. Leaning your head on the glass you look around but no one is there to help you get inside.

“Hel-“ you begin to speak, your hands clutching the straps to your backpack but you stop yourself, the odd feeling of dread making your stomach do back flips.

Stepping backwards you hear a blood curdling scream.

You whip around to see a woman coved in blood crying and crawling out of the spinning doors of the fancier apartment complex just a bit down the street, her voice screaming a croaky ‘help’ to no one in particular.

“Don’t be a coward (y/n), you’re a nursing student, go help her!” the voice in your mind urges you.

Freezing still in front of the barricaded glass doors you look on to the speck that is the screaming woman, your hands clutching at you backpack straps so much that that the plastic fabric irritates your skin.

White doctor daps step backwards and not forwards, the tarmac scuffing your shoes.

You’re too scared to help the woman.

A loud moan like growl reverberates the ground, you look to your left at the glass doors to see a person, no, a dead man walking. He tries to walk to the door the furniture blocking the door making him slump over, only his hands touch the brittle glass.

The noise of gargling blood, the sight of his glassy dead eyes, the absence of a left arm, it makes you panic. You desperately look around for anything, anyone, any opening to escape all the while the dead get closer and closer.

Finally you spot the side alley, well it’s technically a whole road that leads to another street but with all the rubbish and filth only police cars and rubbish trucks drive down it. Apparently your block of flats used to look over a nice patch of grass that was a park but a couple years before you moved in they had built more buildings grey and dull blocking out the sun light.

Passed the rubbish bins you see the fire escape, the same fire escape that leads up to your window.

You look one more look at the dead man banging his head on the cracking glass, then one more look at the now quiet woman slumped on the ground, back to one look at the dark alleyway, you know what you have to do.

You bolt.

Dodging black bags of gooey trash and a hoard of skittering rats you clamber up the frail rusted frame of the fire escape. You take two steps at a time up the stairs each step rattling and swaying the old structure. You do not look back as trampled footsteps echo out in the street nor do you dare look into the passing windows, some covered in bloodied handprints.

Soon enough you get to your window, your flat on the fifth floor a welcomed sight to see.

The old wooden windows are slowly rotting away and the locks are permanently broken. You’re thankful that you hadn’t bothered locking the make do lock you drilled and secured in the window, the blocky hinged lock looking locked deterring any burglars from coming in.

Leon had said that he’d happily fix the window for you when he was settled in the city but considering what is happening you don’t care all that much for the lock, only that your friend is ok.

With a couple of rattles and a whole load of upper arm strength you slide the window up. There is just about enough space to fit in, though you’re going to have to suck in your tummy to do so and you’re going to have to shove your backpack in first.

You do just that, the backpack falling off the counter onto the floor with a thud, then you squeeze yourself through, your hips hurting as you force yourself in, your ass landing on the draining board next to the sink.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you bang your body on the hard surface, your feet hitting the ground as you push off the counter.

As soon as you are stable you lock the window the fastest you’ve ever done, closing the blinds along with it, doing that partly so no one can see you inside but also partly so you don’t have to see the outside world.

You’re finally home but you’re scared as hell.

Automatically you go to your rotary phone hanging on the wall.

You pick up the receiver, your fingers automatically dialling Leon’s home phone.

There is no ringing or waiting sound.

The phone line is dead.

A/N: If you want a part two please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

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otomiyaa · 6 months

Text

Re: 💌

Finally getting to respond to those who were so kind to me in messages, comments, and reblogs in the past week! @otomiya-tickles was a blog with mainly tickle fics, but you guys definitely made it feel like there was more to it :)

I piled all my answers into one big post and will treasure them for as long as Tumblr decides to keep me online this time 🤭

@lovelymessybubbly: Ahhh I remember sending that ask long ago and always wondered if you received it. I still think the timing (of my leave and your return) is ridiculous hehehe, but I'm also glad to stick around and to see you back! I hope the hiatus has been good^^

@dokidoki-muffin: absolutely honored to have inspired you and not only that, I think you're a great friend and I love our chats and our recent collab had me filled with joy^^ !! 🧁

@fluffandgiggles: I love your blog, the fics you write and the fandoms you choose and your kind personality, I'm glad you got to go from anon to your own blog and hope you can have fun with it for as long as you like to!

@skayleay: Sending love back to you, thank youu*w*

@beth-bethar00: Thank you 🥺

@tiredleekaz: Your message made me giggle hehe thank you for the support for the x amount of years, I also realized how easy it is to lose count when I think of all my different 'tumblr eras' 😂

@lilliee0: Sorry you had to find out this way hehe, and thank you! My account is in a good place *dramatic music plays* (no it's actually not lmao)

@rachi-roo: The Real OG 😳 I'm not sure I can accept that compliment but I thank you for it!! :3

@blobbirobbi: Sending love right back, also your tickle stories are always welcome hohoho

Anon #1: Heheh right! I know I"ve once said that even if I would quit my blog, I would never deactivate voluntarily (and definitely not without announcement) so it would have to be Tumblr to take care of that. To think that actually happened :). Hope you have a lovely day too!

Anon #2: Ahh I'm glad I could help introducing you to the tk community! Thank you for enjoying my fics, all the best to you too!^^

@infrequent-creator: Don't miss me yet, I won't be gone entirely :) I'll be here, and I'll be loud. Just my fic production will come to an indefinite stop, or break. Who knows.

@yourgigglebugmaya: Ahhh that flatters me! Thank you so much^^

@shyanon01: Thank you for the sweet message!

@hakurei-k: Hahaha! Well I'm still here too and ready to adore Solomon together.

@dirtpie39: I had to google that lololol ('sike'). Thank you for re-following^^

@sunstone-smiles: T-T thank you a lot!!

@moongeonight: 4 years ago!! ahhh I'm happy to hear it and hope you're still having fun! :D

@shy-lee-chu: Love you sweetie, I won't write many new fics so hope you won't be bored by me ;)

@eliankrios: Elian, I'm definitely okay thank you! I'll be mainly here to eat up the content you post ^^

@flames-tstuff: I DON'T DESERVE YOU! ❤️❤️ Hehe answering all these messages to me feels like an entire ceremony already 🙈 And thank youuu, those 13k posts and 7k followers were from a total of 7 years of active fic writing on Tumblr though for a ton of various fandoms, I don't deserve too much credit for it ^^

@kusuguricafe: Thank you for staying with me too 😘

@crazy-as-a-jaybird: *hug* thank youuuu T-T

@ticklystuff: Thank you so much, will do!! I am reviving my animal crossing island (inspired by you and sezzie🤭)

@fantasizes-tickles-daily: I read about so many heartattacks and feel so sorry hehe, thank you for finding me again and for supporting my new one!^^ I can't believe I even considered not making a new blog. Your blog alone gives me the serotonin I need.

@intheticklecloset: Thank you for the kind words and support!! T-T I look forward to enjoying the community from the sideline hehe:)

@ppystkposts: All these from anon to blogger stories make me kick my feet in delight! It's a chain reaction, I'm sure you will inspire others to start their blog as well. Your art and kindness most surely will do that^^ thank you for the support!

@giggly-squiggily: waaa that's so sweet, thank youuuu!*0* I'll remember it!^^

@fanfic-chan: Ahhhh thank youu:D I used to call my blog my happy place and am more than happy to turn this one into that as well. Thank you for your message!

@tickle-panile, @kiwithelee, @ticklish-sidekick, @mai-mei thank you for your concern*w*!

Special thanks to @lovelynim and @wertzunge for their instant share of my update, to @ticklygiggles for dealing with the questions about my absence, even the nasty ones. Sigh, I don't like they were rude to you! ah and also, it was Mia's message I woke up to when my blog was gone x) Never forget.

....and also ofc special speciaaaaal thanks to everyone else who reached out in DMs (I hope I answered you by now but will check soon), and to my dear friends on discord 😘

even though tumblr makes it look like my blog never existed, my evil spirit will live on and I'll keep being annoying 🤣

If I forgot anyone's message I deeply apologize ToT !!!!

#<333 #otomiya-tickles

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saeyoungs-angel · 2 years

Note

Hey lovely, if you don’t have too many asks id like to request shota or denki with a partner that struggles with depression, mainly with taking care of them selves in this. like hygiene, getting out of bed or doing anything really. denki or shota help them do little things that. i think you know what i mean so just write it how ever you want or don’t, if you are uncomfortable with this.

⨳ punctilious — mha

starring. aizawa & you

plot. you may think you’re slick, but your boyfriend pays attention to everything. this includes the lack of care that you’ve shown yourself, recently.

genre. comfort, fluff

cw. mentions of depressive episodes and depressive behaviors

notes. god i am so sorry it took me so long to get to this, my writers block is so fuckin bad rn but i managed to finish it! i hope u see this since i cant tag u and idk if ur following me but if u do then i hope u enjoy it:)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

𓆩☆𓆪

“(y/n), this is the fourth day in a row that you’ve slept in so late.”

you grumble in your half-asleep state, swiftly snatching the blanket he had so rudely stolen from over you. you tuck it back underneath your weary arms and roll away from aizawa.

huffing, you reply in a slurry manner. “tired, shota. didn’t get enough sleep.”

he hums, tilting above you to reach your furrowed eyebrows—he softly thumbs the crease forming in between them.

“stop that, you’ll look old.” he chides, feeling a bit hopeless with your attitude. he knows very well that your sleeping pattern has been through the ringer this past week, and he also knows he can’t force you to fix it.

that said, he still stubbornly wants to try.

“hey, sweetheart. if you get up now, we’ll go to a cat cafe. how’s that sound?”

your eyes fly open, only to dim moments after.

“not feelin’ it today, sorry sho.”

now, aizawa isn’t surprised by much, but this? this has him reeling on the inside. you never turn down an invite to a cafe, let alone one filled with cats.

something is amiss, definitely. though he’d like to speak with you about it directly, he’s worried that you’ll close yourself off even more—it’s not like you never confide in him, but you’re obviously keeping something from him.

he decides to let you rest, offering him enough time to consider his options.

when the sun begins to set, aizawa grows concerned. why are you sleeping so late now? with only solicitous thoughts of you clouding his mind, he shuffles quickly towards your shared bedroom.

creaking the door open, he finds the lights still untouched. “sweetheart?”

his eyes adjust, tracing the outline of your face that’s illuminated by your phone light—which isn’t very bright, probably because you’ve been in the dark all day long.

“hm? oh, sorry. i got stuck on social media.” you end your excuse with a light laugh, not even inching to shut of the device while your eyes lay on him.

he shakes his head and dismisses your words, moving to seat himself on the edge of the bed closest to you. he grasps your hand in his, smiling at you in concern.

“you haven’t been out of the room today, you know? it’s eight o’clock already.”

his voice brings silence with it, you averting your eyes as you can sense what’s ahead of you. scrolling on your phone, you distract yourself unsuccessfully.

“is there something you want to tell me?”

your scrolling pauses for a brief moment, just before you regain yourself and continue. your heart is by your feet and you have no idea where you should take the conversation now.

“i’m—i, uh. fuck, sho. i’m having trouble, alright? that’s all, and i’ll be okay in time. don’t worry about me, please.”

the last sentence drops from your lips and aizawa worries more than ever—those words always come from someone that needs to be worried about.

“quit it. i’m here to help you, not scold you or something. i’m your boyfriend, (y/n), not your mother. i can’t do anything if you refuse my help, but i’m asking you to let me help you.”

your scrolling doesn’t pause this time, it ceases completely. you shut off your phone, the room dimming before you reach for the lamp and switch it on. your vision is a bit blurry and you’re trembling ever-so-slightly, but you respond.

“okay.” with a shaky voice, you nod your head in extra confirmation.

aizawa’s lips turn upwards just lightly, “then it’s a deal. just one more thing, though. i need you to work with me, you have to try, alright? i’ll be here with you for every step, but i need you here as well.”

that’s how it started, you and aizawa both working to turn your episode upside down. two is better than one, right?

“hey, time to get up. i gave you an extra hour, so i expect a kiss after you shower and brush your teeth.”

you sneer, hating the fact that he knows you would’ve preferred to stay in bed and skip those things.

“why not now?” your tone is playful, yet he answers you honestly.

“because it’ll also be a reward for you, sweetheart. now get up, we’re going for coffee.”

the moment the toothpaste reaches your mouth, you gag lightly. after some time without tasting it, the feeling it leaves on your tongue is unfamiliar—aizawa is immediately by your side, brushing his teeth with you.

staring at him through the wide mirror, you smile to yourself. having someone next to you doing the exact same thing effortlessly may not be super comforting, but as he smiles back towards you the world seems just a bit brighter.

he snags your attention through the reflective surface, pointing from you to himself. your eyes leer on him as he counts on his fingers to a certain number, then switches his toothbrush to the other side. he wants you to repeat it, that much you can tell.

as you follow his actions, you turn it into a tiny game for yourself. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, aaand completely done.

“that wasn’t so hard, right angel?” he smiles down at you as you flip him off sarcastically.

“actually, it’s easier than i remember it. that might be because you’re here, though.”

critical hit, 98 damage dealt to shota aizawa!

𓆩☆𓆪

feedback is extremely meaningful!

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squidsniaki · 11 months

Text

Sore loser.

synopsis: what I think it would be like if Iono, the master of video games, always lost at them to the reader.

warnings: pure fluff, completely sfw. the reader is gender neutral.

The first time Iono had ever invited you over to play video games was probably either past or before the treasure hunt period of time. She just wouldn't have had the time otherwise, considering how many people challenge her gym. She called you on her Rotom phone and mentioned she snatched this sweet remaster of an old masterpiece and wanted you there to play with her NOW.

You weren't really confident in your skills when it came down to video games, at least not the ones you play on a console rather than on a PC. But come on, who are you to deny an invitation when it's literally screamed at you in all caps?

So imagine how surprised you were when the first ever match with Iono, you came out victorious! But oh boy, you weren't the only one with a gaping mouth at the time.

Considering how competitive this girl gets when it comes to her hobbies, needless to say she wanted a rematch. And the thing is? You'll play with her again, and then another time and she'll still LOSE to you. "Again!" And she'll just lose one more time. "AGAIN!" Honestly it keeps going until you're both hungry enough to take a break and order some takeout.

After that, Iono will make sure to jump you whenever she can. She'll even lure you over to her place with the sweet and delicious promise of freshly baked pastries from Katy's. Only to realize she's already got the gaming gear set up. She locks the door too. You sometimes consider jumping out the window, but she delivers on the pastry bit afterwards so you suffer through.

Oddly enough, she NEVER gets tired of losing to you. Considering she's been pretty much the best gamer ever her whole life, it makes her giddy and excited to actually work for the win. Even though she doesn't get it in the end.

Both of you decide at some point to just set a permanent date during the week for this silly competition. You're getting the snacks, Iono gets a hold of any drink she can find and you battle it out morning to late evening. At times you two get so immersed that you have to stay over for the night because no air taxi will take you home at this ungodly hour.

If you think she doesn't get salty from losing sometimes, well you're wrong. At some point she even starts getting desperate to justify why she keeps losing to you all the time. That one time, she kept her Bellibolt out of its pokeball. You thought it was weird, but didn't question it. Until the damn thing caused a power outage just as you were about to claim yet another victory. And you knew, you absolutely KNEW Iono has been scheming this since the beginning. "Ah, damn! Such a shame!" "OH IS IT?"

Don't you try to let her win. Trust me. It won't end well for you. If Iono wants to win against you, she has to EARN it. End of story.

She'll totally cancel a pokémon match if a new game drops, JUST so she can play it with you immediately. Sorry. You might have a specific date set specifically for games with Iono, but when a new game comes into play? All of that planning goes out the window. And you know what? Iono won't even throw a tantrum over losing. She's just that excited to play with you.

Every time you two play, even though she's never won against you, Iono is so confident and positive. She even sometimes invites you to her streams, only to get her butt kicked live. The crowd always only ever cheers for her though, but you're fine with that.

All and all, she loves playing with you. Hell, she even loves LOSING to you. You're the only person out there who can still make competitive gaming fun and challenging and you make her feel like she's a teenager again. She knows she can always improve from playing with you, and the prospect makes her giddy. Needless to say, you're her favorite player 2.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💕

#pkmn iono #pokemon #iono #iono the supercharged streamer #gaming headcanons #pokemon x reader #iono x you #iono x reader #reader insert #pokemon iono

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 2 years

Text

Blood, Sugar and Spice

Summary: Many men had found their way into your chamber, but none of them even came close to treating you and your body the way the good Duke Leto of House Atreides did.

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k (Whoops, my fingers slipped)

Content Warning: Nasty nasty Smut so 18+!, age gap (Reader is in her 20s), a bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of past abuse, drug use (Spice), very switchy power dynamics, explicit period sex, oral (f receiving), for real though... if you don't feel comfortable reading about (period) blood then this is not for you, absolutely feral Duke Leto, unprotected sex

A/N: I have absolutely no other excuse for this than saying that I want this man to break my back.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!

Please consider liking, commenting and reblogging! It means the world to me 🌸💞

Feel free to check out my Masterlist!

Tagging those who may be interested: @wayward-blonde @littlefreya

(gif by @fire-of-the-sun)

The scorching desert sun was about to set over the kingdom of the Shai-Hulud as you eased your weary head onto the thin linen-wrapped pillow of what you called your bed.

The small chamber, that was nothing more than a broom closet compared to the vast halls of Arrakeen, was your entire world... always had been since your wayward Fremen mother had given birth to you in the sheltering walls of the complex. She had taught you the ways of your people and how to survive under the cruel regime of the Harkonnen. She taught you how to make yourself valuable to the members of a House that awarded no worth to anything but Spice.

A familiar sting of pain shot through your chest as memories from the day your mother was brutally taken from you involuntarily resurfaced in your mind. To this day you never found out what exactly she had done for the Harkonnen to dispose her like she was nothing but trash and yet the assumption lingered that they simply got bored of her with you slowly but certainly growing into a young woman to use to their liking.

You felt your throat rendering dry at the thought and a single tear trickled down your cheek as you mused about how much better off the two of you would be now that Arrakeen had entered a new era. The era of House Atreides.

Without a doubt, the Atreides' family were kind, considerate and open people but as it was with so many people of wealth and power that had crossed your path by now they certainly had their deep and dark secrets too, tucked away neatly for barely anyone to ever see. As the odds have had it, you found yourself to be one of those very few.

The head of House Harkonnen had tossed you around like their little puppet whereas no one less of status than the Duke Leto Atreides himself had chosen a certainly more secretive route into your life.

At first it had started with a genuine interest in the stories you had to tell about what had happened in those halls and rooms he moved into with his family a handful of months ago but it needed only a brief few weeks for those innocent conversations to turn into something of a more lewd and guilty nature. The ever so sharp and collected Duke now sought out your company after sundown for what you called the Spice Experience. A little something something you were forced to come up with to survive in the former hostile climate, to keep yourself to be a person of interest and maybe even some sort of value.

With those thoughts in mind, a small sigh slipped over your lips. You assumed that he would pay you a visit tonight... the signs had been there: Small, impatient glances towards you while you served in the dining hall, a short brush along your elbow as you swiftly walked past him.

His Grace was in need for his next fix.

Although your body and mind felt terribly exhausted you had to get back up and clean yourself. Not only the Duke preferred you clean and washed but also you yourself liked to lather your skin with the illusion of having to feel less dirty about what you were doing.

After eventually convincing yourself to get up from your bed you walked towards a small wooden tub, that was hardly bigger than an oversized bucket. Water was rare on Arrakis but fortunately not so much on the Arrakeen premises. You were allowed to get a fresh tub of water every other day. That was made possible by your rather close connection to the Duke.

Slowly sinking your feet into the lukewarm water elicited a now relieved sigh from your lungs. It was a very welcome change from the dusty sandstone floors. Revelling in the comforting feeling you pulled your beige-coloured tunic over your head and tossed it to the ground. Before you bent down to grab the tiny sponge that was floating across the surface you found yourself in a brief moment of hesitation. Something else than just exhaustion was tugging within your body. A barely even there pain simmering in your lower abdomen, you recognised in displeasure, knowing that it would soon grow to be a burning agony, literally tearing you open from the inside.

In the faint hopes that it was a false alarm you let your gaze fall down to your thighs only for your well-wishing to be crushed immediately.

A delicate trail of deep red blood was already cascading down your bare skin.

"Fuck." You exhaled into the quiet room, the letters softly reverberating from lifeless walls.

Apparently you wouldn't be able to give his Grace the full experience tonight.

As the unwelcome realisation slowly sunk in, you eventually bent down to splash your legs and torso with water, using the sponge to scrub off the blood as good as possible. Of course it would keep coming but you could at least make the attempt to clean yourself.

Busy with dragging the sponge across every inch of your body, a firm knock on your door almost went unnoticed. For the blink of an eye you held your breath, questioning whether the sound was real or just something your mind made up to conter the silence in your chamber. The thud got repeated and you imminently stepped out of the tub, your skin still dripping with water.

"Yes?" You spoke towards the person behind the door.

"It's me." The familiar endearing voice of Duke Leto responded.

Of course it's you, you thought to yourself as you decided not to bother with padding yourself dry, let alone getting clothed again.

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you made your way towards the door but only pulled it open a little to signal him that he was allowed to enter.

You took a step to the side as to not stand bare naked in the doorway while you watched the man's broad silhouette slip into the room. Before the door swung shut again the Duke exhaled a surprised gasp upon the sight in front of him. His tanned, smooth skin was illuminated by the warm light of a glowglobe in the corner of your chamber and you could've easily reciprocated this kind of gasp because there was now way you would ever grow tired of seeing him like that. But instead of doing so, you leaned your head to the side with play-pretend innocence.

"What can I do for you, your Grace?" You asked in a calm tone.

Of course you knew damn well for what he was here for, but you could allow yourself a little bit of careful fun that way. It granted you the faint delusion of control and maybe even a hint of dignity.

"I- I'm not exactly feeling well." He stated almost sheepishly.

Oh, is the good Duke Leto of House Atreides still feeling guilty about his habit?

You bit your bottom lip softly at the thought. Plenty of men, that had been so full of themselves due to their status and power, had found their way into your chamber and by now you had heard every meak justification. The stress, the pressure, the responsibilities. It was all the same rinse and repeat with those men, but not with him. He tried to be good and you knew that, at his very core he was, yet he was bearing his very own flaws and needs you were shamelessly profiting from.

"Sounds like we should do something about that, huh?" With your words cutting through the humid air you stepped backwards to the edge of your bed, slowly sinking down onto the thin mattress.

"I truly hope we can do that..." The Duke's lips curled up to a small smile as he took a few slow steps towards you, pulling a sealed glass vial from his pocket. It was filled to the brim with an umber coloured powder. The entire potency of it would probably knock him out for good, but with your guidance he'd get the trip he was aching for.

"I'm sure I can help you with that...", you cleared your throat "But we need to tone it down a bit."

"How come?" His warm, endearing voice murmured as he sank down to his knees right in front of you, holding out the Spice supply for you to grab.

Accepting not only the glass vial but also his physical display of submission, you rewarded him with a gentle stroke of your hand through his partially greying hair. The elegantly combed back curls parted as you ran your fingertips across his scalp.

"I'm bleeding." You answered briefly.

The man in front of you nodded while his eyes were transfixed on what he wanted so bad.

"But don't you worry...", you continued, pushing the cork off the vial with your free hand "You'll feel better soon.."

Pulling back the hand that would've liked to stay nestled in his thick hair, you placed the now free palm flat in front of your face, pouring a small bump of the powder onto it. A gentle, inviting hint of cinnamon scent spread between the two of you.

"Close your eyes.." You demanded and the Duke followed your instructions.

His eyelids fluttered shut and you inhaled deeply through your nose, held your breath for a moment and eventually exhaled through your mouth, hitting the small pile of Spice with your breath for the powder to blow right into his face.

Watching his features closely you recognised how he took in the drug with a deep gasp, welcomed it into his body.

In the short moment you had to dose yourself you sprinkled your palm once more and straight up devoured the bump with your tongue, lapping up every single crystal of melange.

Right as it hit your nervous system the man in front of you opened his eyes. His pupils blown almost to the full extent of his dark amber eyes. Your own certainly not looking any different right now.

"Is that better, your Grace?" The words felt as if they were slithering out of your mouth all by themselves.

"Much better..", the man in front of you huffed, appearing a little out of breath "But you know.. you don't need to address me like that anymore... not now."

With the Spice seeping into every fibre of your being, an almost self-righteous grin spread across your face. You knew you had him, knew that he was all yours when you met in the shadows.

"Come here... Leto." You leaned back onto your elbows, not breaking your gaze down to him kneeling in front of you. It was a sight for sore eyes if you were ever to call something that. Now even more so, having uttered his first name that seemed to fill the air with a flickering electric current.

Both of you basked in that precious moment a little longer before Leto followed your order and rose from his knees, placing his strong hands on the edge of the bed to pull his body towards yours. The fabric of his thin, white linen shirt caressed your bare skin as he leaned in to you, the tip of his nose stroking yours gently before his warm lips pressed a hungry kiss to yours. He tasted like cinnamon and pure, sweet bliss. There was no use denying it, you enjoyed him way more than any other man before him and on some days you were willing to go as far as saying that you desired him, needed him like he now needed what you had to offer. Mutual dependency based on different reasons, you argued with yourself, trying to bring yourself down from the high horse that part of your mind loved to take a comfortable seat on. However, it was way past that point as you felt Leto's eager tongue slip into your mouth, intoxicating you even more with noting but his presence. You wanted to whish for time to simply stop, but that's not how it worked. The next morning would serve as a painful reminder of that.

After being satisfied with you reciprocating his kisses with needy and yearning ones of your own, Leto pulled back ever so slightly to press his forehead to yours. Already slightly sweaty skin on skin.

"I missed you so much...", He whispered "Missed you so much."

His words were so honest and upright that your chest felt dangerously close to exploding. They cut right through to your heart that was thundering against a ribcage which was barely able to contain everything you felt right now.

"I missed you too." You admitted before clenching your jaw and cursing yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you.

Leto's breath hitched a little as the weight of your answer settled.

"And I want you... so badly." He pressed.

"But -" You started, but were cut off immediately.

"I'm not scared by a bit of blood." Leto stated with a soft chuckle before he drew back from you to place a gentle kiss on your collarbone.

From there on out his lips left a path of loving pecks and playful bites down your torso. Each and every scratch of his thick beard knocked the air out of your lungs as you stared at him, half in disbelief and half in burning excitement.

"Are you su-?"

He shushed you again and paused in his movements as he had reached your belly.

"Let me show you." His breath hit your slightly damp skin, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to wash over you.

Savouring the reaction he caused, Leto left a few more kisses on your belly, for good measure, and it felt almost too much for you to take. He drove you close to insanity with all his gentle and loving ministrations to your body. He actually made you feel valued for simply laying beneath him and that frightened the living hell out of you.

You were second to none at handling hurt, at navigating every kind of pain, whether it be the one attacking the body or the one torturing the mind, but his disarmingly honest affection towards you left you feeling helpless. You couldn't help yourself but let him slip past the walls you had carefully built up around your vulnerable soul. Leto was an intruder to your self-imposed emotional solitude and you let him.

This entire mess of feelings was alarmingly close to taking over as the man, that was back at kneeling between your legs, sent every thought into blissful nothingness. Without any hesitation he had wrapped his arms around your thighs and buried his beautiful face inbetween your legs. You were already more than wet with arousal by the time he had placed a warm array of kisses on your breasts and now you were sure you must be dripping beneath you.

Being ever so careful with your body, you felt Leto's tongue dart out to part your slick and very likely blood tainted folds. He did it with vigour and the full width of his tongue to leave absolutely no doubt for you that he was, indeed, not scared by a bit of blood.

"Leto.." You moaned his name into the humid air as your head lolled back at the feeling of his tongue caressing your almost aching clit.

His hot breath fanned against your pulsing core while he lapped at your body as if you were nothing short of an oasis in the middle of the hostile desert. Him circling and nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs with the tip of his tongue rendered you into a thoughtless, blissed out body that got hijacked by scorching lust and Spice. The single greatest combination in the known universe.

It didn't took too long for this potent concoction to get to work and so you felt the familiar sensation of muscles tightening and relaxing again in increasingly irregular intervals. Your leaking core clenched around nothing again and again while your breaths turned flat and erratic. And as Leto pushed you closer to the edge you wanted to tell him not to stop but nothing more than needy whimpering could be drawn from your lungs. You entire body felt like it was about to be ripped into a million little fragments by the rising tension within. Absentmindedly you started to wiggle your ass over the mattress to somehow get more friction, but Leto held you in place while his nimble tongue drew yet another circle.

You wanted to claw at his hair to push his face even closer to you but instead all they were able to do was to dig into the fabric underneath you until your knuckles turned white.

Everything within you was ready to let loose, to let the coil snap and for pure bliss to surge through your veins, alongside the Spice. It took all your remaining will to inhale deeply while forcing your nearly cramping body to relax. You closed your eyes and in the pitch black nothingness you saw the spark igniting before your body caught on to it.

In an indescribable rush of white hot pleasure the known world around you burst into shambles while your mind was free falling through multiple universes at a time. Everything was one while nothing at all was or would ever be again.

Somewhere in the distance you heard your own coarse voice cry out after Leto and after seconds that stretched into an eternity your senses pulled you back to reality. Gasping for air you opened your eyes back to the dim light of the glowglobe.

Your slightly blurred vision wandered down your body, taking notice of countless little sweat droplets and eventually falling on Leto. From his face downwards no trace of the normally content and collected Duke was to be found. Strains of red inked his wet beard and an almost demonic grin played around his lips. His eyes were Spice and lust blown as they stared down at your trembling body in satisfaction. Under all his military badges slumbered a feral animal that only you were able to bring out and you loved every second of it. This was a version of Leto you had all to yourself.

You had soon to discover that the animal wasn't done with you just yet. While you were lost in all your orgasmic bliss, Leto had unbuckled his belt and freed himself of his clothes. His skin shimmered almost golden as he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Without a warning he aligned himself with you and pushed into you until you felt like he was about to split you in half. His cock was stretching you out almost painfully, yet you still arched your hips from the bed to meet his.

"Look at you..", It rumbled out of his chest "So good for me."

You moaned in approval at his praise, because you really were good to him. Not everybody would be willing to accept that, but only the two of you needed to know how good you were for each other.

With his grip around your waist so tight that it would most likely leave bruises on you, Leto started to thrust into you with a merciless pace, not giving your body any time to adjust to his size. Even though the Spice dulled your senses you felt pain throb through your lower abdomen and you revelled in it. To you it meant that you felt him, moving inside of you, to the absolut maximum. You took the pain as a gift, knowing that you would still be able to feel him after he'd long been gone.

Letting your head fall back onto the mattress you surrendered yourself to the animal that was fucking you like it was the last time it would get to hunt you down.

The sound of heavy panting and wet flesh crashing onto each other eradicated the silence. Leto's menacing growls came as music to your ears and once more you knew that you were able to give him what no one else could. A hideout. A shelter, where he didn't need to be who others pressured him to be. A secret place to get away from himself.

As the movement of his hips fell more and more out of its rhythm, you reached out to clasp your hand around his wrist. It had grown into standard practice for him to pull out, a weak safety measure but a safety measure nonetheless. This time you didn't want him to. You craved to feel him coming undone sheathed deep inside of you.

A raspy "Don't." spilled from your lips as you felt Leto withdrawing himself from you. He hesitated for a split second, but the temptation got the better of him too. With a low groan that came from deep down he slammed himself back into you and you rose your head to watch him unravel right there in front of you. Seeing the bliss wash over his face and feeling his seed spilling into your cunt was nearly enough to send you over the edge again right there and then, but you kept yourself together because you didn't dare to miss just one second of this sacred moment.

In the end, all of you were animals out here under the desert sun, but only few knew that some were also lurking in the night under the gentle sheen given by The Hand of God.

#dune 2021 #dune fanfiction #dune imagine #duke leto atreides #duke leto x you #duke leto x reader #leto atreides #house atreides #leto atreides imagine #dead dove do not eat

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

wreck my plans - epilogue

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 1,853

Notes: All my love and appreciation to @ezrasbirdie my beloved for beta-reading this entire series and being my top cheerleader. You are the best and I appreciate you so much! This is just a short and sweet epilogue to wrap things up and see what happened in the aftermath of everything. Thank you to everyone for reading and reblogging/leaving feedback on this story.

Comments/reblogs appreciated

Chapter warnings: Kissing, non-explicit sexual content (including f!receiving oral), proposals

previous chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus pike)

AUGUST (AGAIN)

The cherry blossoms sway in the hot summer breeze as you walk to work hand in hand with Marcus. The power’s been out for twenty-four hours and since you’re now the owner/operator of the cafe, you need to make sure everything’s okay and nothing’s gone bad.

“I just hope I don’t have to throw everything out,” you say to Marcus for the seventh time, knowing that the generator is running as needed and everything will likely be fine.

Marcus squeezes your hand. “It should be fine, honey.”

“When should the power be back on at the Bureau?” you ask, fishing the keys out of your purse.

“Hopefully not long. Although part of me wants to stay home. I’ve enjoyed the extended staycation I’m getting.” Marcus had had the past week off work. You’d mostly lounged at the house, gone on day trips, spent lazy mornings (and afternoons) in bed tangled up together.

It’s been nine months since you moved in with Marcus, since Kevin was sent away for twenty years without parole. You still don’t know how you got so lucky with Marcus. He’s the perfect man for you. Sweet, caring, considerate, generous. He takes care of you. And listens to you. He’s everything that your ex-husband wasn’t. He does things for you because he wants to, not because he has a sense of obligation to. You love him completely, and you were once certain that you would never love again. You’re happier than ever with him.

The idea of marriage has crossed both your minds. But as you told him one night a few months ago in bed, you weren’t sure if you could see yourself getting married again. Marcus had understood. He felt the same way once after Teresa left him. But now that you’ve met each other? Anything is possible. You know that Marcus is the one for you, just as Marcus knows you’re the one for him. The two of you had left it open-ended, but it was becoming something you were considering more and more. You want to spend your life with him by your side.

With a jangle of the bells hanging at the door, you push open the cafe door. The air is stale without the conditioner. You could use the generator to its full value and power the entire cafe but you don’t want to run the risk of taking any power or energy away from the fridge or freezers.

With some slight trepidation, you open the fridge and grab a carton of milk, seeing how cold it is. It feels fine. “I think everything’s okay,” you say to Marcus before glancing at the display case of baked goods. They are a new recipe, gladly taste-tested by Marcus after you made them last week in the kitchen. He’d still tasted like the cinnamon swirl donuts later as he kissed you, pushing you up against the wall as you giggled against his lips before helping him take off the forest green t-shirt you love so much on him.

“We should probably take these,” you say, “so they don’t go stale.”

But before you can get a box, there’s a thrumming sound, the tell tale sign of the air conditioner and freezer coming back on. “Thank god,” you cry, the stress releasing from your body in waves.

You still take the donuts home. You know how much Marcus loves them.

- - - -

“When do you know how many students you have?” you ask Marcus over dinner. The power’s on at your place, but it’s still off at the Bureau, so you and Marcus have another day together; he’s going to helping out with the cafe tomorrow, making sure everything’s as it should be. You won’t be re-opening until Wednesday.

“Should be soon. These next few days were supposed to be my last days before my sabbatical.” Marcus has decided to take the teaching job as a trial run. It was one thing when he was undercover. It’s another thing entirely when he’s doing it for real. If he likes it, he’s going to give up the FBI and become a full-time instructor. It’s odd, he thinks, not being an FBI agent. At least for the time being. If he hates it, he’s going back to the Bureau. But you don’t think he’s going to hate it. He’s teaching the figure drawing class again and he’s kept his same model as before on retainer. It had been an easy yes on your part, and you had successfully negotiated a higher pay, which bolstered your income nicely. The only hard part would be keeping your hands off each other completely.

You sense his nerves about it. “You’re going to be great. You are great.”

Marcus smiles at you. “So are you, you know that?”

He tells you so many times, but every time he does it makes your heart grow in fondness for him even more.

“Charlotte texted. Power’s still out at her place, so she’s going to Sam’s.” Though you didn’t see your sister on a daily basis like you had this time last year, she was still number one in your life.

After dinner, as Marcus is washing the dishes, you come up behind him at the sink and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your face against his warm, broad back. “Hi, baby,” you murmur. It seemed a bit incongruent the first time you called this man of authority “baby” when it had slipped out, but he absolutely preens every time you call him that. “I know the power’s back, but I still want to do what we had planned for if it was still out.”

Twenty minutes later finds you and him in his studio. More artwork hangs on the walls. He’s brought home the framed drawing you and he had done and it now hangs on the wall. As you finish lighting the candles and strategically placing them around the room (the sun hasn’t completely set yet), Marcus gets his sketchpad and charcoal.

This has become a semi-frequent activity for you. It usually ends the same way, with him whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ears before he takes you slowly and sweetly on the floor, spread out on a dropcloth. He’s generous and attentive and always makes sure you get your pleasure first before he gets his own. Sometimes it’s quick and frantic, but even then, Marcus makes sure you’re both getting what you need. You love him and his need to show his love for you. He needs you to know that he loves you and shows you in many ways, every day.

“I still want to do one where it’s both of us,” you say as you settle on the couch.

“An artist is never their own subject,” Marcus says primly, trying to hide something. You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, okay,” he relents. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I’m still waiting on a camera with a timer.” He already has a photo printer for work that he’s also taken home (since it was his to begin with). “Do you want to do it together?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Your position is a bit off, he reaches out and adjusts you. Though this is not new, his touch still sends shockwaves through your body. You will never get tired of his touch, of him.

He draws you, the intimacy heightened as a result of the candlelight and setting sun. The ambience is different and you love it. It’s always different, each time he draws you, but this time? There’s something else.

The words hang on your lips for a long time, not wanting to distract him. They stay put even as he begins to kiss you on the couch, working his lips down, down, down… Even as your legs go up over his shoulders, all you can say is his name in ecstasy.

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed together later that Marcus makes mention of it. “What’s on your mind?” he murmurs.

You mean to broach the subject a bit more gracefully, but it just slips out. “What if we get married?”

Marcus blinks slowly, making sure he hears you correctly. You never thought you were going to marry again after your divorce, but then Marcus Miguel Pike walked into your life, into your heart and you never want him to leave. You can’t picture a life without him.

“I know I said I wasn’t sure,” you continue. “But I-I love you so much and I never want us to be apart. You’ve made me realize what I want in life and that’s to be with you, by your side. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. I never will.” You don’t realize you have tears streaming down your face until Marcus brings a hand to your cheek to wipe them away tenderly. He kisses you sweetly, says your name with such affection it nearly makes you sob with how much you love him. “You’re the love of my life and my best friend. I never thought… Never dreamed that after him… But then I met you and I’m so glad that I did because being with you is all I want; I can’t think of a better way to spend my life than being married to my best friend. So I’m asking if you want to marry me.”

Marcus’s own eyes are glazed with tears. He says your name again. “Of course I want to marry you, are you kidding?” he tries to tease. Your laugh is watery and he kisses you. “I love you so much, how could I ever want to live a life without you in it?”

Marcus sits up. “Give me one second,” he says, making his way to the dresser. He rummages around in his sock drawer — where you had found his gun and badge — before coming back with something in his hand. He gives it to you. It’s a small velvet box. “I’ve been planning on giving this to you. I was going to give it to you next week on the anniversary of the first time we officially met. It’s meant to be either an engagement ring or a… well, I guess a promise ring? Because even if we don’t get married, I want to be with you.” You open the box. It’s a simple ring with diamonds etched into it. It’s perfect. “I had this whole plan of asking you at dinner, I was going to take you to the bistro where we officially met and ask you there. But this is much better.” He takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your finger. It fits perfectly.

You meet his lips for a kiss. You can’t believe that this is your life sometimes, that you’re in love with the man of your dreams. It had never been in the plans to fall for someone so soon, but as soon as you met Marcus, those plans had been wrecked. And you couldn’t be happier that they were.

The End

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my writing

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ravencincaide · 4 months

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Summary of 2023

I've seen a few blogs do it and decided, for myself, to sum up this Tumblr year. To gain a little bit of perspective on what I’ve done so far and where I might want to take this site next. Also to have a chance to look back at this post in one year and see how accurate it was and how much has changed. I encourage you to do the same!

A Writers Requiem started around 25th of August-23 after many many years of not writing anything and that was also the first post (a reblog) on the site. Since then it has developed very much into a Chuuya fanpage with a few Dazai and SKK posts here and there. In this just-over-four-month this blog has produced:

8 request fics ( for 5 different requests)

16 purely Chuuya x reader fics (8 SFW and 8 NSFW)

6 purely Dazai x reader fics ( 3 SFW and 3 NSFW)

6 SKK x reader fics ( 6SFW and 1 NSFW)

Thus concluding the year with a total of : 36 fics. A lot of which I plan to re-write or tackle some of the prompts again which I wasn't 100 percent happy with.

So that’s what’s been achieved in the past. Where are we now?

There are still 13 Sweetober prompts left.

There are still 20 Kinktober prompts left.

There are still 5 requests gathering dust in my inbox (I’m so sorry!)

Not to mention some requests for part two of certain fics.

So easy to say I have a good half a year worth of prompts left if I intend to finish them all. The keyword being “if”. I’m looking at you, kinktober.

So let’s talk a little bit about the future of this blog, shall we?

First of all, A Writers Requiem is going on a two week vacation.

As fun as this sounds, I’m only going to focus on studies and re-exams before the next term starts brutally kicking my ass. So puppy Chuuya, and horn-dog Dazai will just have to wait their turn. I will still be available through messages and inbox. Please don't hate me too much

Secondly, this blog is going to move back a little from using others' prompts and go back to writing things or ideas that I’ve come up with myself and which bring me a little more joy to produce. At the end of the day I’m writing not for popularity or praise (even if those are a huge motivator!) but to get myself used to producing fictional works within a timely manner. Whether they are approved by the general audience is an entirely different issue. That I’ll tackle once I’m more comfortable and confident in myself as a writer.

Anyhow, the first set of prompts I’m gonna tackle is The art of Seduction for February, and the prompts for that are published on my second blog: A Writers Prompt. Follow me there if you’d like a sneak peak of the kinds of things this blog will produce or the ideas I’m toying with.

Another question I’ve gotten a few times is whether this blog will continue being purely BSD (Chuuya and Dazai) or if I’ll expand. For now that’s uncertain; at the very least I want to finish my Sweetober prompts the way they have been up until now before trying a new kind of blend. Fydor is definitely someone I’m considering to do a closer study on, once I’ve gotten through Dostojevsky that is… Also JJK and MHA are definitely fandoms I'm thinking of checking out.

Finally my goal for 2024 is to stick to my updates schedule on Wednesday and the weekend. Key word being goal which can change depending on how life is.

So in short there’s a ton to do and a ton to look forward to in 2024. Hope you’ll stick with me <3 And with those words, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

#happy new year #new year #plans for 2024 #goals for the blog #info #a writers requiem #writing

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vegacoyote · 1 year

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I posted 8,501 times in 2022

That's 5,460 more posts than 2021!

11 posts created (0%)

8,490 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bunjywunjy

@swirlingflight

@stellarrrluna

@inktail

@proserpine-in-phases

I tagged 354 of my posts in 2022

#unreality - 27 posts

#goncharov - 14 posts

#tumblr classics - 14 posts

#nice - 3 posts

#freya - 3 posts

#borb - 3 posts

#nope - 2 posts

#ice pick joe - 2 posts

#youtube - 2 posts

#baby yoda - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#pump up its value by using your fox news bully pulpit to convince your gullible & insecure viewers that it’s the only thing with real value

My Top Posts in 2022:

Currently am on the many sleeping drugs plus cold medicine and they are stirring my eyes around in a talky way so helllo how are you? I have been reading about komodo dragons with their heads in buckets and also people having hypothermia debated with the ice-water dunked and that all makes for a weird clacking noise in my stirry brain cocktail.

I appreciate the tungls yes I do. They keeps all my various ideations to a dull roar.

5 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

My dog is an underwear thief.

8 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

youtube

15 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

Can we see the puppy

Yes, absolutely!

Here’s Freya milliseconds before realizing She’s Bored and It’s An Emergency

And here she is immediately after:

See the full post

32 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You know what I wanna see? A story about Gotham centered on, like, Gotham paramedics, social workers, legal aid & pro bono lawyers, stuff like that. Emergency services that aren’t the cops. People who help people past the point of ”OK who needs to get punched and/or arrested?”

Think of it, that shit would be wild. Like, how long does this city go between crises where entire city blocks get hit with aerosolized amphetamines? Someone has to deal with that shit.

Look, my sister’s a social worker, and she was telling me about this meme her coworkers found on facebook, some pro-cop bullshit where it was like, ”Well what if there’s some 200 pound naked guy running screaming down the street, you wanna send a social worker after that guy?” And every one of them was like, ”Uh. Yeah. That’s it, that’s the job.”

And like, not that the job doesn’t attract its share of bullies and abusers- I’ve been on the wrong end of shitty social workers before and it sucks- but at least it’s a profession that generally considers it a failure if the client ends up dead, injured, or in jail. At least there’s a potential there for stories that show the humanity of the people who would otherwise only show up to get rescued or have the crap beaten out of them.

Like. Tell us about a homeless shelter in Gotham. Tell us about a food kitchen. Who are the regulars there, and why? Who works there? What’s a day treatment meeting look like in a place where the supervillains cook up a new Crazy Debilitating Gas every week, some of which can fuck your shit up permanently?

What about people just trying to get to work in a situation like that? I bet after a while they just started selling gas masks at corner bodegas. (Probably mostly shitty ones.) Average Gotham Citizen has got to have so much PTSD about it.

I heard somewhere that DC has an editorial rule that goes, ”Gotham always gets worse,” and like. How can you hear that and not feel crushingly depressed? If you can’t tell a Batman story where Gotham gets better, where’s the space in there for hope? Isn’t that what escapist fantasy is supposed to be about? And ”Gotham never gets better” says the opposite of that, it says, ”There’s no escape, nothing gets better, let’s go watch some more civilians get blown up and then punch someone about it to show we care,” and that’s. Terrible. Like 40 cakes worth of terrible, OK?

318 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

(Year in review thing, couple days late.)

#tumblr2022 #year in review

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Six)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3.3k

Warnings / Not much to warn you of here apart from some pining, discussions of therapy sessions, a graveyard but that's about it.

Authors Note / We're moving slowly but surely where these two need to be. I hope the slow burn isn't putting too many of you off but I promise within the next few chapters we're going to get to the meat of the story. If you enjoyed this then please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask box with your thoughts and feelings! I love you all and thank you for continuing to support me.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You were back in Belinda’s office. There was something about sitting there today that brought you back to the very first time you’d sat down with her. Afraid to unpack everything, sitting on the verge of tears, sobbing at the first mention of Mark’s name. It didn’t feel much different this time, tissue clasped in your hand as usual, but you didn’t think it would be Mark’s name that made you cry, you were sure it would be Joel’s.

“You seem a little distracted today.” Belinda points out, pulling your attention from staring out the window, “Anything particular on your mind you’d like to talk about?”

You let out a sign and your shoulders slump, “I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Belinda asks.

Another sigh, another slump of your shoulders so you’re practically leaning over your knees to avoid looking at her, “Something happened,” You mumble, “With Tommy’s brother.”

“Joel?”

You nod, “He’s a friend, he’s really helped me these past few weeks, this weekend I had them all over, Tommy, Maria, Joel and Ellie and it was such a lovely day, the first time I’d felt genuinely happy in a long time.”

“Then something happened?” She presses.

You lean back, looking at her this time, she’d always told you that in order to have difficult conversations you had to face them head on, “Everyone left apart from Joel, we’d been drinking quite a lot and I asked him about his experience with grief, which was fine, but as he was leaving we kissed,” God you felt like a teenager again, explaining to your best friend how your crush had kissed you before class, “And now I’m confused Belinda, and I don’t know what to do.”

She nods in understanding, “Did you want him to kiss you?” She asks.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, “I guess I did; I think I’ve been ignoring the fact for a while that I like that he’s looked after me and that he’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen, it’s not that I didn’t want it, it’s that when I closed my eyes, all I could see and think about was Mark.”

“You know, this is entirely normal and understandable,” She’s trying to make you feel better, even if she is the professional, “When we lose someone, especially someone we know romantically, it’s hard not to compare the two people to each other, but that doesn’t mean it’s not something you shouldn’t pursue if you want it,” She notes something down on her notepad, “You do want this, with Joel?”

“I don’t know,” You groan, throwing your face into your hands, “When we were talking outside before all of this, I told Joel that I almost wished Mark had told me to move on before he died, gave me permission to be happy.”

“But you don’t need his permission,” She states blankly, “I’m going to speak very honestly with you now, I hope that’s okay?” You nod, giving her permission to go on, “Mark is gone, I know that’s painful, but we don’t know what, if anything, exists after this life, and if you continue to think of what Mark would want you to do for anything then you’re never going to be happy.”

It was inevitable but this is the moment you start crying. Up until now you think you’d convinced yourself that it might all be a bad dream, that you’ll wake up one morning and he’ll still be there, he’ll make the coffee and you’ll sit together, and everything will be fine. But Belinda is right. He is gone. Has been gone for over a year and he’s not coming back. You dab at your eyes with the tissue.

“I think Joel makes you happy, am I right?” You nod, “Well then, don’t fight it,” She sighs herself, putting down her pen, “I’m not saying run off and get married, or sleep in the same bed, but if he makes you happy then let him do that, I think you might surprise yourself with what happens.”

“But what about what everyone else thinks?”

“Do you want me to answer that as your therapist or your friend?”

“Both?” You shrug.

“As your therapist, we already talked about this, unless it’s Tommy or Maria or anyone else you’re close to, it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks,” She pauses and a smirk falls across her lips, “As your friend? Fuck them.”

You laugh through your tears, blowing your nose into the tissue before balling it into your fist, “Listen, I’m not telling you to rush things, just speak to him, be honest about what’s happening in your head, and if he’s half the man you’ve made him out to be then he’ll understand, and he’ll wait for you.”

You stand up to leave, “You know, he already told me he would.”

She’s got her hand on the small of your back to lead you out to the front door, “Well, there you go,” You open the front door to leave when Belinda adds, “Go get your man.”

It’s late afternoon and you’re sat on the back porch soaking up the last of the sun. Finished coffee mug on the table, you’re absentmindedly running your fingers along the table.

“Oh thank God!”

You think your heart stops of a second as you let out a scream and turn to the back door, it’s Maria.

“Fucking hell Maria, a little warning would be nice!” You exclaim, clutching your chest to try and regulate your pulse back to someone who isn’t about to die of a heart attack.

“Sorry, but I was knocking on the door for ages, I didn’t know where you’d gone!”

Maria takes a seat next to you and your heart fills with guilt at the fact that you’d worried her, “I’m sorry, guess I was just in my own little world out here,” You speak, “Shouldn’t you be at the council meeting?”

“Finished early,” She shrugs, “Thought I’d pop by and see you.”

“Coffee?” You ask, pointing to your empty mug.

“I’m okay, I think I had three to get me through that meeting, anymore and I’ll be climbing the walls.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you before Maria speaks again, “So, what’s on your mind then?”

You run a hand over your face, “My therapy session with Belinda has thrown up more questions than answers and I don’t really know where to start.”

“Well, two heads are better than one.” Maria coaxed.

You groan, “You cannot say anything to anyone, not even Tommy, okay?”

“Cross my heart.” She smiles, doing the motion of a cross over her chest.

You take a deep breath, “I kissed Joel.”

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I kissed Joel.” You say again, louder this time.

“I thought that’s what you said but I just needed to be sure,” She’s got the same smirk on her face that she had in the market a few weeks ago when Joel had first appeared, “And what’s the problem?”

“Maria, you know damn well what the problem is!” You snapped.

“There could be lots of problems, honey,” She soothes, “Did he kiss you without permission? That’s a problem. Was he a bad kisser? That’s also a problem. I’m going to need to know the exact problem you have in order to help you.”

“For crying out loud,” You grumble in frustration, “Neither of those are the problem, the problem is that I wanted it. I wanted it so bad Maria, and then as soon as I closed my eyes it was Mark, I was thinking about Mark.”

“Honey, of course you did, Joel is the first person you’ve looked at since he died, of course you’re going to be thinking about him, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

“But he deserves so much more than a woman who only sees her dead husband when she kisses him.”

Maria reaches out and gives your forearm a hard squeeze, “So do you honey, and the only way that’s going to happen is to keep trying,” Her voice is low and its sweet and you’re so overwhelmed that you start crying again, “He’s a good man, let him learn to love you darling girl.”

You lean your head back against the chair and look up into the clear sky above you, rubbing at your eyes to try and dispel the tears from falling anymore. You were tired. Sick and tired of this always being the go-to when things got hard or complicated.

“Maybe you should go and talk to him?” Maria suggests softly.

“Joel?” You asked, leaning your head to look at her.

“Well, yes, eventually, but I meant Mark,” She nods her head to the sweet peas on the wall, “Why don’t you take him some flowers and talk to him about everything?”

You had to admit that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spent time at his grave. Up until now it had been more painful to imagine him, buried under the earth, rotting away, than it was to go and see him. Maybe this is what you needed though. He was always the person you’d go to with your problems, and although this was a different problem altogether, maybe he could still help. Maybe, in your wishful thinking, he could send you some sort of sigh from beyond the grave. The permission you needed to truly let yourself be happy again.

You nod, “Maybe I will.”

Maria smiles and stands, “I should really be getting back home, there’s mountains of documents for me to pour over, but you know where we are if you need us.”

Joel was vaguely aware that Tommy was talking to him. He could hear the usual southern drone of his accent, but he couldn’t hear a word he was actually saying.

“Are you even listening?!” Tommy pauses, breaking Joel away from his thoughts.

“Course I am.”

“Fuckin’ liar Joel, you’ve had your head up in the clouds since we started out this mornin’.”

“Yeah well, I just gotta lot to think about right now.”

“Enlighten me then, what do you have going through your mind right now that means you’re away in cloud cuckoo land?”

“You know you can be really irritating sometimes?”

Tommy grins at him as they continue their patrol together. It’s the easy route this afternoon which Joel is glad for, his knees are really starting to feel their age now and he doesn’t think that regular patrols on the hills would be a good idea anymore, “I’m your little brother, I’m supposed to be irritating.”

“You gotta swear to me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else, you understand?”

Tommy is looking at him expectedly, slowing his walking pace down so he can look at his brother. Joel almost wishes he would walk ahead of him, so he doesn’t have to look at his face when he admits what he’s done, but talking with Tommy about this stuff has never been easy.

“I kissed her.” Joel states simply, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Tommy stops dead in his tracks; Joel decides to keep walking. He can’t deal with the shit-eating grin he knows will be plastered on his brother’s face. He can already hear the ‘you told me it wasn’t a date’ comment.

“The longer you stand still, the later we’ll be for dinner,” Joel calls over his shoulder, “I’m not going to be happy with another meager plate of leftovers.”

He can hear Tommy’s boots hitting the ground behind him and then he’s being clapped on the back, “I didn’t think you had game anymore, big brother.”

“Would you knock it off?!” Joel exclaims, “It’s nothing to do with game, it was a stupid mistake.”

“Cut the shit Joel,” Tommy scoffed, “Everyone saw how you were lookin’ at her over that fire the other night, whatever it was, it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Yeah, well you weren’t there, alright?” Joel is regretting bringing this up altogether now, “Maybe I don’t mean that it was a mistake, lord knows I’ve wanted to for a while now, but fuck, the way she looked at me after, it broke my heart, Tommy.”

“So, she regretted it, not the first time a girl’s come to her senses with you.”

That earns him a swift slap to the arm, “All she said was that she couldn’t, not right now anyway.”

“Well then, I don’t know what the issue is?” Tommy shrugs.

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s reminiscent of all the time’s Tommy had called Joel from jail to bail him out all those years ago, “The issue is Tommy, that I can’t be around her then, there’s something inside of me that just wants to do whatever I can to make all her pain go away, and the only way I want to do that is to kiss her, but I don’t just want to slot in where her husband left, that ain’t right.”

Tommy is quiet for a while as they continue walking, he, like Joel, is surveying the land, but like always, it seems quiet. No signs of infected, no signs of raiding parties. They reach the end of the patrol hike and Tommy sits against a tree, taking out his hip flask to take a sip before he hands it to Joel, who gladly takes a drink before handing it back.

“You know, you’re nothing like him.” Tommy says quietly.

“Like who?”

“Fuckin’ hell, your memory can’t be that bad,” Tommy takes another drink, “You’re nothing like Mark.”

Joel doesn’t want to pry, because then it might seem like he’s fishing for compliments in some weird way, but it’s alright because Tommy has never really been able to keep his opinions to himself.

“Don’t get me wrong, he was a good man, but physically? Completely different.” He passes Joel the flask again, “He was blonde, couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it, and let’s not forget younger than you, he was so small and slight, and completely hopeless with anything around the house.”

Joel’s ears prick, “But she told me when I fixed her step that he always handled that kinda stuff?”

“That’s because I did all the fixin’ and let him pass it off as his own,” Tommy shrugs, “Don’t ask me why, I guess I can see why she’s gotten under your skin, she’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, one of the only girls I would protect with my life, outside Maria and Ellie now.”

“Does that mean that back porch was all your work?”

“Course it was Joel,” Tommy chuckles, “He was a lovely man, nice as pie, could never do anything wrong to anyone, we all loved him, loved them together, but brother I can guarantee that there’s no way you’re just going to slot into his place, because you’re nothing alike.”

“I don’t think that’s really what I’m worried about, I just don’t want anyone to think that I think the only way to help her is to take her to bed.”

“You’ve been her friend first Joel,” Tommy reassures as he stands up to make the walk back to Jackson, “This is how things happen these days, you meet someone nice, do nice things for them and if things are meant to be, they’ll be.”

“When the hell did you get so wise?” Joel chuckles.

“Just focus on the fact that all she said was not right now,” Joel nods in agreement at Tommy’s words, “And maybe, stop acting like you’re fifteen again and just open your mouth and talk to her, you’ll never know what she really means, or feels, if you don’t.”

The sky has decided to match your mood suddenly. Gone are the bright blue skies and the sun, replaced with grey clouds that you think threaten to burst open and soak you any moment. It would be a mercy if they did, it would give you an excuse to leave and go home. It’s like the weather knows that you want to turn and run - it’s why it’s holding off on the rain.

You’re stood in front of Mark’s gravestone and it kind of feels like you’re having a strange out of body experience. You shake your head and remember the fistful of sweet peas in your hand, cut especially for him. When you look down at them, all you can really hear is that fucking southern drawl that Joel has saying that nickname. You curse him, because even now he’s front and center in your mind.

You set the flowers down on the earth in front of the gravestone before settling yourself down on the ground with your knees pulled up to your chest. Where do you even start?

“I’m sorry,” Seems a good a place as any, “I’m sorry I’ve not visited recently.”

It’s like you’re expecting a voice to respond back, a lump appears in your throat when you realise he’s not going to answer you, “It’s been really hard recently,” You continue speaking, eyes on the gravestone, “I’m trying to get back into life here, I mean, I’m sure if you’re out there somewhere you’ll know, I’ve started going back to work, and I can finally leave the house without Maria.”

A lone tears drips down your cheek, which you brush away, “I’ve even made new friends, there’s this new guy here called Joel and his daughter, Ellie, well, he treats her like a daughter, but he lost his first daughter on outbreak day,” You’re rambling, even to his gravestone, you’re rambling, “Anyway, that’s not important.”

You’re quiet for a moment because you really don’t know what to say, “I wish I didn’t miss you so much, Mark,” You sniff, “It would make this so much easier, but I think Joel might become more than my friend, I don’t even know how it’s happened Mark and I’m so sorry, I don’t feel like I’ve mourned you for long enough, but he’s a good man, he’s kind and God you’re so different from each other, but I think he might be good for me.”

There’s such a relief in admitting this to yourself more than anything, that Joel might be good for you. You’ve always been different around him, whether you wanted to accept it all not. He could effortlessly pull smiles from you, make you laugh, make you cry when he was kind to you, he’d pushed you in ways you really needed.

“I think I know you’d want me to be happy Mark,” You sniffle through tears, “But God, if you’re there, give me a sign, just give me something, I’m begging you,” You rub at your face, “Please?”

You don’t really understand what it was you were looking for. Before all this, your friends had told you that their loved ones came back as something to signal they were still around. You remember Jessica from your high school math class mentioning her grandfather came back to visit them as a bumblebee because he liked gardening. Your parents hadn’t reappeared as anything, you hadn’t noticed an abundance of anything that might signify that they were looking out for you, and this was no different. There was nothing, no birds singing in a tree that you could convince yourself was Mark.

You drop your head into your knees and resign yourself to the feeling of emptiness when there’s a warmth on your back. You lift your head and turn around. The sun is breaking through the clouds behind you and when you look around, the sun is beaming directly onto you and Mark’s gravestone. A sob leaves your lungs and the biggest feeling of relief washes over you. Maybe it was the biggest coincidence you’ve ever known, but by God you’re going to take it. The sign you’d begged for. The sign that you knew you didn’t really need. The sign that Mark would want you to be happy, and if it’s Joel that did that, then so be it.

You rise to your knees and put a hand on the top of the gravestone, lightly pressing your lips to it, “Thank you.” Is all you whisper before you’re gone.

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gretagolden · 2 years

Text

like friends do | sam kiszka

sam kiszka x fem!reader (or oc if you prefer!)

summary: when on vacation with his best friend, sam faces a dare that brings buried feelings to the surface and forces him to face the feelings he swore he’d always keep a secret. | word count: ~3.8k

warnings: nothing much, a bit of play-wrestling in a paragraph, i suppose my grandmother would barely consider it nsfw if she squinted, nothing really that explicit at all. | please excuse any errors! | as always, reminder that my blog/all of my fics at 18+!

notes: likes, reblogs, replies, interaction in general etc. are always appreciated! i’m finally back to fics, and a dear thank you to all the friends i’ve been using as soundboard all week. it was originally based off of one of those friends to lovers prompt list and then whole thing took a life of it’s own, so credits to whoever reposted that for inspo<3 i do have a mini playlist that i listened to religiously while writing this the past week if anyone wants it as well. anyways, i hope you enjoy! psa: i've wiped my taglist and am restarting it! so if want to join my taglist, just send me a message or an ask and i’ll gladly do so!

part two!

Sam looked at her out of the corner of his eye; book tented over her face, a pair of his old jean shorts unbuttoned and folded at the waist over her swimsuit, her knees bent and her feet flat against the grass of the lawn.

Underneath the book, her lips contorted into a smirk, humming briefly before she spoke, “If you’re going to stare, Sammy, you might want to learn how to be discreet.” She teased him carefully, pulling the book off her face and turning her head to glance at him, squinting from the sun.

He rolled his eyes in response, thanking god he was already sunburned to hide any blush that would threaten to creep across his face. “I was not staring.” He said, a tone of defiance and nonchalance in his voice. Of course, that was a lie. He’d most definitely been staring at her, he’d been stealing glances at her for years. He’d tried to stop, kept hoping one day he’d be gone on tour long enough that when he came home he’d be able to be around her without feeling like his heart was going to leap out of his chest.

It never worked, and vacations like these hardly helped; no one wore anything close to a full outfit at the lakehouse, and so there they were – Sammy and the best friend he was hopelessly in love with, laying in the yard half-naked in swimming suits for what felt like the millionth hour in heaven before he was shipped out onto a tour that would separate them for weeks on end.

She laughed, the kind of laugh he wished he could catch in a jar like it was a lightning bug. She rolled over onto her stomach closer to him and propped herself up on her elbows to look down at him. He’d gone to close his eyes again, but he knew she was looking over him from the way she blocked some of the brightness of the sun and her hair reached down to tickle the side of his cheek.

Lightly, she reached up to run her fingers over the bridge of his nose and across his face. She let herself admire him: the freckles that were cropping up from the summer sun and his eyelashes, the shape of his upper lip. She supposed she was the one staring now, like a hypocrite, but wasn’t he used to it by now? The way so many people fawned over him day in and day out. Her Sammy, she supposed, belonged to the masses now, but she comforted herself knowing they didn’t get to love him like this – tracing the microscopic details of his face. She gently blew her breath across his sunburn, and when he gently brought his hand up to move her face away, she smiled.

“Are you flustered?” She asked, moving a stray strand of hair off his face, “Samuel have a little crush?”

“Dear god, no.” He teased back, lying through his teeth, “you’re the worst.”

“I dare you to prove it.” She said before she could take it back, and immediately began to internally chastise herself. Cursing herself for being so brash and bold, so childish. Sam’s eyes flew open, staring at her with a look that was more alarm than confusion.

“What?” He questioned, staring now unabashedly, taking in every detail of her face that might help him read her expression to figure out what she might mean.

She looked away from him, pulling out grass from the yard in her fist. “If you don’t like me, kiss me,” she shrugged. She suddenly felt an intense sort of shyness. She turned back to him, sprinkling the grass across his chest, “it’ll be obvious then, and I promise I’ll never tease you about it again. Everyone else in town right now anyways.”

“Just to see what it’s like.” She offered, and then, as if to lighten the mood, “If you’re not too chicken.”

Sam rolled his eyes at her works, repeating her words in a mocking tone — if you’re not too chicken — before launching quickly, sitting up in a swift moment and grabbing her wrists, play-wrestling her down onto her back. She laughed again, loud and uninhibited, as the grass she had left in her grasp fell away and the pair rolled and fought one another. Flailing limbs grasping at each other, hair obstructing any chance at a clear eyesight, Sam’s hands at her torso tickling her sides until she managed to get the upper hand, getting her grip around his hands and fighting her way to get above him.

His chest rose and fell intensely, heart racing when he realized their position – the girl he was hopeless over straddling above him. She let his hands above his head go slowly but he didn’t move them; he let them stretch out as they laid against the grass, his palms facing up towards the sun. He didn’t move, swallowing harshly and trying to gain his composure before speaking, “you good?”

She nodded stiffly, measuring his face with her gaze, “More than.” She ghosted her thumb over his lips.

All hope was lost when she kissed him, the dare thrown into the lake like fish bait. Even if there hadn't been any feelings before, there certainly would be now. He could taste the watermelon they’d eaten for breakfast in her mouth and her fingers shifted to lightly thread into his hair framing his face like a halo after coming undone from his bun. Was this it? The best moment of his life? He didn’t think anything could ever compare, certainly the taste of watermelon would be ruined forever. He tried to memorize her; the curve of her lip, her breath, and the feel of her skin. His hand slipped up, grazing across her collarbone and running down the side of her torso to her waist and his shorts that she wore, his index finger curling around an empty belt loop of his shorts at her side.

She couldn’t care about the consequences of the moment when all that was running through her head was a chant of his name, careless of the boundary that had been crossed. People didn’t kiss their friends like this. It was reckless, but she couldn’t keep up a facade of cool anymore –– especially not when his touch felt like fire. Did he kiss other girls like this? She prayed he didn’t, that she was special; if he’d kissed anyone else like he was kissing her, it seemed impossible to her that someone would ever be able to find pleasure in anyone else’s lips ever again. She liked the idea that he was giving her his all, that he was just for her, even if it was just for this one moment.

He gently tugged her closer into him, and she whined quietly in his mouth. Another sound he wished to store in the lightning bug jar, he noted to himself just as the sound of the gravel started to creak in the driveway at the front of the house and she pulled away, much to his utter dismay. He groaned slightly at the loss of the contact. She pulled away with a gasp that Sam had only heard before when she’d break up through the water after jumping off the dock.

She slid off him to kneel beside him and collect herself, Sam’s hand still lingering on her hip, afraid that the moment would evaporate into another one of his dreams if he lost contact with her. She looked over at him, he had propped himself up on his elbows but hadn’t moved. He reached for her face once more, and she let him pull her in again, chasing after his lips just as much as he did hers before her brain caught up to her body. She shook her head just slightly, realizing how lost up in the moment she was getting, and pulled back.

“Satisfied?” She asked as she stood up before he could reach for her again. It was her desperate attempt to regain her composure before she’d have to face the others inside.

No, he thought, I’ll never be satisfied again. “Yeah,” he said instead, nodding though still stunned.

She nodded curtly without another word, taking a deep breath before disappearing back into the house to greet his brothers. Sammy stared after her in disbelief, and remained frozen in his place.

The rest of the week was agony for Sam as she avoided him, her warm smiles and lingering touches suddenly turned into a cold shoulder towards him. Danny thought he was being ridiculous, Josh teased him for acting so weird, Jake hit him in the side of the head with a frisbee when he caught him staring off into space lost in his thoughts and called him a philosophical narcissistic for believing that whatever he was thinking about was profound enough to get lost in for three days straight.

She didn’t say a thing, it seemed like she held her breath every time he even got close to her. Found an excuse to scurry away whenever they found themselves alone in the same room. It made him fear the idea that he had hurt her somehow, and the thought was so upsetting it made him ill. But he felt her staring at him, too, any time the others were too distracted to notice if she did. He desperately wanted to look back, but he knew that was precisely how he’d ended up frozen out from her, and by a miracle then, he found the strength not to. He watched her politely disappear into her room each night –– the room that had been his as a kid, until she had mentioned it was her favorite room once and he’d given it to her to stay in whenever she joined them without another word.

Every night, he’d silently watched her; from the kitchen, from the couch, from the dining room table, all different views of the same scene. She’d take her leave first, and when he went to bed himself he’d hear her pacing above him in the attic. He tried to pretend he didn’t hear, didn’t notice her shift as if it wasn’t eating him alive. The last night of the trip, he found himself standing at the bottom of the stairs up to the attic as if climbing them was akin to walking the plank. He forced himself up the first one –– quiet to make sure he didn’t peak the attention from his brothers –– and then the next, and the next. When he reached the top, he stepped around the creaking floorboards across the hallway. He stood outside the room for what felt like forever looking at the cracked door before gaining the courage to knock and wait for her come in! to sound from the other side.

“Hey.” He greeted carefully, pushing the door open further and leaning against the doorframe.

“Hi Sammy.” She looked back at him briefly before going back to her tasks of packing.

Sam didn’t do anything for a few moments, just watched her as she went back to her silent routine, not bothering to continue the conversation like she usually did. He cleared his throat to gain his courage before asking, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at him with an unreadable look, though internally she could feel herself slowly losing her composure. She shrugged, “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, feigning ignorance before nodding to a folded shirt on her dresser, “can you hand me that?”

He nodded, reaching for it and then handing it to her. She retrieved it without fuss, quick to pull away before he gently caught her wrist. “Darling,” he pleaded knowingly.

“What?” She asked, feeling her anxiety turn into an irritation she wished would go away. He didn’t deserve it, he wasn’t at fault — it was her, she’d put herself in this situation. It came out shaky and exhausted, she thought it made her sound pathetic.

Sam hated feeling on edge around her. He wanted to be okay with her again; curl up into her warmth without feeling misplaced, crawl under the covers of the bed and just hold her, feel the calm of her heartbeat beneath the quilt.

He dropped her hand, and took a moment instead to study the room, perhaps as though he was trying to give her a moment to ease herself. To reassure her it wasn’t his attention to upset her, that he’d give her anything she wanted if she just asked. He spotted his old teddy bear from his childhood on the rocking chair in the corner, an old family picture frame on the mantle. “You know this is the room I used to like staying in as a kid.”

“I know.” She admitted, a kind of way to offer him just enough of a confirmation to what he had already concluded on his own –– it was precisely why it had been her favorite. She was letting him in on a secret, they shared knowing smiles. It was her way of reassuring him, too. She had found his old tech decks in the night stand drawer just a few nights before, and had slipped one of them into her own bag as a keepsake.

“You’ve been avoiding me all week.” He didn’t sound accusatory, he was simply making an observation. He bit his bottom lip out of anxiety, trying to quietly find his words. “You can’t — we can’t pretend like nothing happened. That isn’t – that isn’t just something that friends do. Are you honestly going to stand here and tell me you felt nothing?”

His voice was calm, quiet and gentle. He looked into her eyes so intensely she nearly felt as though she could cover herself up somehow, like she was utterly too vulnerable to him now.

She sat down on the bed, shrugging again. “It doesn’t really matter what I felt when you’re about to get on a tour bus for six months.” She studied him in a search to find any answers tucked away in his eyes, “you said you were satisfied.”

“You can’t seriously be saying that while you’re packing my band shirt into your duffle, can you?” Sam looked at her with an incredulous and desperate expression.

She paused and sighed, eyes closed for a brief second. Earnestly, she asked: “What do you want me to say?”

Sam stood, looking at her in the soft light of the lamps in the room casting shadows against the wood of the walls, a frown etched onto his face. He took a deep breath, hands shoved into his pockets. He wanted her to say that it was worth it. He didn’t want to be the only one going through the emotional turmoil of reeling from that day. His worst fear was that she regretted it. He wanted her to like him, because it was obvious enough that she loved him, but this kind of like was different from that kind of love he’d come to know from her as a friend. How could he ask her to say that, though, when he didn’t even know what to say? He looked at her, and he had always been awful at saying what he felt, but there she was – sitting on his old bed, wearing clothes that used to be his, speaking with lips he now knew what it felt like to kiss. He could never go back, and it scared him beyond reason.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d ask you to come with us.” He told her with a sudden surge of resolve, closing the steps between them so that he was standing at the edge of the bed and looking down at her. “And I’d want you to say yes, obviously, because I’m a fucking idiot.”

Her gaze snapped up within a millisecond, searching his eyes to try to find if this was another irrational dare or not. “What?”

Sammy sat down across from her, pulling his legs into a criss-crossed fold and gently patting her knee so that she’d do the same — their knees touching as they sat on the bed like they were children. Her eyes never left his, her head spinning,

“What I want to do is ask you to come with me. Figure it out on the road.” He told her, “a part of wishes I didn’t know better so that I would.”

He knew it was a pipe dream at best. It didn't make any sense, not really, but it’s all his mind had been caught up since she’d kissed him; an image of her in the balcony of a venue watching them play as his girl. It was selfish, and entirely preposterous, but when he laid in bed watching the sunrise outside his window in the morning it’s what he wanted more than anything. But he knew what she would say, who she was. It wasn’t her, she wasn’t a portable commodity he could just tuck away in his tour bunk for comfort. As much as she had always supported them wholeheartedly, she also knew herself, and he knew her. She’d be miserable on tour, it wasn’t a secret.

“You’re right.” She shook her head with a frown, fidgeting with the folded pair of shorts in her lap. “Trust me, you don’t like me that much.”

Sam laughed at this fondly, as if she was being silly. It made her feel like a young girl again, wanting approval from him –– the satisfaction one got from earning it. His laugh made her feel as if she’d done so. She didn’t hate the feeling. “Trust me, I do,” He promised.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She maneuvered her feet between the bed and underneath his legs to maintain contact. She felt protected around him, and exposed. She could hardly explain how she felt both. “You were always the one who was better with the grand gestures of life.”

“I’d say kissing me is pretty grand.” He nudged her leg a bit, trying to find some good faith humor between them. He missed teasing her, too. It hadn’t felt grand in the moment, it had felt right, but he supposed that was the tightrope people always balanced on in love.

“It was a dare.” She whispered, bemused, amused. She placed the shorts in her lap to her side on the bed and took her turn to look at him with an expression that felt almost borderline desperate. Her body moved with her words, her nervous energy buzzing through her shoulders and head, and her hands talking almost as much as her mouth. “I couldn’t of known you kissed like that — I didn’t think you felt that way!”

He thought about his next words carefully before he said them, “I’m glad you did it.” His jaw tightened as he studied his lap, confusion etching his brows at her words, his tongue bit between his teeth. They sat in silence for a moment before he asked: “How could you not? Know, I mean.”

She shrugged, finally feeling the tenseness in her chest dissipate. “I guess we both thought we were obvious.” She said it to get a laugh out of him, and she did. She admired the small smile on his face for a moment before she answered the question he’d feigned to answer.

“I like you, Sammy,” she offered, he must know that, “but I have a life here. Those two things can be true at once.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he nodded. He didn’t know why he felt like he was going to cry, he felt ridiculous. He studied the quilt, and admitted, “I’m scared I’ll lose you if you don’t come.”

She softened, head tilted as she studied him with concern and ponderance, “And with the pressure of it all? Sammy, I’m afraid I’ll lose you if I do.”

He huffed slightly, as if both bothered and amused him in a twisted way. “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

She took his hand gently, squeezing it. She didn’t think they were damned at all. They’d work it out, eventually, when he came back and there was room to breathe. Rushing it would only rob them of it, this was for the better. “Not necessarily.”

He distracted himself with her hand, turning it over so that the palm was exposed, and he could trace the lines of it with his thumb. He held her gently, as if she was a rare porcelain he could hardly believe he was holding –– a map to a lost treasure, a key to all the secrets of the universe he’d ever need. Maybe he was being dramatic. He didn’t care.

“Remember when we were younger and I always made you compare our hands?” He asked out of the silence, and when she nodded, he smiled. “I did it initially because I liked you. I read in one of Ronnie’s magazines that it was a way to flirt. But then I just liked it, the ritual of it. Liked the idea that it connected us — that your hands would become partial mine to somehow, if we did it enough. I don’t know, like the lines on our palms would come to always know each other through all the pencil stains and calluses, or something. That I would be the only one who knows you in that way.”

It was stupid and insignificant, such a small thing. He clung to the small things anyway, life was nothing if not a collection of small and precious things. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and let them be, knowing him enough to not be bothered by the silence. He’d tell her if he wanted, there was no hiding now.

There were a million things she wanted to say; Go and be Sammy, and I’ll be here when you come back and nothing will have changed and we’ll figure it out then… Instead she promised: “You always will be.”

“We’ll be okay?” He asked, looking at her with one eye squinted shut, as if he was suddenly shy and she was the sun that shone too bright to be in the presence of so directly. He didn’t look like a rockstar, he just looked like Sammy. He never let go over her hand.

She brought his knuckles up to her lip to kiss them, a gentle gesture of fondness. She slipped her own fingers in through his when she pulled back and brought her cheek to instead rest on the back of his hand, “Of course we will.”

They rode in the back seat of Jake’s car together when they left the next morning; she rested her head on Sam’s shoulder when she dozed off into a nap. Jake didn’t say anything when he looked into the rear view only to find his little brother lost in his thoughts again, staring at her with a shy kind of awe that made everything between the two make sense.

part two!

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam gvf #sammy gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfiction #danny wagner fanficfion #gretagolden fic

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

2K notes · View notes

wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Casually (Kankuro x Reader)

Synopsis: All Kankuro wants to do is ask out the cute florist that comes to deliver flowers to the office, but of course working with your siblings means that you can never get a moment of peace.

Word Count: 1,167

Warnings/Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Minor Original Characters, Attempt at Humor, Humor, This Fic is Actually Kinda Ridiculous, Fluff, Nervous!Kankuro, Florist!Reader

Notes: I felt in a bit of a goofy mood so here y’all go

Mr. Watanabe sent Mrs. Watanabe a bouquet of flowers every week like clockwork. Where Mr. Watanabe got the money to be able to shell out for weekly flowers, Kankuro didn’t know. After all, not many floral species grew naturally in the deserts of Sunagakure, meaning that the bouquets were grown for a high price in the village green house or they were imported. And with Mrs. Watanabe working as a secretary and Mr. Watanabe working part time in daycare, the large, vibrant vase of flowers served as an unspoken mystery for Kankuro to walk by at least twice a day.

But he had no complaints. Not when you were there, because twice a week you would bring Mrs. Watanabe her flowers. You checked your card, you had her sign, and oftentimes you would chat with her by her desk during slow periods at the Kazekage office. And Kankuro was sure that at the very least, he had held the door open for you once before pretending to be busy nearby. He had a hard time admitting, even to himself, that he felt flustered by a florist. That Kankuro, bodyguard and right hand to the Kazekage, had a difficult time talking to the local florist.

“Another beautiful selection, Mrs. Watanabe!” Your voice cut through Kankuro’s thoughts. He never spent too much time on the first floor before, but for the past few months he had offered to run paperwork whenever he had the chance. You lightly kicked open the door, a vibrant group of flowers hiding your face. Kankuro looked up from the paperwork that he was discussing with the secretary as you made your way over. You placed the vase on the counter.

“Those are very nice,” Kankuro said, inwardly kicking himself the moment the words left his lips. He tuned out Mrs. Watanabe who raved about the colors in the background. You smiled at the petals before turning your attention to him. Kankuro leaned against the counter in an attempt to look casual.

“Right? I got a whole bunch of seeds from the Land of Water for a really great price. They’re just so different and gorgeous.” Kankuro didn’t know how to respond. He never engaged in flower discourse before. You motioned to him, eyes lingering to the corner of your vision. “And you are Mr…” Your forehead scrunched up the slightest bit.

“Kankuro,” he provided quickly, “Just Kankuro. And you are…” You offered him your name, although he already knew it. You smiled, but centered your attention on Mrs. Watanabe as you provided her her card and the receipt to sign. When you glanced back at him, you did so expectantly. Kankuro scratched at the back of his neck through his hood. “Hey, um, if you ever have some free time—”

“Kankuro!” Temari burst through the stairwell door, her reading glasses on and a few manilla envelopes in her arms. “Did you ever end up processing that paperwork that was supposed to go to the Leaf? They keep sending me letters about how they haven’t gotten their copy of the files and I swear I’m going to shoot down the next Hokage bird that comes to my window.” He held up the small stack of papers in his hands.

“It’s right here. We’re going to get it by the date that we told them we’d get it, so tell Shikamaru to…” he trailed off, subtly glancing your way before clearing his throat. “Tell Shikamaru to wait.” Temari groaned.

“You’re no help. I swear I have to do everything around here!” You could still hear her frustrated grunts as she retreated back up the stairs. You turned back to Kankuro.

“You were saying?” You blinked at him and Kankuro had to take a moment to process what it was that you said.

“Oh, yeah!” Kankuro almost jumped back as he shook his head. Out of all the missions he ran, all of the times he risked his life for his country, he had never felt as flustered as he did. He kicked himself, trying to channel his usual, self-proclaimed, charming cockiness. “Uh—” He leaned back against the counter, extra casual this time. —“So if you’re free at some point this week…”

But before he could get the second half of his sentence out, the doors burst open and a flurry of sand spilled across the floor. Gaara trudged in, robes dusty and slightly tattered. Kankuro immediately rushed to his brother’s side only to be stopped short by Gaara’s halting palm.

“Mrs. Watanabe,” Gaara spoke in his usual gravelly voice. Mrs. Watanabe hummed, perking up behind her desk. Gaara trudged towards the stairwell. “Please cancel all of my appointments today. I wish to be in my office undisturbed.” She scribbled a few things in her book before holding up a thumb with a wrinkled smile.

“What happened to you?” Kankuro asked and Gaara stood still.

“The sand and I got into a disagreement.”

And without another word he disappeared, leaving a large, suspiciously Gaara-sized pile of sand behind. Kankuro let out a sigh, knowing that he would have to add checking in on his brother to the list of things he had to do before the end of the work day. He ran his hands over his face, careful as to not smudge his face paint. You cleared your throat behind him and Kankuro turned to your concerned, dumbfounded expression.

“Does he do that—”

—“all the time.” Kankuro nodded and you took a sharp breath inward. A pause overtook the front office as you studied the sand slowly drift across the floor, the front doors still wide open.

“Whelp, um… Mrs. Watanabe, you have a great day.” You began to collect your things. Kankuro found himself at a loss as he stood alone in the middle of the entryway. You motioned to him, forehead crinkled again as you thought. “And you were trying to tell me something, but I actually have a few more flowers to run—” Kankuro tried not to look disappointed.

“Oh, uh, yeah. For sure…” He considered joining his brother in a bit of midday sulking. Maybe the next time around he could approach asking you out more like a mission. Maybe he wouldn’t get so uncharacteristically flustered—

—“So why don’t you just tell me at dinner tonight.” You maneuvered past him with a smile with your pen pointed in your hand. “That is, if you’re free tonight. Because if you are, you can just meet me at the flower shop.” Kankuro shook himself out of his shock.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” he said with nothing to lean on this time to look casual. He stuck a hand in his pocket as you left through the open doors. Kankuro gave a slight wave with his other. Mrs. Watanabe glanced up from her work over the glasses that sat on the tip of her nose.

“Do you even know where the flower shop is?”

Kankuro shook his head, still a bit dazed.

Notes: Despite the silliness I think I kept everyone in character...?

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

@brokennerdalert

#kankuro x reader #kankuro #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto headcanon #naruto scenario #naruto scenarios #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto #x you #x reader #reader insert

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agirlwhoisaphantom · 3 years

Text

Shades of Winter - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You finally get to meet James Bucky Barnes. You two are an instant click but would this eventually lead to something good or something bad?

Word Count: 3140

Warnings: The reader talks about past memories such as: kidnapping, torture, starvation, violence. A bit of angst. Also If you like the Hobbit movies, I'm so sorry (yes this is tw) Also if there is anything else let me know.

Author’s Note: A little bit more in-depth on who y/n is in my Bucky fics. Other than that this has been in my archives for a hot minute so.

reblogs/feedback/likes are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged! But please, DO NOT repost/steal ANY of my fics!

It has been a couple of years since you returned to the Avengers Quarters. You had been on the run before the blipped happened. But you have finally told yourself that enough is enough. You always knew that the Avengers would be your family, so you decided to go back to them.

The first person you were excited to see after a while was Sam. So, you decided to go to his hometown and give him a visit.

When you arrived, you notice that there was a party. You felt a little bit left out. But you pushed those feelings aside since Sam didn’t know that you were coming along as well.

Once you laid your eyes on Sam, you knew that you needed to sneak up on him and scare him.

There was loud music playing in the background, so you took that as an advantage. You quietly sneak up to Sam, getting on your toes as you try to cover his eyes.

Sam turns around, putting up his guard. When he notices that you tried to sneak up on him, you could see the relief on his face. He didn’t think twice but to hug you. “Where have you been? You go incognito mode and don’t visit me. I’ve been worried about you.”

You hug him back, “I just needed a break from the world and traveled a bit.” You chuckled a little bit. “But I’m back and better than ever.”

He starts to ramble as you two catch each other up on everything that has happened the past couple of years. You two start to walk up to the docks. You notice how beautiful it was with the sun setting how the sun reflected on the water. You were amazed.

“Hey, I’ll be back. Do you want anything to eat?” Sam pointed to the table that had nothing but plates of food in it. Your small smiled formed on your face as you shook your head.

Walking around, you notice so many little kids running around and having fun. It was such a positive place to be. You could feel the aura around you just filled with joy.

Without noticing where you were walking, you bump into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t-“ you look back at him. The first thing that you noticed was his ocean blue eyes. You could stare at those eyes for hours.

Breaking the eye contact, you took a few steps back so that you wouldn’t be close to him anymore. “I’m Bucky.” He places his hands in the pockets of his black jean jacket. There was a smirk on his face.

“uh, y/n” you had a confused smile on your face.

“y/n,” Bucky says in a deep flirty tone of voice, he looks around, and that smirk became a smile. “I’ll see you around y/n,” he winked as he walked away.

Why did your name sound so much better when he said it. Something about him made you curious. You were on the fence if whether or not you wanted to know more about him or just let him be a mystery. But either way, you knew the moment you bumped into him, Bucky was going to become a trouble.

During the blip, when you helped, there would be moments that Steve would tell stories of Bucky when they were younger. In those stories, Steve would describe him as the most caring friend and always attached to a book such as The Hobbit.

Throughout the day, you would occasionally interact with Bucky. He would ask you random questions such as what your favorite color was? What flowers did you like? He wanted to get to know you.

“So, you are telling me that I should watch the movies and how there are three of them.” Bucky takes a sip of his drink.

You chuckled a little bit “yes, I like the book versions better. But it’s so nice seeing them come to life.”

“I’ll make a note of that, Doll.”

Going back home, you never expected to talk to Bucky again. You didn't have any of his contact information either way, and he didn't have yours.

A couple of days pass by when you receive a message from an unknown number.

10:38 AM "hey there, are you busy this afternoon?"

You decided to ignore the message; it might have been sent to someone else instead of you.

10:45 AM "shit, sorry, It's Bucky."

The moment that you read that, it was Bucky that sent you that message. You wondered how he got your number. Could it have been Steve? Sam? Nat? That gave him your number.

These thoughts were running through your head and were interrupted by that number calling you.

"So, are you busy this afternoon?"

"No, Hi, how are you? How is life? Just going right to asking me what I'm doing this afternoon, what a great start James." You said in an annoying tone of voice.

"Hi, Doll. How are you? There is that better," he said in a mocking voice. Even though you couldn't see him, you could tell that he was rolling his eyes.

You wanted to hang up, but a part of you didn't want to do it. "So much better, thank you." You said sarcastically. "I'm doing nothing later. I'm probably just going to go home and make some dinner."

"You can always say no. But I just bought the three Hobbit movies, and I wondered if you wanted to watch them with me? And Tony is throwing a party tomorrow, and I thought if you wanted to go."

This took you by surprise, it hasn't been an entire week of knowing him, and he is already asking you over to his apartment. "Yeah, that would be fun," you said once again sarcastically. You didn't mean to sound it like that.

When you agreed that you would watch the series with him and to the party, a part of you knew that you had done something you might regret in the long run, but the other part you wanted to see where this would take you, and you wanted to explore it. Something about him made you curious, and you wanted to know why. Why, out of all the people that you had met, he is the one that sparks curiosity in you.

Once again, these thoughts are interrupted by him "I didn't hear a no, so I'm assuming you said yes. I'll send you my address. Meet me here in two hours." He hangs up.

Two hours pass by, and you were unsure what to bring, so you brought a couple of snacks. Walking into Bucky's apartment, there weren't many decorations. It seemed like he had just moved in. There wasn't much besides a small sofa and a tv. It was a very dark place with little to no light coming through.

Bucky notices that you were looking around "sorry if I had more time, I would have cleaned a bit better."

Your eyes widen as you were confused. You look around once again. His place was way cleaner than what your apartment looked like. "you consider this dirty. You should see mine" Bucky goes near the light switch and turns on the lights of the kitchen.

The instant he turned on the lights, that's when you notice what he was wearing. He was wearing a white muscle shirt with a pair of gym shorts, and his hair was messy, and you were able to tell that he had a couple of curls.

If heart eyes were a thing, you would have had them at this exact moment. Bucky was way more handsome than he was when you first met him. As the thoughts continued through your head, you knew that you needed to stop them before you ended up drooling over him.

He points to his bedroom. "I'm going to go change. I have to hide this." He was referring to his left arm. He wasn't sure how you would react to it, and he thought that he should have worn something to cover it before you decided to show up.

You grab the wrist of his metal arm. "It's okay. I don't mind. Besides that, I think it makes you more attractive" the moment that the word attractive escaped your mouth, you could feel your cheeks turn red and your body heat rise. Why did you say that? Especially towards him. Your mind was full of regrets, but at the same time, you didn't care because he was truly attractive.

Bucky covers his mouth with his right hand, trying to cover his laugh. You playfully hit his arm "this isn't funny, Bucky. I'm so close to turning around and making you watch the Hobbit alone." You crossed your arms together. You were getting annoyed with him. All you wanted to do was come over and watch movies with him.

"Fine, I'll stop. But it doesn't mean that I'm not going to hold this against you." Bucky chuckled.

Bucky goes to his bedroom, brings a blanket, and tries to ensure that his place can be as cosey as possible, even though it was dark.

Halfway through the third movie, you could see that he was extremely disappointed. If he could rate the movie, you would 100% be sure he would give it a -1000 rate. "Why the fuck did Peter tell me that these were great. They are complete garbage" Bucky raises his voice. Deep down, he did enjoy the movies. He just wanted to see a reaction out of you. But you were calm since this was your 5th time watching these films.

You couldn't help but laugh at how disappointed Bucky was. He turns to face you and notices the face of amusement you had on "this isn't a joke, Doll. I thought they would be great." He rolls his eyes.

When the movie ended, he put on the sports channel and started to watch it. As much as you loved watching sports, you slowly went to sleep. You felt comfortable around him. It had only been a couple of days that you had met him, so you found it odd.

You fell asleep on his right shoulder. When Bucky felt that you placed your head on his shoulder, a small smile formed on his face, he was unsure why he felt comfortable with you. But he knows that you were going to be one heck of trouble from now on.

Bucky looks at you and notices that you were fast asleep. He can't help but to carry you in his arms and take you to his bed. He made sure to tuck you in.

After he tucked you in, he went back to the living room and continued to watch his sports.

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

Around midnight, you woke up. Not because you had a nightmare, but because you felt like you were in an unknown location. As soon as you woke up, you panicked and started to look around. You immediately went into fight or flight mode in case If you were in danger. Walking outside of the bedroom, you notice Bucky was sleeping on the floor.

Seeing him on the floor, you drastically put your guard down. You sighed in relief that you were with him and no one else. You go into the kitchen to grab a mug to make yourself tea. When you prepared your tea, you went back to Bucky's bedroom and opened the window outside to let some fresh air in. You wrapped yourself with the blanket Bucky gave you, and you held your knees up to your chest as you drank from the mug.

This was the first time you had ever woken up without having a nightmare. You wondered why was it because of Bucky? As your thoughts were running, you could hear someone come into the room. You turn around and notice it was Bucky. "Someone is up early." He chuckled.

A smile formed on your face. "It looks like you are up early too" you rolled your eyes.

There was silence between you and him. You hated being silent, but with him, you didn't mind.

"Is everything alright?" Bucky whispered. You turn your head towards him, and you nodded. "you can tell me anything, you know." He places his hand on your shoulder.

You lift your eyebrows, unsure if he was messing around with you. "I just met you, like yesterday. Why would I-"

"Five days ago, to be exacted." He said in a snarky tone of voice as he interrupted you.

"Fine, you want to know.” You looked away from him because you knew you would start being vulnerable, and you didn't want to see Bucky's reaction or what face he was making. “For the longest time, I've had nightmares back-to-back. But oddly enough, tonight I didn't have any."

"if you don't mind me asking," Bucky takes a big gulp before saying anything. He knew that you were a bit uncomfortable, and he didn't want to push you. "Why do you have nightmares?" "I used to have them constantly because of who I was. It took me time to understand that the winter soldier wasn't me, and jeez, till this day, there would be moments where I doubt myself, but I'm getting better."

Hearing him tell you a little bit of himself made you feel more at ease. You take a big breath before you start telling him why you would have these nightmares. "At a very young age, both of my parents were killed. My brother died as well, trying to protect us. One of the Hydra agents forcefully made me go to one of their camps. I fought for the first couple of months, trying to get out. But eventually, I gave up. I thought they provided me a roof to stay under, and even though they barely fed me, I was somewhat grateful. I could have it worse. They taught me how to fight, how to hold a gun, etc. When I was a teen, I was tortured, starved more than before, and experimented on."

He grabs your hand and tries his best to comfort you. He knew that this was a lot for you to tell him. "They wanted to see if they could make me into a mutant but with every little alternation of genetics. Nothing worked. Even if it did, I didn't want them to know about it. At that point, I just was numb; I didn't want to live anymore. So I let things happen to me. Hoping one day my body just gave up. Till this day, some of those things that they did I don't remember, nor I want to." You take a small pause as you heard yourself. You felt so comfortable telling him about your past.

Your voice started to crack as you thought more about your past. You tried your best not to cry. "After I escaped, I moved to Washington, Nat found me there, and I started to work at SHIELD. Nat was the only person that knew me and helped me get better."

Bucky was unsure how to react to what you had just told him. He had mixed emotions. He didn't know why he felt anger, sadness, grief, and disappointing feelings towards you. But he knew that it took you a lot of courage to tell him all of these things. He sits on the floor next to you and hugs you. The second that he hugged you, you couldn't help but cry. He was the second person to know your story. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I shouldn't have told you. You've been through much worse, and I wish you didn't-"

"Doll, don't apologize. None of this was your fault. I'm glad that you told me. We both didn't deserve anything of that." he held you for a couple of more minutes and let you cry. He wanted to tell you more, that he was glad that you left when you had the chance. That he hated that you were in that position, he wanted to comfort you. He couldn't find the words. So all he did was hold you.

After a couple of minutes, you were grateful that he listened to every word you said. But you were mentally exhausted, and you just wanted to go to bed. You got up and placed the cup on the nightstand, and started to get ready to leave. When Bucky grabs your arm, "stay the night, it's already late enough to walk around." His voice was small and a bit shaky. "You can stay in my bed, and I can sleep on the floor. Please stay."

You agreed to stay the night with him, and he goes to his closet and grabs you some clothes to sleep comfortably. They fit all baggy on you, but you didn't care. You didn't want to sleep uncomfortably. The moment you got out of the bathroom, Bucky chuckled as he looked how big his clothes looked on you. You ended up rolling your eyes.

Bucky laid on the floor next to his bed. As you were closing your eyes, you felt some guilt, so you look to where Bucky was lying. "Buck, come up here." You whispered.

"Nah, I'm comfortable sleeping on the floor." He turns around, facing away from you.

You grab a pillow and throw it to him "well, I'm not. So get your ass up here before I drag you."

"I would like to see you try, Doll." He chuckled. Once again, you threw another pillow at him, accidentally hitting his head. "Fine, I'm going." He grunted.

Lucky enough Bucky had a queen bed. So you had enough room for yourself and him. "One thing, don't invade my bubble, and we won't end up fighting. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go to sleep."

Within minutes you two were in a deep sleep.

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

When you two finally arrived at Tony’s Party. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious about what was happening between the two of you.

He couldn’t help it anymore. He decided to ask you, “So, what are we?”

“What do you mean what are we, Bucky?” there was a confused smile on your face.

“yeah, like are we friends, or I don’t know?” he nervously laughed, unsure if he should be asking this.

You laughed a little “Friends is a bit too much. I don’t think we are there yet.” You teased him. You gently punched his arm.

“Are we acquaintances?”

“I like that. We are for sure acquaintances.” You chuckled.

“you think it’s funny, but I can live with that, Doll.” He shrugs his shoulders.

And just like that, two strangers who never planned on caring for one another became the most inseparable pair.

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