#and with new shoes and i HATED shopping and it overwhelmed me so much (still does)

[indigodawns]

.

[perplexingluciddreams]

Today was orthotics appointment. It is at hospital I don't like, Dad not like too because bad parking. When we get there, it was very full loud waiting room. So we wait outside the room in the corridor.

The orthotist Kirsty is very nice! With nice accent. It was loud bad place at first with other patients talking loud - even with noise cancelling headphones I struggle and get very anxious but also feel stuck could not stim like I need. I could not hear what Kirsty or Dad said because the other voices noises were louder even with noise cancelling headphones ☹️.

They could see I didn't cope, so she very kindly, look in other quiet room to see if it is empty. (Usually I go to that room). Yes, it is! So we go in there.

Then talk a lot about old AFOs. And Dad show my list of what is not-good about them. She look at my walking with shoes AND without shoes, and examine look at my legs and feet and move about and feel how hypermobile I am. And where my calf muscles is a bit tight.

She agree that my current AFOs don't work. So we try something different new. Dad showed my pictures of what I think might be better for me. So, she say they can do a similar style of rigid plastic AFO on the outside, with an inner "anklet" that is thinner more flexible plastic going around my ankle and over the top of my foot. Then that part will go inside the bigger rigid AFOs. And, I can have better straps that isn't so bulky and too tough to undo by myself. (They will just go once over, instead of through a ring and double back).

Then, she do a SCAN!! Instead of casts this time :D. I have to hold very very still it takes a LOT of concentration and effort. But I did very well. Dad said the shape of my leg showed up slowly on the screen when she did the light scanner in stripes. I didn't see that because I had to concentrate very much to stay still.

They had to stick a wire to the front of my leg for the scanner. And the tape stuck to my leg hair! And ripped some off when I took it off, ouch! But it was okay, not too sore, just mostly funny. Dad joked about is his genetics for the leg hair.

Overall, very successful appointment and it went much better than I expected! I am still very anxious about it all, because we have several attempts already that didn't work. But, Dad says we will keep on trying until we get exactly what works for me.

I always feel overwhelmed and exhausted after appointment. And always feel like I didn't communicate everything I want to - even with prepare with other people and they say things for me, even if I try try try so hard to do words, it just doesn't happen at the time. And I have automatic response to just nod head "yes" at almost everything, even if I didn't process or understand. So I worry that I seem to say "yes" or agree to things that I don't mean. Especially when I know that there was a lot of talking at the appointment that I didn't process at all. I feel so utterly lost all the time - and there is no way to really express how that affects me my whole entire life.

I hate my inability to communicate ☹️☹️. It goes WAY beyond just not able to speak. Even with all the tools and aids and help from other people... majority of the time it is simply near-impossible for me to interact with another person. It is everything about how I interact with everyone, my whole life long. And then I feel like anything that goes wrong or doesn't work is my fault for not able to communicate or explain something.

Anyway. I am knackered now, so time for rest and Celtic Woman DVD 😄. I try not to think about it anymore, just distract. And try to keep hope, but not too much, so I don't get too disappointed.

I have lemonade (Dad quickly go to shop and buy so I can have my usual fizzy drink treat after appointment 😄, thanks Dad!). And I have snack. And DVD. 😊

[jadedandconfusedao3]

Red - A Drabble for Lady Ursa's Birthday

George hated the silence at the end of the day. It made every scuff of his shoe and knocked object sound like a Bombarda. It was like it filled all the space in the shop, suffocating him with nothing. He was often open much later than the closing time listed on the door because he found the noise of the customers comforting. Their low chatter and soft footfalls acted like white noise and the little bell made his heart sing a little. Fred always used to say that it was the sound of galleons in their pocket.

He locked the door and made a beeline downstairs to the workshop.

It was only a small room with a large table in the middle. The space was warded against explosions and fire, but the smell of smoke seeped into the wood. He thought it made it feel warm. Fred had hated the smell. He was always trying to create inventions to mask it or transfigure it into something else. His last attempt lay abandoned in the corner. George still hadn’t managed to bring himself to move it yet, even after all this time.

“George?”

He looked up blearily at Hermione. She was standing in the doorway with those big brown eyes gazing up at him with concern and his traitorous heart fluttered. She was wearing a dark green summer dress with tiny daisies printed on it and it damn near took his breath away. It made her dusky pink lips all the more prominent and the urge to close the space between them and take them in his teeth was overwhelming.

But he didn’t.

With a start, he realised that she was dressed for dinner and not work which meant – he glanced down at his watch. Fuck. He’s already been in the workshop for hours.

“Shit. Sorry, Hermione. Let me just…” He frantically began to pack away his supplies.

She took two steps into the room and reached out to touch the legless chair hovering over the table.

“Don’t!” He shouted and reached out to wrench her arm back.

She looked down at where his hand curled around her wrist and then back up at him. Something substantial convalesced between them. It gathered in the air, heavy like the pressure before a lightning strike. She opened her mouth as if to say something and he dropped her arm like it was on fire.

“The locomotor charms are a little unsteady and the slightest touch makes it ricochet around the room.”

“Right,” she murmured, still looking at her arm.

George turned away. This all felt so strange. The evolution of his relationship with Hermione Granger had been unexpected. She had been his little brother's best friend for almost all of the time he’d known her, and he was sure she had dated him after the war, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. That time got all muddled up in his head.

All he knew, was that out of all the people his family sent to check up on him, and make sure he wasn’t isolating himself like a hermit, she was the one he looked forward to the most. She had never really known how to take his jokes so when she didn’t react or laugh it didn’t tear him up as much inside as it did the others. They were always telling him it wasn’t appropriate to joke right now or that he needed to respect that people were in mourning. He didn’t understand it. It was like he no longer knew how to interact with people because all the rules had changed, and no one had bothered to explain the new ones.

“We wouldn’t want you getting bowled over and showing me what colour knickers, you’ve got on today,” he joked.

She blushed, the colour spreading out in a dusky pink over her cheeks.

“I” – she started – “I don’t mind– we should get going.”

He gave her a frank look. “You want me to see your knickers? Now Granger, don’t go getting my hopes up. It’s not like I’ve seen an abundance of knickers lately.” Read the rest on Ao3.

[trashydemigodmess]

"They told me all of my cages were mental, So I got wasted like all my potential. And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that. I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere, Fell behind on my classmates, and I ended up here." - this is me trying, taylor swift

Rae passed it everyday on her way to the gym. The sign in the window. With its big, bold letters. Taunting her, haunting her. It followed her through her workout; contemplating, scheming, then pushing it away again. Maybe it’d resolve itself? Someone else would handle it and she wouldn’t have to worry about it gnawing at the back of her brain anymore. But she’d pass it again the next day, and the next, never changing. It had crawled under her skin like an itch. 

Today it made her stop in her tracks. She hoisted her gym bag up on her shoulder and sighed.

“AVAILABLE” The sign on the storefront read, “See Chiron for details”

It was on a corner, with a large front display window and a pretty, vintage white door. Just the right size for something small like a bakery or boutique or—

“Ugh.” Rae squinted. Then, after a pause, turned towards Camp.

———

She held her breath after speaking, expecting some sort of smug response, some sort of knowing glance. It felt like there were constant eyes on her back, everyone waiting for the other shoe to drop; To get her shit together, or teeter the other way and completely fall apart. It was a precarious line to balance, and she’d been going out of her way to balance on it for ages now, if out of spite and nothing else.

But, it was exhausting.

She saw people like Brent, happy and fulfilled and growing into their life. Hazel, with a house and an insane job and hopelessly in love. Even Ben, for fucks sake, falling in love with a celebrity! How’d she go from having it all together and getting out of Camp first, to now losing the race and falling all the way behind? She’d gone to Harvard, accomplished everything she was supposed to, and yet she still felt unsatisfied. There was always something just out of her reach, something she couldn’t put a finger on. Like she was unmoored and lost at sea, trying to follow the mirage in the distance. Showing back up in New Athens was supposed to be a victory lap. But two years later all she had to show for it was a big, empty apartment full of plants and her Dad breathing down her neck to find something to do with her life. It sounded stupid, but Rae felt terribly alone.

While so much else in Camp and New Athens had changed, The Big House looked exactly as it did the day she showed up at sixteen. Lots of dark wood, ancient texts, and artifacts she knew better than to touch mixed with pool noodles and clipboards and craft supplies. But, sitting in Chiron’s office was stained with bad memories. So she found herself fidgeting in the cushy chair in front of his desk, just as she had all the times she’d been there before.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Chiron smiled in reply, “I’m surprised none of your family has done this yet.”

Rae blinked, glanced around as if it were a prank. “That’s it?”

“Well, there is the paperwork and all of the legalities, of course.” The centaur adjusted his glasses as he sorted through some files in his desk, “However,” He glanced at her full gym attire, “If you don’t have time right now we can always schedule a time for you to come and do that later.”

“Oh.” Rae cleared her throat. Why was her heart racing? “Um, yeah, I can come in sometime this week. Whenever works best for you.” 

“Excellent,” Chiron pulled out his calendar—of course he still used a physical calendar—“Congratulations, Reagan, the shop is all yours.”

It was a terrible, crashing realization mixed with overwhelming relief as she walked back out into the sunshine. Rae hated it, but maybe it had always been that easy. Maybe the only thing that’d been in her way was…herself.

Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone, of course.

When she passed the shop on her way back to the gym she stopped again. This time, she pulled the sign off of the window, a small smile on her face as she shoved it in her purse and continued on her way.

[lets-dance-to-joy-division]

It’s always a bit strange, looking back, isn’t it? At least I hope I’m not the only one with these divisions and extremes. Like my life has been sectioned off into bite-sized chunks of emotions defined by moments, shifts in personality. I wasn’t always such a good person you know; not so kind or caring, but I wasn’t always bad either. Before anything, I was just a kid.

Childhood can be a lonely place, but there’s a certain peace you can find in solitude. It’s where all that’s weird goes to think and know what they are. I had enough time alone to know I was poor. I knew it when I never saw my friends at the food bank on Saturday mornings. Or when I’d stare down at the hammer loop on my baggy carpenter jeans and think about how much I hated it all, how I wished cousin Jimmy would find a new style for me to inherit. Even now I can feel the quiet slipping in, a silence screaming “you don’t belong” when all you want is to be invisible.

I knew it couldn’t be helped, and while I didn’t have much, I did know love; you made sure of that. So, I sealed up my needs like duct tape patchwork on a sinking ship, just to hold onto the moments I could with you. Knowing I’d be swept away again, wondering how many months it would be until you came home. At least there was solace in knowing when the last time is the last time, the small comforts of seeing with your own eyes.

And when you were gone so was everything. Those first few weeks are mostly a blur, but I remember my friend Brandon and Julie, his mother, coming to get me that next morning after sleeping on the neighbor’s couch. How the apartment hallway was still so thick with the ghost of you, I could choke trying to breathe, walking through that cloud to pack my things. More than anything I remember being afraid. Afraid of not knowing what happens next.

I suppose at least that’s where I got lucky, Julie will always be like another mother to me. After all, for six weeks she was the closest thing I had. At times I still wish I could have stayed; that I really could have had brothers. But seasons change, don’t they? If you’ve ever seen a spring in Michigan, you know how unpredictable they can be. By July summer settles into place, though, and about that time I was starting to find mine too.

And then there you were. The three of us were pretty clueless, really; you didn’t understand where I’d come from, or children at all for that matter. I had no concept of anything outside of my reality. Remember my first trip to a shopping mall? I was 15, you two took me in, amazed at how nothing I had fit me. Meanwhile, I was amazed that a place like Kohl’s existed. I’d read about department stores in books, but seeing one was nothing short of overwhelming to a kid who thought small town K-mart journeys were a special treat.

I cried in that changing room; I didn’t get new things, but the cart was filled. Shirts, jeans, colors I liked, things that felt like me. I wish I could have been brave enough to show you those tears. You were brave enough to show me, after all.

You remember, don’t you? Over by the shoes. I took off my worn-down size sixes to find that the sevens were still too small, eight, that’s where we landed. And for a moment you were human, flawed, like the rest of us.

“Your shoes are two sizes small? You’ve had these for a long time; why didn’t you tell your mom you needed new shoes?”

“I knew we couldn’t afford it. I didn’t want to make things harder.”

And that was my truth; it didn’t hurt; it just was. So, I couldn’t understand the tears in your eyes when you hugged me. I think that’s when you started to understand where I’d come from. I just wish sometimes I wasn’t so like a Michigan spring. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused, and hey, I know you are too.

Love you, see ya soon.

BL

P.S. I still have those shoes.

[jayflrt]

🎀 update to redeem myself

first of all i just finished catching up with yfi786 and i LOVE IT (i hope i got the numbers right LMAO) it’s so amazing and this latest chapter was so good lis! ur always putting out amazing stuff for us 🤍🤍

second of all, the marcus thing. I KNOW ITS BAD, but trust me im not trying to have anything with him especially if hes currently with his girlfriend and i’ve even told him that i dont want to do anything at all with him if hes still “with” his girlfriend. it feels morally wrong and he would be doing her dirty even if she treats him like shit and cheats on him constantly. just recently me and my friends went to the beach and he’s a lifeguard there for the summer and i was getting drinks for me and my friends and he saw them so he was like you know catching up with them and stuff and out of nowhere he started asking questions about ME like where am i, how have i been because i’ve left him on delivered for like a week and a half. and it wasn’t until he saw me come up that he started talking to me and paying attention to me. and it’s just so weird because he’s unfollowed his girlfriend on every platform and even deleted pics of her but she still has them up? it’s so odd. i don’t want to be anything with him though because i know it’ll hurt me in the long run even if he does like me. like it would be so much easier to let him go if i hated him but i have no reason to because he’s so good to me :( AND when he asked me to the formal he wasn’t with his gf HE WAS BROKEN UP WITH HER.

my summers been good you know, i’ve mainly spent it at home because this school year was soooooo stressful i just need time to have a break and kind of recharge my social battery.

recently i’ve been writing a LOT more, like that fic i told you i had in my google docs girl it’s GOINNNNN.

how have you been lis! how’s work treating you :(? also that vacay sounds FUNNN where yall going??? AND I LOVE NEW PCS. i’m so excited for back to school shopping (im a stationary SLUT) -

hihi 🎀 anon!! how have you been?? 🫶 i hope life's been treating you well 🌷 !! also you did get the numbers right!!! funny story it was supposed to be 768 initially but i was the one who messed up the numbers 💀 so i'll never put it past you if you happen to mix them up!!

this guy is so confusing omg 😵‍💫😵‍💫 why did he get back together with the gf if she cheats on him sm?? especially if he started paying more attention to you after he broke up with her ?? i'm so sorry ml i would be so overwhelmed and lost if i was in your shoes rn 🫂 i feel like this guy needs to sit down and figure out wtf he wants because he cannot be wavering from side to side !!

no i totally get that 🥲 my social battery always DIEDD at the end of the semester and thankfully all my hometown friends are the same because they'll be like yeah let's hang out in a few weeks after we have a social battery again LOL but i hope you enjoy the rest of your summer !! 💗 AND OMGGG tell me more about the fic you're writing if you don't mind sharing 🤭

also work's been stressful but we're getting by!! 🥲 i also just get fatigued sometimes when it's hot so rn the weather has me like 😴😴 and im going to miami !!! 🥰 super excited because this friend group i'm going with hasn't been on a trip together in soooo long :') AHHH SO MANY NEW PCS i recently bought some jeonghan and jay pcs im 🧎‍♀️ I LOVEEE STATIONARY SHOPPING but mind you i've used like the same mechanical pencil throughout college i just kept replacing the lead 😭😭

[duckybarnes1917]

Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 5

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

Summary: After a rough night, you and Bucky spend some time a part Christmas shopping for each other. You can Christmas shop while tracking down the Tracksuit Mafia, right?

Warnings: Reader's alcohol problem, drug mention (Xanax), angst, sitcom level ridiculousness. Note: Sam and Yelena are friends in this series, and right now Yelena is living with Sam and Sarah. Bucky and Reader are also friends with Yelena. Reader was best friends with Natasha before she died.

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

12 Days Before Christmas

“Guess what!” You bounded into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist. 

Bucky was taken aback by your chipper voice. 

Is she just going to pretend that last night didn’t happen?

When you kissed his cheek, he smelt it—your breath was minty with a faint twinge of alcohol underneath. 

He watched  as you moved to the fridge for a water bottle and then placed yourself on the counter next to him.

“Hello? I said, guess what.” 

“Sorry, uh, what’s up?” Bucky turned off the oven and pulled a tray of bacon out. 

“I just got off the phone with Sam. Both of you have been invited to the opening night of Rogers.”

Bucky frowned at you. “And?” 

You rolled your eyes. “All of you remaining Avengers are invited as special guests. Don’t you want to go?”

“Hard pass,” Bucky laughed as he put bread in the toaster. “Do you want a breakfast sandwich?” 

You were already picking a piece of hot bacon off the tray. “No,” you said with your mouth full. “I’ll probably pick up a smoothie when I’m out.” 

“Out? Where are we going?” 

Bucky piled his toast with the whole pan of eggs and six slices of bacon. 

You hopped off the counter. “Not we; I’ve got to go Christmas shopping for you.” 

“I’ll close my eyes, promise.” 

You smiled at him as you put your shoes on. “Bucky, to be honest, I just need some alone time too. Is that okay?” 

“Oh–is something wrong? Did I do something last night?” 

You slipped on your jacket and wrapped a scarf around your neck. “Nothing is wrong. We’ve been together every second of the day for like two weeks. I’m sure you need a break too.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky turned back to the stove, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Oh, don’t look so sad,” you grabbed your purse, grumbling about how much you hated the old ratty thing and went to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it. We’re still going to see Christmas lights tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky pulled you closer. “Be careful. Love you.” 

“Love you more,” you said with a smile. “Think about the musical!” 

Bucky watched you leave, his apartment way too quiet without you in it. 

Jesus–I can survive one day on my own.

He sat at the table and turned the tv on for noise—his thoughts were too loud in the silence. You had made it clear that you weren't ready to be completely open with him, but he needed to do something. You were drinking—in secret, you weren't sleeping, you were anxious and secretive.

Maybe I should call Sam…. 

Bucky tapped his greasy fingers on his phone but decided against it. 

I’ll just talk to her tonight. That’s what partners are supposed to do–talk to each other. 

As he finished his breakfast, he refocused on figuring out how to spend his day. 

Lunch with Nakajima–no, bad idea. 

I could check in with Sam about the Power Broker..but I’m not supposed to be working.  

He stared at the Christmas tree, his one gift sitting under it, and got an idea. 

Christmas shopping it is.

**

The wall of purses in every shape, size, and color had Bucky utterly overwhelmed. A sales attendant had already tried to help him, but he didn’t even know what to ask for. Sensing an easy sale, she showed him the most expensive options and finally moved on to a new target when a wealthy-looking older couple approached. 

He knew he was probably overthinking this, but he wanted the gift to be perfect. He tried calling Yelena, who knew less about purses than Bucky did. 

“Is Sam there?” Bucky sighed. 

“No, he’s out with his nephews. And I’m offended you want his opinion over mine.”

“Yelena, you told me to get her a vest with pockets—I’m sorry if I want a second opinion.” 

“You’re making a mistake but whatever. Hey, are you going to the musical thing? Sam wants to know if we can crash at your place.” 

“Absolutely not,” Bucky scoffed. “You’re going?” 

“Sounded fun, so is that a yes on the apartment?” 

Bucky felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and turned around. “Hey, I gotta go–real help has arrived. And no, you two can not stay here–my apartment is tiny, and I don’t even have a couch.” 

“Fine–go with the vest.” 

“I’m hanging up now.” 

Bucky ended the phone call. “Sorry about that,” he awkwardly gave Nicki a side hug when she went in for a real one. 

“So, what am I here to help with?” Nicki asked with an excited smile. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry for bothering you–you didn’t have to come all the way down here; I could have just sent you pictures.” 

“I was already in the area,” she lied. “Plus, I love Macy’s. What’s up?” 

“I’m trying to pick a purse for my girlfriend, and I am totally lost.” 

Bucky looked away, distracted by noise only he could hear, and missed Nicki’s face fall. 

“Oh, sure, I can help with that. What does she like?” 

Bucky turned around. His eyes swept the store. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” 

“I thought I heard–never mind. Um, I don’t know, she likes black?”

“Black is a bit boring for a gift–you want it to make an impression.” 

Bucky refocused as Nicki walked through the aisles of dark-colored purses, making a beeline for the bright hues ahead. 

**

You dived into a clothes rack and tried to catch your breath. Things were not going as planned—you had not planned on running through Macy’s trying to hide from the Tracksuit Mafia. Ivan was supposed to be alone—an easy target. But when you separated him from the crowd, a knife pressed to his back, you were blindsided by the rest of his gang. You had barely been able to escape—running into Macy’s to evade them.

“Gotcha!” 

Ivan’s hand reached into the clothes rack, but you were too quick. You grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back as you jumped out of your hiding spot. 

“What the hell happened to your hand?” You twisted his arm further as you looked at the round wound in the middle of his palm. 

“Fuckin’ arrows,” he spat. 

“Arrows?” You ducked just as one whizzed past your head and landed at the feet of another Tracksuit approaching. Orange goo gushed out of the arrow and cemented his feet to the floor. 

“What the fuck?” You whipped around and caught a glimpse of a young woman dressed in purple and black running away. 

“Sorry!” She yelled over her shoulder.

While still staring after the dark-haired woman, you powered on your taser bracelet and gave a quick shot to the back of your victim’s neck, knocking him out. 

“I wouldn’t stick around here if I were you.” 

You turned back around, on your feet, ready to attack. 

Clint bent over and retrieved the trick arrow off the ground. 

“Clint? What are you doing here?” You relaxed your posture. 

You had only met Clint Barton a couple of times. Nat, your late best friend, liked to keep her Avenger life separate from her friendship with you, but Clint had been the one exception. 

“Disappointing my family. You?” 

You followed him as he jogged away. 

“I was trying to get these assholes off my back. Care to help?” 

“I’m a bit busy with my own thing right now,” Clint fired an arrow up to the level above them, setting off a cloud of smoke. “I suggest you get out of here before that wears off, and they can see again.”

“Wait, do you know who they’re working for?” 

“No idea–German, I think.” 

You threw your arms up in frustration as Clint leaped over the railing and left you alone. 

You looked around, smiling sheepishly at the stunned patrons. You were in the clear right now–you looked over the railing; the lower level was empty too. You started to turn around but did a double-take when you heard a familiar voice from down below. 

Was that–? 

“Shit!” Your thought was cut off when your feet were swept from underneath you. You rolled out of the way as one of the Tracksuits aimed his foot at your face. 

You scrambled to your feet, ducking behind one of the perfume counters. “Excuse me, sorry!” You pushed the employees out of the way as you ran, throwing expensive glass bottles at the assailants behind you. 

**

“Are you sure this is the one?” 

“Yes!” Nicki nudged Bucky’s elbow. 

He looked over the bright yellow, floral handbag one more time before reluctantly handing over his debit card. 

“Trust me, she’s gonna love it.” Nicki looked up to the floor above them. “I think something is going on up there.” 

Bucky followed her gaze; there was a weird cloud of smoke and–was that Clint Barton? 

He watched Clint run out of the store with a young woman and then looked back to the second level. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear people yelling and glass shattering. 

“We need to go,” Bucky grabbed the gift bag from the saleswoman and pulled Nicki out of the store. 

He searched the streets for Clint, but he was already gone. 

“Is everything okay?” Nicki barely got the words out before Bucky was shoving her into a cab.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, distracted as he dialed your number. 

“Um, okay—are you getting in?” 

Bucky shut the door, barely looking at her as she stuck her head out the window.  “No—thanks for your help, though.” 

Come on, pick up, pick up. 

Dammit, doll, where are you?

Bucky kept calling, walking as fast as he could back toward home. 

**

You slid down the escalator and ran toward an emergency exit as fast as possible.

How many of these assholes are there?!

For every Tracksuit you took down, two more took his place. Three of them were on your heels—you needed to lose them outside.

Can I get into a cab before they catch up to me?

You turned over your shoulder—there were five of them now—you had no choice but to keep running. You pushed through the emergency exit, setting off the alarm, and ran around the building toward the street. You skidded to a stop in front of a shiny black motorcycle, the keys and helmet sitting on the seat as if left there just for you. 

Another lucky break, I must have a guardian angel. 

You stuffed the helmet over your curly hair and took off, leaving the Tracksuits behind. You abandoned the bike a few blocks away and hailed a cab. 

You sat in the stiff seat–exhausted, and pulled out your vibrating phone. Bucky had already called six times. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear my phone,” you sighed, already dreading the panic you knew you would hear in his voice. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt. 

“Yes, I’m on my way home. What’s wrong?” 

“I saw Clint today. At Macy’s—he was fighting someone.” 

“Oh?” You bit your lip. 

“Yeah, I just needed to know where you were.” 

“All good, no excitement on my end.” you felt a trickle of blood on your cheek and cursed under your breath. 

“Thank god, I’ll see you soon.” 

You hung up and pulled your compact out of your purse–your face was a mess. You’d have to explain the cut on your cheek, and as you relaxed into the seat and felt how sore you were, you knew there would be bruises to explain. 

You needed to be more careful.

**

Excited to show you the dinner he had prepared, Bucky opened the door before you even knocked. 

His face dropped when he saw you. “What happened?” Bucky pulled you into the kitchen to look at you better. His eyes were wide as he examined your cuts and bruises.

“I um–” you fumbled, trying to find an excuse he would accept. “I wasn’t paying attention, and I fell in the subway station. It’s not a big deal.” 

Bucky took a deep breath, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it and led you into the bathroom. 

“Wait!” You cringed when Bucky opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit. 

He stood up and turned around slowly with your bottle of vodka in his hand. 

“Doll–”

“Don’t make a big deal out of this; it’s nothing.” 

“Nothing? Look at you!”

You frowned and looked at your reflection in the mirror. 

Oh. 

That’s why he bought the excuse so quickly. He thinks I’m a drunk. 

“Did you think I hadn’t noticed? Your hands shaking? The smell of alcohol on your breath? Did you even go Christmas shopping, or were you out drinking?” 

Bucky opened the bottle and poured it down the bathroom sink.

Your face flushed as you watched him—you were too mortified to do or say anything. How had you forgotten to get him a gift? 

“Doll–you’ve got to stop this. It’s not healthy.” 

Embarrassment quickly turned to rage, and you pushed him away when he tried to touch you. “Nothing is wrong with me!” 

“I didn’t say that–” Bucky followed you back to the kitchen. 

“Yes, you did. You don’t get to tell me what to do, Barnes!” You grabbed his backpack and scarf. 

“What are you doing?” 

You shoved the bag into his hands. “Leave.” 

“What?” Bucky scoffed. “I’m not leaving.” He stood still as you opened the apartment door. “I’m just trying to protect you!” 

You rolled your eyes. “God, you sound just like Stephan. I don’t need your protection. Please–I just need some space.”

Bucky shut down completely, stalking past you and slamming the door without saying anything else. 

He heard you lock the door behind him and his fist clenched. He was about to leave the building when Nicki’s door opened, her head popping out. 

“Everything okay?” 

Bucky gave her the best smile he could muster. “Great.” 

Nicki stood in her doorway, eyeing him. “You know I can hear through these walls, right?” 

Bucky nodded and avoided her eyes. “Sorry.” He started to walk toward the elevators. 

“You could hang out here until she cools down–if you want.” 

Bucky didn’t think about it; he nodded his head and went in. He would rather wait next door than wander around in the cold New York streets. 

**

You sank into the warm water of your bath and sighed. Your body was sore, and your mind was racing. With no more alcohol left in the apartment, you had taken a Xanax, and it was finally starting to kick in. 

Maybe I was too hard on him. 

Balancing everything was clearly not working. The only reason you were keeping secrets from him was to make him happy. Yet, you had spent most of the past 24 hours fighting. 

Stephan was so easy to distract. I could give Bucky the best sex of his life and he’d be back to quizzing me right after. Why can’t he just be oblivious like most men?

You closed your eyes and let the pill relax you from head to toe. 

I just need to do better; wrap this up. Clint said the boss was German…

Your thoughts started to get jumbled as your eyelids got heavy. Bucky’s hurt face took a front seat. 

I’ll apologize after a nap. Everything is better after a nap.

**

Bucky sat on Nicki’s couch, fidgeting, waiting for you to call. 

Growing frustrated with Bucky staring at his phone, Nicki cleared her throat and moved closer to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Bucky shrugged. “We’ve never had a fight like this before. Should I just go back? Should I call her? It’s been an hour! Waiting seems like the wrong move.” 

“It’s just your first fight; it’s not a big deal. Give her space—you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.” 

Bucky looked back at his phone. “I was just trying to help her, but maybe I was too nosy.” 

Bucky didn’t know how much Nicki had heard, but he didn’t want to give her too many details. He hated seeing you struggle, but he hated you being angry with him just as much, maybe more. 

“How about some wine?” Nicki didn’t wait for an answer, quickly hopping up to grab a bottle and glasses. 

“I’m gonna go; I can’t just keep sitting here.” 

Bucky abruptly stood up and left just as you opened his apartment door. 

“Doll–I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“So sorry that the first place you go when I kick you out is her apartment?” You rolled your eyes and tried to shut the door on him. 

Bucky forced his way in and followed you into the living room. He grabbed your waist, pulling you down with him as he sat in the living room chair. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered in your ear. “I love you, and I’m sorry.” 

You crossed your arms but didn’t get out of his lap. 

He pulled you closer against his chest, one hand roaming over your thigh. “You know I just don’t like seeing you in pain. I want you to be happy. I want to be there to get rid of anything that makes you unhappy, to kiss all your wounds and put a smile on your pretty face.” 

You turned around, resting your forehead against his. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I said you were like Stephan. You’re nothing like him, and I love you so much.”

“I know, doll. I know.” 

“Can I make it up to you?”

Bucky gently pushed your lips away from his neck and held your face in his hands. “You don’t need to make anything up. But, we will be late for the Christmas lights tour if we don’t leave now.” 

“Okay,” you gave him a quick kiss on the nose before jumping up to find your shoes. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled and led you out the door. 

Bucky relaxed, happy that you weren't mad at him anymore. Maybe you didn’t have a problem–perhaps he was just being too overprotective. He trusted you to make smart decisions–he just needed to leave it alone.

Don't forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

[joheunsaram]

temper tantrums + cookies (myg)

Summary- Being a single dad is hard, especially when Yoongi’s daughter decides to throw a tantrum as he shops for groceries.

word count- 2.8k

pairing- dilf!Yoongi x Reader

rating- PG

genre- fluff, strangers2(maybe?)lovers, meetcute

warnings- YOONGI GROCERY SHOPPING, single fatherhood fears and insecurities

a.n- Omg my first fic on this new blog after the whole debacle. Thank you for everyone who followed me and bore with my clown self. I hope you enjoy this! Yes, I’m a simp for when Yoongi went grocery shopping in New Zealand. sigh.

A huge shoutout to @hobisbeautifulass​ for helping me plot this and @oftenderweapons​ for helping fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @hobisbeautifulass​

-

Yoongi groaned as he strained to open his eyes. He could barely stifle a yawn as he leaned on the stroller slowly moving it through the aisle. His phone rested atop of the little tray attached to the handles, buzzing incessantly as messages from his company bombarded the screen. Could he not have some rest even on a Sunday?

He sighed as he stopped in front of the cereals, examining the boxes, trying to decide between his craving for Froot Loops and the healthier choice of Muselli. Knowing that he would be eating said cereal for dinner this whole week, he opted for Museli, missing the days he had enough time to cook a proper meal for himself.

“Daddy! Up!” Hyunji’s lisp pulled him out of his reminiscing as he watched his two year old daughter wriggling around in her seat, arms up to coax him into carrying her. Rubbing his eyes and trying to balance his grocery basket, Yoongi crouched to her level as she impatiently smacked her hands on the foam bar in front of her. He couldn’t help but smile at her - her tiny eyes almost hidden by her rosy chubby cheeks, hair a mess as she had managed to pull one of her pigtails out. 

“We’ll be home soon, Ji,” he cooed at the chaotic love of his life, placing his basket on the floor to fix her shoe that had seemed to come undone for the eighth time this morning. However, his placades were lost on her as his daughter used her future swimmer lungs to scream, her shrill voice making him wince, but surprisingly working much better than the two iced coffees he had chugged earlier.

With a groan, Yoongi settled on the floor, trying to dodge her little feet that were kicking at him. He really couldn’t wait till she outgrew her temper tantrums. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, he pulled out a small pack of tissues, trying his best to get rid of the snot and tears that flowed down her face as she angrily fought him, her tiny fists colliding with his forearms.

“Ji, please. Calm down,” Yoongi sighed, trying his best to pacify his screaming daughter, while throwing apologetic glances at the shoppers passing by. “Okay, you want to be like that? Then let it out of your system. Go ahead.”

Resigning himself to his fate, Yoongi sat cross-legged in front of her stroller and rubbed his eyes. He knew Hyunji would calm down soon enough, and with the week he had he didn’t care if passerbys thought he was a terrible father for letting his daughter cry her eyes out in the breakfast aisle. In fact, he didn’t care that he himself was close to tears. He felt overwhelmed and bitter, the words of his mother ringing in his ears. “If only you had worked out your issues, she would be here, and you wouldn’t be alone!”

He laughed deliriously, the weeks of shitty sleep catching up to him as he pleaded with his daughter to calm down, bribing her with candy he never bought her to no avail. “Please baby, just half an hour and then we’ll be home,” Yoongi negotiated, his eyes glassy as Hyunji shrieked in response, causing him to startle and bang his shin against the wheel. He hissed in pain, grimacing with his head against the foam rod as she pulled at his dark hair. He loved his daughter, truly from the bottom of his heart, but he couldn’t wait till she started preschool next week and he could get some reprieve. 

“Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi followed the voice to see you crouching next to him. Dressed in a printed dress with little dinosaurs all over it, and a pair of red glasses that matched your shoes, you didn’t seem like you worked at the store, but Yoongi couldn’t care less. He didn’t know if his exhaustion was blurring his mind, but you seemed like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t stop staring at you, from the slope of your nose, to your hair that fell into your eyes. Had Yoongi really been that deprived of adult human contact that just looking at you made his heart pound in his chest and heat rise to his cheeks? Wow, your lips were really pretty. They looked so soft, crinkling a little on the side when you spoke. Oh shit, you were speaking!

Yoongi was broken out of his thoughts by your voice. “What’s her name,” you asked, tentatively reaching out towards the angry toddler.

“Hyunji.” 

Yoongi felt as if he was in a daze, he couldn’t stop staring at you as you reached out to lightly touch Hyunji, your fingers grabbing her little hand in something akin to a handshake. He watched in awe as Hyunji immediately stopped her screams to look at you curiously, her head tilted to the side as she sniffled. Yoongi would be upset that his daughter seemed to be more calm with a stranger than him if it weren’t for how the soft smile on your face made him lose his train of thought. It made your cheeks puff up a little and he felt his heart skip a beat at the small movement.

“Hey Hyunji! I’m Y/N. How are you today,” you said, as Hyunji finally responded with what Yoongi had spent the whole year teaching her, moving her hand away and looking wary. Yoongi felt pride surge through him knowing that his daughter wasn’t going to let a stranger act all buddy-buddy with her. However, Hyunji’s rejection made a small frown appear on your lips, and Yoongi mentally willed his daughter to be nice to you. 

You weren’t deterred however, and with another smile, you reached into your bag draped across your torso to retrieve a small stuffed toy shaped like a chocolate cookie type character. Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the strap of your bag as it rested between your chest, perfectly aligned with the slight cleavage afforded by the dress. He gulped, trying to shake the flurry of thoughts that ran through his mind like how his face would feel if it was the strap. 

“No handshake? Okay. How about a toy,” you asked, grinning and shaking the character in front of the toddler, your smile getting wider as she responded immediately reaching for the toy. So much for stranger danger training. Your voice turned high pitched and cartoonish as you pretended to be the toy, Hyunji immediately lighting up and laughing, the switch an instant 180. “Hi Hyunji, I’m Shooky! Nice to meet you!”

“Shooky!” she exclaimed, waving the toy towards Yoongi to show it to him gleefully. Yoongi smiled, cooing at his daughter. Turning towards you, he found you smiling at him, the same soft smile that made him senseless earlier. He wanted to thank you for saving him, for calming down his whirlwind of a daughter, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Is that a cookie? She’s not allowed to have cookies.”

“It’s a toy…” You seemed confused, rightly so, your eyebrows scrunched together as you blinked slowly, trying to decipher his meaning. Yoongi should’ve clarified, apologized, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t double down.

“Shaped like a cookie. That’s a slippery slope.” He waved towards his daughter who seemed to be bashing the poor character against her leg, giggling. He realized his type of humour was not everyone’s cup of tea and so when he watched your lips down turn, he started to apologize only to be stopped by you smirking at him.

“So you’re saying a toy shaped like a cookie is a gateway drug to junk food,” you said, an eyebrow raised at him. Your wit made him cackle, an unattractive, loud scream of a laugh that immediately turned him red in embarrassment. God, he was such a loser! He cleared his throat conscious of the way you chuckled in amusement. He really needed to get out of the house more often.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired. Thank you, really. I had resigned to sitting here for a couple of hours.” He smiled up at you as you stood up and watched Hyunjin in endearment, who was now thoroughly engrossed in ‘Shooky’. Following your lead, Yoongi made to stand up, only to realize one of his feet had decided to fall asleep on him causing him to stumble back with a groan.

“Need a hand?” You raised a hand towards him, one that he took graciously, if only to feel how soft your hands were, and they were so soft. He groaned a little as he stood, taking extra care not to pull you to the ground with him, regardless of how much he wanted to. Jesus, Yoongi. Relax, dude.

“Thanks. I swear I’m not as old as I seem,” he deadpanned as you giggled a little at his bones cracking loudly.

“I didn’t think you were old.” You shrugged in response as he thought of ways to keep the conversation going. However, his mind was blank. You looked at him expectantly, and in true awkward fashion, Yoongi averted your gaze, instead looking at his daughter. His jaw dropped at the sight before him as he squinted at his offspring who seemed to be dozing happily in the stroller, clutching the cookie under her chin.

“She’s asleep… How did you do that?” He was dumbfounded. There was a reason Yoongi still seemed like he was sleep walking even two coffees down. Hyunjin had been having trouble falling asleep for weeks, waking him up at all hours of the night. The doctor said something about her delayed teething, but at this point Yoongi was convinced she just hated him for never letting her have sugar. 

“No biggie. I work in childcare. I’ve been trained.” He looked at you in awe and you chuckled, patting him on the shoulder in an attempt to break him out of his daze. Could he fall in love at first sight? He was beginning to think, yes.

“Yes biggie! She never falls asleep,” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “What kind of witchcraft…” He looked from you to his daughter, still in disbelief as he muttered, earning a hearty laugh from you in response.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, smiling as you closed your bag and fixed the strap, and he had to physically restrain his eyes from zeroing in on your chest again. He wasn’t going to lie, his eye balls felt strained at the effort.

“Yoongi. But seriously, thank you. I promise I’m not a bad father,” he provided, the shock now wearing off into anxiety as he thought about how much of a crap father he seemed to be so amazed at seeing his daughter fall asleep. You shook your head at him, a small sound of disapproval leaving your lips.

“I think you’re a great father, Yoongi. Don’t worry, toddlers are hard.” The praise made his heart stutter as blood rushed to his ears. The way you softly affirmed him made him feel seen. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that, and to be honest, he felt a little emotional.

“I… thank you. I’d like to say you’re wrong but yeah, especially alone,” he spoke quietly. He didn’t know why he specified he was single. Maybe to see if you were as interested in him as he was in you. He didn’t think it was possible. Who would want to be with a single father who couldn’t even handle his own child in a public space? He felt his insecurities gnaw at him as he descended further into his head. His sudden silence may have alarmed you because before he could say anything, you touched his shoulder gingerly, the feel of your fingers scorching him through the thick layers of his sweater.

“Well you’re doing great. Professional opinion.” You smiled and Yoongi wanted to cry. Why were you so nice? He missed nice. He hadn’t had nice in a long time. He wanted to say something, ask you for your number, but that seemed too forward so he settled for gratitude, as you picked up his basket and handed it to him.

“Thank you…”

“Cute,” you giggled quietly. “It was nice meeting you Yoongi.” 

Much to his disappointment, you started walking away. He really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Hope always led to dismay.

“You too, Y/N. Really great.” He sighed, almost wistfully, resigned to the fact that he would probably never see you again as you waved and turned around.

“Say bye to Hyunji for me.”

“I will.”

----------

He looked at his daughter with pride as she stood in front of him, her dark hair in two slightly lopsided braids, that had taken Yoongi an hour to master through youtube tutorials. He couldn’t help but feel a little choked up as she excitedly pulled on his arm all but running towards her classroom, her frilly pink dress swishing with each step. He couldn’t believe she was old enough for school already - preschool, but still. 

Yoongi tried to stop his brain from conjuring up pictures of her future; her graduating, her walking down the aisle. No, screw sleep, he didn’t need it. This was too fast. He held her hand tightly, reluctant to let her go as they reached the door. 

What was he supposed to do now that she was going to be gone all day? He could almost feel himself tear up at the thought of how much he was going to miss her, and she was still holding her hand. Maybe he could ask the teacher if he could just sit and watch. Sure he had to be at his home office to start work in thirty minutes, but he could just say he suddenly fell ill.

However, all thoughts as well as his breath left him as his eyes fell on a familiar figure - the beautiful, kind woman from the grocery store. You. 

This time around you were dressed in a dress that had little planets on it, looking a lot like Ms Frizzle with your hair in a top knot. Yoongi didn’t know whether to be ecstatic that universe had given him another opportunity to talk to you or be depressed because he knew he would never be with.

“Yoongi!” The joy and surprise in your voice made his face crinkle in a goofy smile that he had absolutely no control over, as he fiddled with his fingers, Hyunjin quickly abandoning him at the first sign of new friends. She definitely did not inherit her stellar social skills from him, as he stood there unable to form a response other than a shy utterance of your name.

“I was hoping to run into you again,” you said, beaming blindly and Yoongi blushed.

With his heartbeat accelerating, he realised that those eight words were probably the best he had ever heard.

-

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[littlemisslipbalm]

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.

or

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?

[gryffindors-weasley]

A Sweeter Ending

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a dreadful day, you have Colin to wipe your tears and make it better.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: bad day, crying, mentions of food, brief mentions of alcohol, insecurities, comfort, fluff, kissing

Disastrous. That was the best way you could have described your day—absolutely disastrous. It seemed as though a string of clumsy bad luck had wrapped around you from the very moment you woke up, weaving around everything you did and everything you will continue to do. You were certain there was nothing that could go right and you have yet to be proven wrong from that thought.

Presently, you sat in the quiet tension of the carriage, Colin’s blue velvet coat settled around your shoulders as his hand enveloped yours. Benedict sat across from you, Violet to his right, and you allowed yourself to do nothing more than to look out of the small window as tears spill silently over your heated cheeks, one after another. Your lip quivered pitifully from the weight of your frustrated emotions pressing heavily upon you, and it was far too quiet for you to allow yourself to sniffle. You hadn’t even wanted to wipe your cheeks; even that would be far too obvious an action. You were completely and utterly miserable, hopelessly exhausted.

It had started when you had woken up an hour later than you should have, thus making you ridiculously late for your final fitting at the Modiste. For the dress you were to wear at the ball that very evening. She was incredibly understanding as she always had been, but the embarrassment burning your cheeks a more than noticeable shade of pink as you stood on the platform to be fitted was obvious. To you, to her, to anyone in company at her shop. You felt rather rude for being late, a handful—a dozen apologies sputtering past your lips. It had set the tone for your day ahead.

Several little inconveniences had rained upon you since that morning, whether it may be the way you nearly tripped as you made your leave from your carriage. Or the way the drizzling rain had caused your hair to be needing fixed, the once beautiful style now dampened and dull. You felt horrible for the need to have it done again; it was not a simple task and you had already felt annoying from earlier that morning. It felt as though you couldn’t make it a mere five minutes without tripping over your feet or the skirt of your dress either, wanting nothing more than to let your frustrated tears spill over your cheeks. But you couldn’t, that would have to wait.

Then, as the day passed agonizingly into the dinner with the Bridgerton family before the grand ball that evening, the one the Queen would be in attendance to, matters had gotten far worse. All had been well as it always had when you were in their presence. They were a delightfully warm and welcoming family, one full of love and laughter. But your mood had quickly been soured when you accidentally spilled your wine on the front of your newly stitched dress. As if to make matters far worse, your hands instinctively reach to blot the mess, effectively staining your satin gloves a matching shade of deep and unforgiving crimson. You were positively sure your cheeks burned the same shade as the beverage spilled all over you and beaded across the delicate fabric.

Mrs. Bridgerton hadn’t minded the incident, of course not. You had been a family friend nearly the entirety of your life, and her son’s true love. She could never be bothered by such a trivial mishap, she knows she’s made quite a few herself. But you, you felt absolutely terrible. Not only were all eyes on you, not out of mocking in the slightest, but their joined gazes had the tears pressing further behind your eyes. Not to mention, the time and effort put into the making of that dress was now ruined by your blunder. To be completely and dramatically honest, you wanted the fancy intricacies of the floor beneath your feet to open up and swallow you whole.

The ballroom. That had been a disaster of its own. All was perfectly well and as it should be, your first dance of the night had gone perfectly until it tapered off into a myriad of misfortune. You had lost your footing more times than you had cared to even think about for more than a second, bumping into a couple dancing and easily throwing off their rhythm as the debutant in question sent you a rather rude stare. On a good day it wouldn’t have bothered you, you simply would have offered a polite nod in apology and moved on, but today was not a good day. The action paired with your earlier troubles had a small frown tugging at your lips, one Colin had been quick to change just with the softness of his smile and the kindness of his reassurance.

It was wishful thinking for you to believe the flurry of bad luck had ceased after that, but said luck has a funny way of presenting itself over and over. It had done just that. You would have been fine if it’d been left at your clumsy mistake, it would have been more than preferable. But you knew the moment the dreaded Lord Berbrooke had spilled his lemonade on you, on your new and fresh dress, you knew that had been it. Furthermore, Cressida Cowper’s taunting laughter had been more than enough reason to want a change of scenery. To want to go home. It simply was not an option to continue to subject yourself to further upset and embarrassment.

So now there you sat, in the confines of your carriage as you sulk in your own feelings yet you still try to keep them at bay all the same. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been quite so bad on a different day, one that had been more smooth sailing. Perhaps you were being dramatic, they were minor inconveniences after all. But the build up of one thing after another after the next had pushed you to your very limit no matter how minute and silly it may have been otherwise. Everything small had a large impact on your worsening mood, like the hair brushing stubbornly against your cheek or the back of your shoe rubbing against your heel.

You hated to feel this way, to be so overwhelmed when there wasn’t necessarily a reason to be so. It made you feel as though you were acting childish and difficult. It made it worse.

After a while you took a deep breath, shaky and upset, the hand in your own squeezing tighter ever so gently as his thumb brushed over your skin and you could feel his gaze on you. The small action had made your heart flutter, the affectionate kindness of it. You decided against risking a glance at your love, however, you knew you’d break in an instant if you allowed yourself to do so. It was then that you felt a nudge at your foot, shifting your stare to the brunette across from you.

“At least it smells lemony fresh in here, does it not, Y/n/n?” Benedict grins, immediately swatted harshly on the arm by his mother, sent a glare and a complaint from his brother.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and a soft laugh leaves your lips, however, a brief moment of humor breaking you from your misery if only just for a second. He’d seen the tears glimmering on your cheeks, he’d seen how upset you’d been ever since dinner, he knew he had to do something. And he’s glad his valiant attempt did not prove to be futile.

“I suppose you’re right,” you sigh in amusement, rolling your eyes.

You nudged his foot in return, sharing a mirrored look of scrunched noses and smiles. You appreciated the moment of lighthearted distraction, the tightness in your chest easing some as the soft laughter mingling in the small space began to dwindle and die down.

The rest of the ride had been quiet after that, the obvious tension having lessened considerably and your tears not quite as incessant as before. They still welled upon even the slightest thought of what had transpired that day, of the unsurprising cruelty always emanating from Miss Cowper. You knew better than to let her get to you, but a bad day will change such things.

—

When you arrive at the Bridgerton home, they bid you a loving farewell, Benedict sending you a pout of sympathy. He had even blown you a kiss before his mother had pulled him along by the wrist.

“Are you alright, my love?” Colin asks now that the company had since left, the carriage departing from his family home and towards your own shared estate. Despite the absence of an audience in the current moment, he still spoke softly, his gaze focused on you attentively as he awaited your response.

You nod, trying not to let the question get to you as much as it was trying to but the quiver in your lip had said otherwise. The soft tone he’d used was enough to make you burst into tears for that matter. His frown had gone unseen but his sigh not unheard, and soon you felt his lips press tenderly to your temple. They lingered before another was placed in the same spot as the first, and you finally allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder.

You had hoped you weren’t being difficult to be around and you had hoped you weren’t being bratty towards anyone you encountered, but the dreadful day had taken its awful toll on you and it was becoming far more challenging to suppress its impact. Grateful seemed to be a vast understatement when it came to Colin Bridgerton. He was impossibly sweet and incredibly patient, and he bestowed upon you the utmost of love no matter the situation. So yes, you would have to say that grateful had been a rather large understatement.

“I love you,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to the scar just under his chin. “Very much.”

He looked down at you with a smile, kissing the tip of your nose. “Have I ever told you that I love you more?”

You laugh softly and let your eyes flutter closed, feeling his kiss on your and a squeeze to your hand.

“I believe you’ve done so today, more than once if my memory serves me correctly.”

He squeezes your hand lightly in playful retaliation at your jesting, exhaling a sigh that mingled with his laughter. “Well, it is only true. I love you more.”

—

You sigh softly upon finally entering the comfort of your bedroom, a place you so longed to return to, shrugging Colin’s coat from your shoulders in absolute defeat. You were desperate to rid yourself of your lemonade stained dress, the pale yellow splotch that splattered across the front only taunting you by that point. Your feet ached and you felt utterly drained.

It was a pitiful struggle to get it off in your terrible mood, one that required several huffs on your end and a chuckle or two from Colin just paces away. But you had done it, hastily draping it over the chair by your vanity and refusing to give it a second glance.

“Would it be so bad to ask for help sometimes?” Colin asks, smiling warmly as another soft laugh leaves his lips while he rolls up his sleeves. His vest lay in a heap on the chest at the foot of the bed, shirt half unbuttoned as he looked at you fondly despite the angry frown you held.

“At this point, yes, it would,” you state, sighing as you smooth down your nightdress, the tears welling once more. They had not been done with you just yet.

His dimpled smile fades only slightly, and he steps across the room to stand before you. He looks at you for a moment, taking your face in his hands. He was gentle as he wiped your tears; his thumbs swiping gingerly across your flushed cheeks, a kiss pressed to your rosy nose. His forehead rested on your own then, his hands sliding down your arms to grasp your hands securely.

“I know that today has been rather unlucky—far more than most,” he chuckles softly, his laugh puffing against your lips and his nose bumping yours. “But do you wish to know something, darling?”

You nod against him after a brief moment, lip still wobbly and eyes still very teary. His eyes fall closed as he smiles, one that goes unseen in the close proximity. “Do enlighten me.”

His lips press to yours before he speaks, tender and fleeting and coming in a flurry of affection. So lovingly sweet he’d just about forgotten what he was ready to say, what he was doing. But he quickly regains his train of thought when laugh softly.

“Even with wine and lemonade dousing your dresses, even with your hair being what you have deemed to be out of place or ruined, even with your teary eyes and reddened face—you are still and always will be the most radiant. It is perfectly well to cry, but you must know that I shall always be here to dry your tears.”

You lift your head, looking up at him fully. “Do you really mean that?”

Your voice was timid and your cheeks flushed softly, and you watched as the corner of his mouth had quirked up as he nodded. You smile, pressing your lips on his in a soft kiss. One that deepened while still remaining gentle and tender and all consuming in love. One full of soft brushes against the other’s lips, small smiles when your breath tickles the other’s skin, where noses bump and nudge affectionately.

He pulls away reluctantly, kissing you twice more before looking at you, sincerity painted across his expression as his smile widens and more so upon the reappearance of your own. In a matter of moments he lifts his hand, leaving you to raise your brow in curiosity though you knew just what he was up to. You always knew.

“What?” You ask anyway, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

“Would you care to offer me this dance?”

You bite your cheek to hide your smile at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, at the sheer amount of love held in a mere gaze. Love for you and all your clumsy mistakes. For your ups and downs. He offered you a dance, something he knew that never failed to set your mind at ease so long as it was just the two of you. With little thought and not a drop of hesitancy you take his hand, allowing him to pull you closer as your laughter follows at the sudden action.

He lifted you and spun once, your squeal eliciting the most delightful of laughs from the both of you as he brought you back down to the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a flurry of kisses to his cheek before he too did the same.

“I must say, I believe this is the best dancing you have done all night,” he says, your playful glare having him tipping his head back to laugh. Soon he lifts your hand and twirls you, pulling you back to his chest and you collide with another fit of giggles. This was certainly not of proper dancing etiquette by any means, not even a little bit, but it was a dancing belonging entirely to the two of you.

You rest your hands on his chest, his heart bounding beneath your fingertips before you hug around his neck once more. Ruffled curls of brown had fallen over his forehead, nearly dipping over his deep blue stare as he gazed at you.

“I love you,” you say, swaying softly about the room as your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Tremendously, I love you.”

The dimples in his smile return as he kisses from your cheek to your jaw, from your jaw to your neck, to the corner of your mouth and most lovingly to your lips. “And I love you more. Tremendously, I love you more.”

The day might have been terribly disastrous from the start, but now, you had a sweeter ending.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @elennox03

[hockey-fics]

I didn't know you already had a request with number 47! so maybe number 13 from the angsty prompt list with petey? please?

Thank you for the request! 

Prompt: “You did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it” with Elias Pettersson 

Warning: insinuations of sex

Word Count: ~3,400

Moving to Vancouver was a big step for you. But the job was too good to turn down and the apartment you found was a little too perfect and all the pieces just fell into place too easily to not do it. 

The transition was difficult though. Your workplace was smaller than you expected and almost everyone who worked there was much older than you. Meeting people in the new city was hard. It was cold and rained all the time and you found navigating the larger city difficult, getting lost more time than you would care to admit. 

But then you met him. 

Elias. 

He had stepped through the apartment lobby doors, hesitating when he saw you struggling to drag a box that contained the pieces of a desk you had ordered online. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The desk would fit perfectly against the window in the den of your apartment, it was absolutely beautiful, and it was on sale. But now that you alternating between bouts of yanking or shoving it across the all too big lobby you were beginning to wish you hadn’t made that purchase. 

“Do you want some help?” Elias had asked. 

You had looked up at him, immediately caught off guard. His voice was soft, an accent that you couldn’t immediately place. He was tall and handsome with intriguing blue eyes and a reassuring smile. 

“I-,” you started, standing up straighter and glancing down at the box. You hated asking for help, even when someone was offering. Hated it even more when it was a stranger. But at the rate you were going that desk wasn’t even going to get into your apartment for a sizeable amount of time. 

Before you even have a chance to deny the help he was offering he had stepped closer, silently letting you know that it was okay for you to say yes. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out in relief as he leaned down to pick up the opposite end of the box. Together the two of you navigated the box into the elevator and up to your apartment. 

Elias had helped you bring the box into your apartment. You introduced yourself to him before he left and when you mentioned that you were new to the city Elias had given you his number, told you to call him if you needed anything at all. 

And for awhile you didn’t contact him. Not because you didn’t want to. Truth be told you would have loved to have called him because the city still felt so lonely and he truly seemed like such a nice guy. But every time you contemplated it the idea was outweighed by worry that you would be annoying him. 

But then a few weeks later you were having a truly catastrophic day. Like always you left for the skytrain, because it was just as quick as driving and you didn’t have to pay for parking at work. But you ended up being late, missing your train and being a few minutes late to work. Where you were immediately berated by your manager despite your apologies. And you tried to put that behind you but throughout the rest of the day you were slightly frazzled and nothing seemed to be going smoothly. By the time the work day ended it had started pouring, typical Vancouver rain that could be heard pounding off the roof of the building. Dumping the contents of your purse onto your desk before leaving you realize you had forgotten your umbrella at home. So you packed up your stuff and prepared yourself for the miserable walk to the skytrain station. By the time your commute was over and you had hustled back to your apartment you were freezing cold and soaking wet. And as if the day couldn’t get worse as you rifled through your purse you realized your keys were missing, mind flashing back to dumping your purse contents onto your desk at work. 

Groaning you stare at the locked lobby door of the apartment building. A few minutes of contemplating your options you pull your phone out, dialling Elias’ number. 

“Hi,” Elias answers after a couple rings. “How’s it going?”

“Could be better,” you admit, huddled under the awning outside the lobby door to protect yourself from the rain. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

“Can you let me in?” You ask, not knowing what you would do from there, the key to your actual apartment missing as well. “I think I forgot my keys at work.”

“Of course. I’ll be down in a minute,” Elias assures you. 

And true to his word he was opening the door a few minutes later, letting you into the warm lobby. Droplets of water drip off your jacket and onto the doormat as you wipe a combination of rainwater and tears from your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying till the situation had calmed down a bit, till you were away from the loud stormy weather. 

“Are you okay? You look cold. Do you have the keys to your apartment?”

Shaking your head you wrap your arms around your body. “No, I’ll have to call a locksmith or something, I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can wait in my apartment if you want,” Elias offers, stepping towards the elevator as you trail behind him, feeling cold, miserable, and deflated. 

You step into Elias’ apartment behind him you stand on the doormat, careful not to get water on the hardwood floor. But you’re not sure how to handle the situation so you stand in one spot, watching Elias kick his shoes off and step into the apartment. 

“You can come in,” Elias tells you, smiling gently. “I can get you some clothes, if you want to shower and warm up you can do that too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” you tell him, pulling your jacket off and hanging it up over one of the hooks by the door, pushing your shoes off. 

“I’m not doing much,” Elias comments, nodding towards the hallway. Following after him Elias points out the bathroom, leaving you alone for a moment and returning with an armful of clothes. “Towels are in the cupboard there,” he tells you, gesturing towards the cupboard by the door. “I’ll be out in the kitchen, take your time.”

Something about how kind he was, how considerate he was left you feeling overwhelmed. He didn’t need to be this nice to you, you had never met anyone who was so kind so soon after meeting. After standing under the hot water in the shower while the chill dissipated from your bones, you get out and dry off, pulling on the large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that you had to fold over at the waist a number of times to be able to stay up. 

Folding up your wet clothes you shuffle out of the bathroom, finding Elias in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the stove, cooking dinner with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“An hour?” You hear Elias say into the phone. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He hangs up his phone, setting it down on the counter and glancing over at you. “Hey, I called the building manager, he said they have emergency access keys to all the apartments. If you have ID he’ll be able to let you into your apartment but he won’t be here for an hour. I was making dinner though, do you want some?”

You stare over at Elias in surprise, eyes welling with tears. “I…you didn’t have to deal with this for me, you’ve already helped me more than you need to.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he assures you, grabbing a couple plates from the cupboard. “I moved here not that long ago, I had all the guys on the team for support though. I can’t imagine not knowing anyone.” 

“Team?” You ask, sliding onto one of the barstools at his bar counter. 

“I play hockey, for the Canucks,” he explains, setting a plate of food in front of you before sitting down beside you with his own food. 

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing,” you tell him in surprise. Because truthfully you didn’t know much about him aside from his generosity towards you. And so you spent the rest of the hour getting to know each other till he came with you to meet the building manager, making sure you got back into your apartment before saying goodnight. 

And after that night you two began spending more and more time together till you were practically inseparable. He introduced you to some of his teammates and some of their wives and girlfriends. 

You would spend evenings curled up on his couch watching movies. Eventually sharing the couch turned to cuddling turned to falling asleep with your head on his chest. You would go grocery shopping together, while it made sense with both of you living in the same building, the truth was that you both just wanted to spend as much time together as possible. You would go for early morning walks, discussing all sorts of deep thoughts. Going for coffee or dinner together became a common occurrence. 

And you fell for Elias. Hard. But you were uncertain about his feelings. He had always been the friendly guy who lived on the floor below you. He never tried to flirt. When you cuddled on the couch his hands never wandered. You never caught him checking you out or staring just a little too long. 

It was a Saturday night eight months after you first started hanging out with Elias and Elias had invited you over to Brock and Troy’s place along with a few other people. You were reluctant at first, telling him you didn’t want to intrude. But Elias was persistent and you found yourself sitting beside him on their couch a few hours later. The night had gone by as expected, they discussed stuff about hockey that you didn’t fully understand, you got to hear about their personal lives, girlfriends and family issues. You were glad Elias had invited you, happy to get to be more involved in his life than you already were.

“I’m going to the washroom,” you tell Elias a few hours after you had gotten there.

“Okay,” he mutters and you don’t notice the way he watches you stand up, the way he watches you walk out of the room. But Brock does and he can’t just not say anything. 

“You’ve got it bad for her,” Brock chuckles, shaking his head. 

“What?” Elias asks, only half-aware of what Brock was talking about as he turns his attention to him. 

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Brock asks. 

“How I feel?”

Brock shakes his head again, sighing loudly. “Don’t pretend you don’t have feelings for her, man.”

“We’re just friends,” Elias defends, adjusting uncomfortably on the couch as he glances around the room, looking for any distractions. 

As you wander back from the bathroom you pause outside the living room entryway, frozen with the words you hear Brock say. “You’re in love with her, we all see it.”

“She just needs a friend right now,” Elias reiterates. 

“Just needs a friend? But you don’t want to be just a friend?”

“Just drop it, okay?” Elias snaps, unusually out of character for him. 

A few moments later you step into the room, trying your best to act like you hadn’t just heard everything you heard. Was Brock right? Elias hadn’t denied it. But that didn’t mean he was right either. No matter how hard you tried to remain unfazed by the comments you had overheard you simply couldn’t, catching yourself staring at Elias just a little too often and for a little too long. 

By the time you leave that night you can’t manage to keep your heart rate steady or your breathing even. Elias parks his car and you climb out, an uncomfortable silence filling the air around you two and you begin to wonder if he knows something is up. Stepping into the elevator you can’t handle the tension anymore but you’re not sure how to deal with it either. So you let your body take control, stepping in front of Elias, one hand on the back of his neck as you lean closer to him. “Kiss me,” you whisper in the silence of the elevator. 

“What?” Elias asks in shock, but he’s grabbing at your waist already, pulling you closer. And he doesn’t wait for you to say anything else before he’s kissing you, surprisingly fast and eager. When the doors of the elevator slide open you grab Elias’ hand, pulling him out onto your floor with you. There’s a nervous excitement as you both walk to your apartment. You barely have the door closed before Elias has his hands on your hips, pulling your back into him as he leans down, pressing his lips to your jaw, reaching up to brush your hair away as he moves his lips down to your neck. 

Gasping softly you push your body back into his, hand curling around Elias’ wrist. “Please,” you whimper, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder. You hadn’t so much as kissed a guy since moving to Vancouver. And maybe it was because you were too busy to worry about going out with guys, but maybe it was because there was only one guy you were interested in and he just happened to be right there behind you. 

“Are you sure about this?” Elias asks, turning you around in his arms as he holds you by your waist. 

“Yes,” you whisper, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him along with you into your bedroom. 

Waking up the next morning you roll over, finding the bed empty beside you. The way your heart sank was a feeling you had never felt before. You had slept with guys before and it meant nothing, had woken up the next morning alone or snuck out during the night. But this felt different. Because you really thought it meant something. But clearly you were wrong. 

Slowly you pull yourself out of bed, yanking on an oversized t-shirt and shuffling to the kitchen to make coffee. Because you needed to do something, anything, to keep your mind off the fact that you had slept with your one of your best friends and he left before you were even awake. Left without saying a single thing. And with each passing hour of the day where you hadn’t heard anything from Elias the worse you felt. 

Sure, you knew there was the chance that he really wasn’t in love with you. But when he kissed you back in the elevator you thought it had to have meant something. The last thing you would have expected was for him to just leave like that. 

‘Movie night?’

The text came early in the afternoon and normally you would have replied within seconds of seeing it. But today was so different, hesitation as your thumbs hovered over the keyboard on your phone. 

‘Sure. Your place or mine?’ You finally send. You couldn’t say no to Elias, no matter how hurt you were from earlier. 

‘Mine? 7 work?’

‘Sure’ you reply vaguely. Your conversations were never like this. You always said more, talked about what the other was doing, made jokes. You can’t remember a single one word text you had ever sent him, it always needed at the very least a smiley face. 

That evening you head up to Elias’ apartment, knocking on the door and staring down at the ground anxiously. Elias pulls the door open a minute later, stepping aside to let you walk inside. “Hey,” you whisper. 

“Hi,” Elias replies, closing the door behind you before pulling you into a hug. It’s warm and comforting and you want to stay there with him forever. But you know you can’t, not after the night before. Slowly pulling back you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to bring up what happened. “Do you want to order takeout or should we find something to make here?” Elias asks. 

You’re caught off guard by him brushing past everything that happened, not acknowledging the fact that less than 24 hours before you were moaning his name. “Uh,” you hum, prepared to talk about the implications of hooking up but not about dinner plans. “Takeout.”

Elias nods, pulling his phone out and opening DoorDash. “What do you want?”

“For you to stop ignoring what happened last night,” you blurt out, staring up at Elias with watery eyes. 

Elias lowers his phone staring at you in silence for a moment. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What?” You croak, shaking your head. “What do you mean? What do I want to talk about? The fact that we slept together last night. That you left before I was even awake the next morning. Any of that ring a bell?”

“What do you want me to say about it?”

You feel your chest tightening, throat aching with the threat of tears you were so desperately trying to hold back. “You know, you did a wonderful job convincing people that you love me, I almost fell for it.”

“What do you mean?” Elias asks, eyes softening as he steps closer, arms moving towards you before you step back. 

“I heard what Brock said, about you being in love with me,” you explain. “That’s why…that’s why I slept with you last night, Elias. Because I’m in love with you and I thought maybe, just maybe he was right. Or at the very least you would have the decency to not just fuck me if it didn’t mean anything.” Wiping at the tears streaming down your face you whirl around towards the door, trying to escape before you broke down any further. 

But Elias is grasping for your hand before you can get to the door, pulling you into his chest. “He’s right,” Elias whispers. “I am in love with you.”

“So why are you acting like such an asshole then?”

Elias pulls back, reaching over to wipe the tears off your cheeks. “Because I was scared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought…I thought you just wanted a, uh, like, friends with benefits. But I know I can’t do that with you so I thought just going back to normal was the only option.”

You let out a shocked breath of laughter, clutching tight to Elias as if he might try to distance himself again if you let up even just a little. “You thought all of a sudden I would try to just turn this into a friends with benefit agreement? After all this time?”

“I didn’t think you could have feelings for me,” Elias mumbles into your hair, holding onto you with just as much intensity. “I mean, look at you. You’re perfect. And I can’t give you everything you deserve, I’m not even here all the time, so…”

“What are you talking about you?” You ask, interrupting Elias’ ramble with a quiet, surprised laugh, your hands moving to the back of his neck as you stare up into his eyes. “You already give me more than I deserve. You’re the person I call when I need anything. You come down to my apartment at two in the morning to kill spiders for me. You pick me up when I have to work late and it’s dark and you don’t want me taking the skytrain at night. You helped me repaint my kitchen on one of the very few days you actually have off. And you don’t have to do any of those things so when you’re not here to do them it’s okay, because it’s already more than I need. You’re more than I need, Elias, and I hate that you would think you aren’t.”

“I love you,” he whispers, saying it like it was a weight off his shoulders. “I love you so much,” he repeats, a smile growing on his face. 

“Should I spend the night here tonight? Or do you want me to sneak out after you fall asleep?” You joke, pressing your lips to his. 

Elias smiles against your lips, pulling back and shaking his head, clearly still feeling guilty. “Don’t leave…you don’t ever need to leave."

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (2/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic)

word count: 2,107

authors note: second part of this ongoing series! i still don't know how many parts this is going to be but i seriously want to finish this lmao. hopefully this will be a series i actually complete! please leave feedback - i truly appreciate it!

warnings: mention of bucky's death, uncontrollable sobbing, character death, a few curse words

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

recap: Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

Sending Steve off was honestly just as painful as it was when Bucky was shipped off. You didn’t want to guilt-trip Steve into staying – you knew how important it was to him to join the army and do something. However, now you were completely alone. You knew you had Becca and you could always write to Bucky and Steve, but it just wasn’t the same.

Both of your boys were gone.

Once Steve had told you about this super-soldier serum experiment, you chewed his ear off for a good 10 minutes. It was brutal, to say the least, and while pacing in your small living room, Steve sat in his seat, hands folded as he waited for you to finish.

This was his final chance to get into the army and while he hated the idea of leaving you, he needed to do something, not only with his life, but with the army. He needed to prove himself. He knew you could take care of yourself – you were independent and a firecracker – there was nothing you couldn’t do. However, while slowly trying to convince himself that you would be okay, Steve was also having a midlife crisis of his own friendship with Bucky. If he found out he left you alone while the both of them were at war, Steve knew Bucky’s reaction wasn’t going to be great.

Once you were done tearing Steve a new one, telling him that you supported him all the way, but you honestly wished he would stay – and possibly called him a dipshit in between all of that – you calmed down. With a quiet voice, you looked to Steve, “can I at least send you off?”

Steve felt his cheeks grow warm and let a smile slip onto his lips, “I would be honored if my biggest fan were there.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, “shut it, you fat-head. C’mon, we gotta get you all dolled up.”

While it was just as painful to see Steve go, you knew he’d be in good hands and wouldn’t do anything too stupid. You had told him sternly, “I want the name of your commanding officer, his commanding officer, and any fat-headed buffoons that are in charge at your camp, okay?”

Steve had shaken his head, “yes mom, whatever you say.” His eyes rolled but he had a smile on his face, “just so you can keep an eye on me?”

You hummed, “that, and to know whose ass I hav’ta kick if anything happens to you, Stevie. And if you see Bucky, you tell him I love him, you hear?”

Steve saluted before he headed towards the platform, “love ya, y/n!”

You had a small smile on your life, “love you too, Rogers. Kill some Nazis for me.”

That interaction was nearly 6 months ago, and every day felt like a new hill you had to climb over. You sent postcards to both Steve and Bucky in hopes that they would respond every time you sent one, but that wasn’t the case. You weren’t mad, nor upset, just lonely. Steve had let you know that the serum worked and he had been reunited with Bucky after taking over a HYDRA base where you learned Buck was captured. God, that letter caused you so much turmoil and anxiety, but Steve had calmed your fears, letting you know that Bucky was okay. You had also recognized his handwriting at the end, “can’t get rid of me that easily, honeybee. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard from them in a couple weeks, and your anxiety was beginning to show. Nothing new had happened, so you truly had no reason to write to them, but you did anyway, just updating them both on your life and how much you missed them. You had seen Captain America’s tours and his posters all over Brooklyn, and you were so proud of your Steve.

But it was weird seeing him so tall and…built.

Tearing your eyes away from another Captain America poster with his boys behind him, you continued your journey to some local shops, stocking up on groceries and possibly a new pair of shoes. Brooklyn was quiet today, which was certainly odd; there was nothing ominous about it, but it was not something anyone there was used to.

Hands skimming through some plums, you picked one that you knew Bucky would love. With a soft smile, you put the fruit in your basket, continuing through the store until you heard quiet whispers:

“Are you sure he’s here? The Captain America?”

“Mary, I told you, I saw him clear as day; no clue where the man was headin’, but he’s here.”

“Is there a tour or somethin’ here in Brooklyn?”

“Mary…I ain’t no mind reader, he could be stoppin’ by before he goes back off to war.”

Your heart nearly exploded out of your chest. Steve was here, back in Brooklyn? Wait – if Steve was here, then Bucky could be, too!

Quickly dropping the items you had in your hands, you ran out of the grocery store as fast as your heels would let you, passing by Grover in such a rush, he couldn’t even say hello. Crossing the street in a hurry, you grabbed your purse tightly and ran up your apartment fire escape stairs. Once you reached your floor, you grabbed your key and opened the door, being met with your Steve Grant Rogers and a very beautiful woman dressed in an army’s uniform.

“I – holy shit, Steve – oh my god,” you stumbled, out of breath as Steve stood up, towering over you, “I thought you were smaller.”

Steve stepped forward, hands out in case you fell or needed a hug, “side effect of that serum I told you about, remember?” The woman behind him gave Steve a look at the mention.

You caught your breath, “give me a hug, you doofus! Oh my gosh, those letters do you no good – nor do the posters!”

The two of you embraced as Steve held you in his arms, careful of his trembling hands, “’used my spare key, hope you don’t mind.”

You ran your hands over his back and his hair, “I get to see my best friend again, I don’t care how you got in here. Now, where’s Jamie, I – I need’ta see him.”

Steve pulled away and laid his hands on your shoulders, “actually, I wanted you to meet someone before… this is uh, Peggy Carter, she’s an agent of that Strategic Scientific Reserve for the serum and one of the best. Peg, this is y/n, the one who wrote to me and…Bucky, all the time.”

Peggy stood up, hand outstretched towards you as you shook hers, “nice to finally meet you, y/n. Steve here talked lots about you.”

You didn’t fail to notice her solemn look and the file of papers tucked underneath her other arm, “it’s, um, nice to meet you too, Agent Carter.”

The three of you stood in silence as Steve guided you to the remaining chair in the living room. With a bite to your lip, you turned towards Peggy, “I hate to be so forward, Agent, but I’ve seen those files before. I know what – what they mean.”

“Y/N,“ Steve began, “please let her –“

You cut Steve off, “Stevie…where is James?” Your eyes immediately started to fill with tears but you held them back for the sake of your own.

Peggy cleared her throat, “Miss L/N, there was a mission that included James Buchanan Barnes and during that mission, a part of the train that the soldiers were riding on exploded. Amongst the fight, we believe Barnes –“

Steve stopped her, “Peg, she – she doesn’t need to know how…”

Tears escaped your eyes as you looked at your best friend, “Stevie… Is he..?”

Steve ran his hands over his face, “he – he was hangin’ onto the side of the train, y/n, and I let him fall. I couldn’t reach him and…”

The rest of Steve’s story fell upon deaf ears. No, not deaf ears, but ones that were ringing. Bucky was dead. He was dead. He fell off a train and was dead. He wasn’t coming home.

Bucky wasn’t coming home to you.

At that revelation, your body began to shake uncontrollably as the tears fell from your eyes, unable to be stopped. You tried to breathe but the pressure on your chest was unbearable. You tried to look at Steve, but your eyes were so blurry, “St-“

No words left your mouth, only the sounds of your sobbing. Steve leaped forward, wrapping his arms around you as you cried, screamed for Bucky, for your Jamie.

"No, no, not James! Steve, please!" you cried, falling onto the floor with Steve as he held you.

Peggy let her own tear slip, overwhelmed with your reaction. Leaving his dog tags, his files, and a medal on your table, she stepped out of your apartment.

Mrs. Betty Davis stepped out of her apartment just as Peggy shut the door, hoping nobody heard your cries and screams for James. Mrs. Davis looked to Peggy, “that boy, Barnes… he never came home?”

Peggy wiped her stray tear and cleared her throat, “I’m afraid not, ma’am. He died an honorable death, taking down a,” she paused, “a Nazi base.”

Mrs. Davis shifted her gaze to the door where she could clearly hear you crying and yelling for Bucky, that he wasn’t dead. She looked down to her welcome mat, “he was a good man, always takin’ care of that girl. His heart beat for her, he turned her world. Wouldn’t surprise anyone if he had a ring lyin’ around. She was just as in love with him as he was her.”

Peggy’s eyes filled up with tears as your neighbor explained you and Bucky’s love for one another, “I had only met him once but he… he seemed genuinely good.”

Mrs. Davis gave a sad smile, “he was. Thank you…for letting me know.” Peggy nodded at her.

Back inside, your tears had stained Steve’s shirt as he held you close, “I know y/n, I – I know. I got you.”

You had stopped screaming for Bucky, but your hands shook as they held onto Steve, fresh tears still running down your cheeks. With a shaky breath, you grasped onto Steve’s shirt, “do – do you think he was in pain?”

Steve let his own tears slip but held his own, “I don’t know y/n, but I’d like to think he wasn’t. He – uh – he told me, before he fell… he told me to tell his honeybee that he loves you so, so much and he – he wanted you to have his tags.”

You pulled away from Steve’s chest, looking at him in slight confusion, “his…tags?” It had then dawned on you:

Bucky wanted you to have his dog tags from the army.

Feeling a new thread of tears about to be shed, your lip quivered but you covered it up, glancing over the room until you saw the file Peggy had sat on the table. With shaky hands, you leaned towards your coffee table – the one that Bucky would rest his feet upon all the time until you smacked them off – and grabbed the file. Opening it up, you immediately saw his army identification photo and his dog tags hanging in the middle of the file.

You shut the flimsy piece of paper before you could cry anymore. Turning to Steve, you noticed his eyes were also red from crying, “what now?”

Steve and you now sat on the floor, backs resting on one of your chairs, “I hav’ta finish what I started, with Johann Schmidt and Zola. Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded your head, wiping your remaining tears on your shirt, “of – of course Steve.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I wish I could take away your pain, but I can’t. Before Buck was shipped off, I promised him I would take care of you, and right now, I need to be here for you. So, if you want to, I can ask Peg if you can come along with us, with me, and once I’m done, we can… we can do whatever you want to do.”

You picked at your nails, anxiety swallowing you whole, “and what if you don’t make it back, either?”

“I will.”

-

Honeybee Taglist:

@clownerlyluv

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 1/16 (all chapters)

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto the stranger’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against your lover in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. Your lover sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

How on earth had you gotten yourself into this situation?

━

Whenever you looked back over the course of your life, one detail stood out far more prominently than the others.

You were a good girl.

You had never broken the law, had always adhered to the proper dress code, had never had a filling or broken a bone. You could, and very often did, define yourself by the roads you had never dreamed of taking and the decisions you had never made.

Never was it more obvious than the day you suffered your first real heartbreak. 

You had followed the rules carefully; had dressed respectably for every date; had taken care to listen to your boyfriend’s every problem. You’d learned to cook his favorite meal; had faked more orgasms than you could count to feed his ego.

You were sure you would marry that man and had mentally mapped out your next five years. You would have a simple ceremony and a child one year later, then another two years after the first. You’d named them in your imagination and frequently lapsed into daydreams about your future perfect life.

On your fifth anniversary he took you to dinner and you could barely hide your excitement. You knew he had been keeping something from you and you were so sure he was going to propose. You put on your best dress and favourite heels and spent an hour on your makeup and hair. This night was going to be perfect and your stomach fluttered as he reached for your hands across the table.

“(Name),” he said, squeezing your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

“Me too,” you said, squeezing back, willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted this moment to be so perfect and romantic that you would repeat it over and over to your future children and grandchildren. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve enjoyed all of our time together, but I think we need to move forwards.”

All you could think about was your future children; the length of their eyelashes and warmth of their hugs. You could almost smell the flowers in your wedding bouquet.

“I just...I think we’ve had a lot of fun together,” he said, “but I’m scared that if we stay like this we’ll fall into a rut. I don’t want to be married with a bunch of kids before I’m forty.”

And just like that, your stomach fell through the floor.

“Wait, w-what are you talking about?”

You snatched your hands from his, heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? You had shopped together for a new mattress only two days before. You glanced around the restaurant, looking for cameras or any sign that this was staged. If it was a prank, it was cruel.

“(Name), it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that, well… you’re like...how do I put this…”

He scratched his chin, searching for the right thing to say, even as your eyes filled with tears.

“You’re vanilla,” he said, “you’re safe, and sweet… but we’re still young and I keep thinking that I might want to try habanero or cayenne.”

“You think I’m...boring?” the words left your lips as a whisper and, while his reaction was to instantly reach out to you and apologise, the damage was already done.

“I can be habanero,” you said before you realised it. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I know,” he said, “and that’s the problem.”

━

That night you stood in your shower for almost three quarters of an hour, staring into space as the water soaked you through. 

His words circled your brain like vultures. 

Vanilla. 

He thought you were vanilla. Perhaps the worst part was that you could not disagree.

It haunted your every action for the following week. All you saw when you got ready for work was your simple wardrobe and comfortable shoes. 

You were a good girl, mild mannered and meek, and everyone seemed to have noticed before you.

Shock made way for despair. Despair turned to denial and denial quickly turned to anger. You hated your ex boyfriend almost as much as you hated yourself, scouring your apartment for everything he had ever touched.

It didn’t take long for your friends to get worried about you. Normally you were all too busy to constantly check in on the group chat you shared, but since the breakup everyone had something to say.

However kind they might have been to spare your feelings, they genuinely did seem surprised that you had broken up. You had been a couple since your college graduation and one of the only constants in the past few years as everyone’s lives took different directions. 

As was to be expected, your friends had multiple different opinions on suitable coping mechanisms. Yuiko came over with food; Hana brought wine. Sayaka called you every evening to trash talk your ex.

Then there was Rei. 

Rei was the most boisterous member of your friend group, full to the brim with the kind of self confidence that was obnoxious on other people, yet suited her perfectly. Her reaction to the breakup was not to hand you tissues. She posted exactly one message to the group chat and it had haunted you ever since.

To get over one dude… you gotta get under another ;)

You had known Rei for years and never once taken her advice, but something about that statement stuck with you. You would never have come up with such an idea on your own and it left you blushing a bright scarlet. Rebound sex was not something girls like you did, which was exactly why you had to do it.

“I’ll show you vanilla,” you muttered as you put on another layer of red lipstick and pulled your dress just a little lower to tease the lace of your bra.

━

You met up with your friends at Ego , a nightclub you had heard a great deal about, though never actually gone to. You had never had any reason to; you already had a long term partner and didn’t enjoy the idea of dancing in full view of strange men. 

You wondered if you’d made a mistake even as you took a seat at one of the tables. 

“Any lookers?”

You glanced around the room, trying to make out faces in the darkness.

“I…” you said. “I…”

You swallowed hard, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll get the next round!”

You thought that by going to fetch another round of drinks, you would be able to catch your breath and avoid drawing copious amounts of attention to yourself. You’d never spent much time at nightclubs, though, and realised your mistake once you got within twenty feet of the bar. 

Dozens of people in various states of intoxication crowded it, packed like sardines and all trying to get the attention of the bartender. You took a deep breath and took a step into the crowd, only for someone closer to the front to move and send a wave of movement through everyone else. Someone’s shoulder caught you in the chest, leaving you even further back than you had been before. 

Normally you were too polite to even contemplate shoving your way through a crowd, but tonight you weren’t yourself. You took a deep breath and put your weight into your shoulders, pushing against the others as forcefully as you could without actually hurting anyone.

At first you seemed to be making progress, though you soon regretted your decisions. As you got within a few paces of the bar, a guy in front of you slipped, the numerous drinks in his hands heading for your face.

Before they could make contact, however, someone reached for your wrist and yanked you towards the bar,  out of the line of fire. The drinks hit other partygoers and they cried out in shock; the glasses shattered as they hit the floor. You, however, remained untouched.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, turning to your saviour. 

He was tall and lanky, with black hair tied back from his face in a ponytail. He wore a black shirt, black pants, black shoes- a complete contrast to the Blue Hawaiian in his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking away from you and taking an indifferent sip of his drink.

The bartender was in the middle of clearing the shattered glass from the floor and so you waited in an awkward sort of silence, finally turning back to the man who had saved you.

“You look as happy to be here as I am,” you said. He looked the type to sit in shady bars with three fingers of whisky, not dance with inebriated strangers, which Ego was better known for.

“Wasn’t my decision,” he said. “Someone’s gotta babysit.”

He pointed towards the dancefloor, where a small group of people danced along to the beat. You couldn’t make out most of their faces, except for one, and you were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

“Is that...Present Mic?”

The stranger followed your gaze, to the man with more than a passing resemblance, who was currently wiggling his hips in time to the beat.

“Him? Nah. I don’t know him.”

“But he’s waving to you,” you said, as the man who looked like Present Mic waved his arms over his head and shouted something in your general direction. You couldn’t hear him over the music and the stranger next to you pointedly turned in the opposite direction, taking a long sip of his drink.

You had been so nervous about approaching strangers. Rei had made it seem so easy- merging into a group and catching someone’s eye. You had always had a boyfriend and never possessed the easy confidence of your friends. It was strangely reassuring that speaking to this man came almost naturally.

“My name’s (Name),” you said. “Listen, you really saved me there...this dress is hand wash only.”

“Shouta,” said the stranger. “My name is Shouta.”

“C-can I get you a drink or something? I really owe you one.”

You realised after saying it that he wasn’t even halfway through the drink in his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “It wasn’t anything special.”

He picked the pineapple from his drink and chewed at it thoughtfully.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like playing games. What is it you want?”

You were tongue tied, mortified at being caught out so quickly. You fought to keep your composure.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stammered some sort of apology or explanation, but tonight you weren’t you and there was no point in denying that you had an ulterior motive.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your nerves. “Do you want to go somewhere more...private?”

You cringed the moment it left your lips, suddenly all too aware of how forward you were being. You couldn’t believe you’d all but thrown yourself at the first guy you saw. What was wrong with you?

He climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on, taking one final sip of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

━

And so it was that you wound up in the nightclub washroom, back against the door and Shouta’s lips on yours.

You had half-heartedly discussed with your friends what to do on the off chance you found someone. You were to post to the group chat with a photograph of you and whoever you left with. You hadn’t expected to leave with anyone, much less decided on where you would go if you did.

You would never have guessed that you would wind up in a washroom, with the door sealed shut behind you. Shouta crushed his lips against yours, one hand pressed against the door, the other on your waist.

Your heart raced, heat rushing through you and pooling in your core.

“Say,” said Shouta, lowering his hand and running a thumb over your lips, “you sure you want this? Right here, right now?”

You moved before you realised what you were doing, opening your mouth and running your tongue over his thumb, looking him dead in the eyes as you wrapped your lips around it.

He hadn’t expected it, but seemed to approve, for he smiled, pulling away and dragging you into another crushing kiss. One hand he positioned above your head; the other grabbed at your clothes, pulling down your dress to expose your bra before heading south.

He lifted your skirt, slipping his fingers into your underwear. You gasped as you felt his hand against your folds, planting your own hand against the door to brace yourself. He caught your eye, tracing a finger around your clit before slowly sinking it deep into you. You reached for his shoulders, hooking one leg around his waist and pushing your lips against his. You pulled him tighter and tighter as he pushed his finger in and out of you, dragging at his shirt and belt. 

He squeezed in a second finger and you bucked your hips into his touches.

As if in response, he pulled his fingers out of you and ran them over your clit- the warmth and wetness sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. You had never felt this way before; this man was as good as a stranger, yet you wanted him so very badly. You had never felt this kind of desire before, never known how it felt to have such a growing pressure inside of you. 

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, not knowing exactly what you were begging him for. “Please—-"

“Come here,” Shouta growled, pulling you towards him and then across to the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, unkempt and wide eyed- a complete transformation from when you stepped out of the house.

You watched through the mirror as Shouta unfastened his belt and fly, lowering his pants low enough to give you a clear view of his hardened dick. He was far more muscular than his skinny physique let on, with a deep scar beneath his belly button. 

You were trembling from need, squeezing your legs together to try and fill the void his fingers had left. He smirked and walked towards you, taking hold of your hips and slowly, almost torturously slowly, pushing himself into you. 

He was bigger than you expected and you gasped at the feel of yourself stretching to accommodate him. He stopped in place, waiting for you to push back against him before pushing in further. At first his pace was slow, inching in only a little at a time, teasing an increasingly sensitive spot deep inside of you. 

“Faster,” you whined, digging your nails into your palms at the pressure inside of you. It was overwhelming your every sense, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every touch. “Please...please…”

He slapped your ass and drove in deeper.

This new pace was faster, his hips slamming into yours with such force that it sent you barreling forwards across the sink. You clung on for dear life, taking in the wet sounds as your bodies clashed; Shouta’s groans of pleasure and exertion.

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto Shouta’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against him in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. He sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

He gathered your hair with one hand and pulled backwards, arching your back as he fucked you even harder. He was getting close and you could tell; his thrusts were getting erratic and the hand that squeezed your hip was so tight that it left bruises later.

“(Name),” he said, raspiness of his voice betraying his desperation, “where would you like me to...cum”

He groaned and you blushed a bright red.

“In...inside me,” you murmured, the depravity of it all too clear. This was a man you didn’t know; you were risking pregnancy and worse.

In that moment, though, it only added to the appeal.

Shouta pulled you even closer, slowing right down to an almost painfully slow rhythm. He held you in place as he came and gasped for air; the heat of his breath leaving goosebumps against your skin.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, his warmth dripping from you as he pulled out. 

You took a deep breath and stood up straight, Shouta letting go of you to pull up his pants. He rinsed his hands under the tap and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a pile of paper towels.

“I’ll guard the door,” he said, motioning towards the same door he had pinned you against only a short time ago. “Knock when you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you said, watching him leave, “okay.”

For the first time all night, you were alone, the nightclub music in the background your only clue to your surroundings.

You walked towards the sink and took in your bedraggled appearance-bra on full display and cum on your thighs.

You couldn’t believe you were thinking it, but Rei was right. For the first time in weeks you weren’t thinking about the ex. For the first time in years you weren’t thinking about anything.

Habanero, you thought as you switched on the tap. 

This was how it felt to be habanero.

━

6 Months Later

You were still a good girl. 

That said, you no longer followed the safe roads. Not so long ago, you believed that your breakup was the end of everything, but it had actually been a new beginning.

Two months after the night at Ego , you cut your hair and quit your job. You had been there since graduation and your colleagues were more than a little desperate for you to stay. You had taken on the workload of about seven of eight people while earning only a pittance for a salary.

You had a new job now; something fresh and exciting and challenging to boot. It made you nervous, but that feeling only spurred you on.

You’d never been to UA before and it was much bigger in person. You could already tell you were going to get lost and found yourself grateful that the Principal had taken it upon himself to show you around.

“These are the first year homerooms,” he said, pointing out the doors on your left and right. “1-A and 1-B. I hope you pardon my presumptuousness, but I thought it might be useful to have you shadow one of our homeroom teachers for a couple of hours...get a feel for our curriculum and the kinds of students you’ll be working with.”

“That would be wonderful,” you said, eager to take notes.

“Wait here,” said Principal Nezu, “I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on one of the doors and stepped inside, presumably to fetch the teacher.

When he returned, it took everything in your power to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

It was him, and he was just as shocked to see you.

“Professor Aizawa,” said Principal Nezu, “this is (Name), our new guidance counsellor.”

He glanced from you to Shouta, taking in your identical expressions.

“Oh… do you know one another?”

[permanentcrossfics]

Intentional // h.s.

Gently, you hooked your fingers into the thin gold chains dangling around his neck. They were dim under the shadow of his chin and his eyes flickered down briefly as you slowly pulled the crosses out from underneath his t-shirt. You ran your fingers back and forth, moving the pendants along the chains as if they were on a zipline.

“Still looking, love?” he asked, voice slightly more strained. You nodded, extending your index finger to play with the chest hairs peeking out from his neckline.

Then, you stopped. Almost in tandem with your fist closing around the chains, Harry tipped his cap back before ducking down to kiss you. You swayed, senses overwhelmed -- his skin was under your nose, his mouth was over yours, his groan was in your ears, and his hands were slinking behind you, shielding your back as he pressed you into the shelving. Right then, he was the world. Everything and everyone outside of this aisle was muted and shunned into total darkness. Tentatively, you wrapped your hand tighter in his necklaces and tugged, and all but immediately he dug his fingers into your back without so much as taking a breath. You whimpered and, hand still tangled, you slid it up his neck. You’d just gotten your forearm around his neck when he pulled away.

“I--” He cleared his throat, eyes closed, and pulled his cap down by the brim before pushing it back up again. “Don’t think they really have what m’lookin’ for today,” he said.

Your heart sank, blood still pounding through your veins and head dizzy.

“I think-- f’we can maybe-- d’you wanna go home? Maybe?”

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Transitions were… tricky.

Before you and Harry had joined hands and taken the leap, you were convinced there was nothing worse than the agonizing tickle of did he or didn’t he, would you or wouldn’t you. There was nothing worse than your racing heart when he let his hand linger in more than friendly ways -- in the dip of your lower back, across your shoulder, anywhere he could get that wasn’t copping a feel. Nothing worse than resting your face in the crook of his neck, nose brushing his skin, and listening to him talk through his chest, voice somehow deeper that way. Nothing worse than watching his face fall when you said no, you couldn’t get dinner with him. Why? You had a dinner date with someone else.

Even now you remembered the pang of his confusion and how his easy smile had slipped from his face.

Not long after that he’d cornered you in his visibly nervous resolve. It ended with you perched on top of your kitchen counter, legs spread and him between them as you made out in sweet relief.

How’d you not known? How’d you not have any idea? You’d teased that you were blinded by your pining, but it was bad for him, too, he’d insisted. Awful wondering how to go about it without fucking up a friendship if friendship was all you wanted. All those times of trying to initiate a shift -- first with a slow drawl of, “Is this ok?” while dragging his thumb across the backs of your knuckles in more than the quick passes he’d done in the past. Then, the “All right?” he’d rumbled in your ear when he’d kept you in a hug longer than either of you usually did had you arching into him at the time. To his credit, he hadn’t laughed. If anything, he’d pulled you closer so all of you was stretched across all of him and he’d held on tight. He never let go if he could help it.

That was weeks ago -- three by now, give or take. Three weeks and the bliss of not dancing around suspicions or purposefully sidestepping signs was like a weight had been lifted from both your shoulders. Three weeks of staying in and coffees out and walking through the park after dark and in the rain because that was how privacy could be next to guaranteed. Three weeks, but no date.

“What’ve we been doing?” you’d asked when he’d made the observation over curry takeaway.

“Hanging out.” He shrugged. “Y’know? We haven’t--” sighing, shoulders slumping, he said, “I haven’t taken you anywhere, or….”

So, a date. A real date -- a first, devoid of the jitters and uncertainties that came with meeting someone new, but full of different ones. A date set with the intent of being a real date, not like anything else you’d do.

Just Harry. Just your friend, just your buddy, just someone who was no longer just anyone anymore. Harry, but your fingers shook and nearly spilled the contents of your purse when he rapped on your door.

“Coming!” you called, voice strained. Two twists of your lock later and your door was open. “Hey,” you said. Those off-white loafers he’d more than worn in, grey trousers, the cap stuffed over his hair, and the scooped neck of his tank top underneath his long wool coat assured you that you’d made the right choice with your outfit. His onceover of you was almost imperceptible -- another habit he’d sworn to you he was sure you’d noticed more than once despite himself, and one he’d thought secured him in your mind.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, stepping out and pulling the door closed behind you.

“Where--?”

Could you ask that? As friends you’d have badgered him, but as friends he’d have told you beforehand instead of omitting the plan.

He grinned, key fob in hand. “Thought we’d go somewhere we both like….”

“Which is?”

His eyes slid to you and his cheek dimpled deeper. “Maybe go listen to some music.”

***

The record shop was an institution. For all intents and purposes, it was a hole in the wall -- decades of cigarette smoke permeated the walls by at least three inches, and the thick floorboards were warped and creaked with even the slightest step. What the aisles lacked in width they made up for in height, with row after row of albums loaded onto shelving units that nearly touched the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. Some were wrapped in cellophane, but most were opened with handwritten pricemarks affixed to the front of them, colors distorted and worn from fingers and care throughout the years.

“This isn’t ‘hanging out’?” you asked quietly, scanning the shelves as you moved along them slowly.

“No,” came his answer from several steps behind you. “It’s something we like doing together.”

“Friends look at records,” you said. “Can you hand me that one?” you asked, pointing at a shelf that was just out of reach.

“Hmm?” Harry looked up from the back of a sleeve he was examining. “Oh, sure.”

“Thanks.” You took it from him and flipped it over. “Do you have this one?”

“I do,” he said. “It’s nice.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard you play it?”

Harry shrugged and you huffed. “You have everything, don’t you?” you said, putting it back. He smirked, but otherwise didn’t react, and you bit your lip, deflating, and averted your eyes. When he’d parked the car out front, you had felt a certain level of ease with the familiarity. Now, though, you felt like… Jesus, you hated admitting it because it made you sound needy, but you felt like you had to vye for his attention. You were his date, but music was his wife, his children, his wife’s children from her first marriage, and more wrapped up into one. At least before, you would sometimes catch each other’s eye in a way that felt forbidden or you’d trade stories and ideas -- anything to have an excuse to talk or get close.

You’d never had this problem as friends.

Your shoes thudded along the floor as you walked through the narrow aisles, the rounding corners and twisting through crates that were stacked one on top of the other -- rescued vinyls, CDs, 8-tracks, and cassette tapes that would’ve met some other end if they hadn’t been sheltered here. It was like stepping through the wardrobe into a musical Narnia where time was lost and you could move seamlessly across it -- decade to decade, month to month, day to day. Twisting your purse so it was behind you and out of your way, you started thumbing through albums, stopping suddenly and pulling one out when it caught your eye.

“What’ve y’got there?”

You jumped, throat closing, and nearly dropped the album on your foot. “Oh my God, Harry!” you whispered. He grinned widely, obnoxiously and obviously pleased he’d startled you, and if it wouldn’t break, you’d hit him with the record. “You absolute--”

“Dunno how you didn’t hear me,” he said. “Floors are--” He leaned back and forth, the squeaking almost musical.

“Stop that,” you said, turning away from him. You were reading the back when he slipped his hand around your waist, palm splayed over your hip.

“What’s that?” he repeated his previous question close to your ear. Wordlessly, you flipped it around and he hummed. “That’s a good one. Don’t have that, actually.”

“No?”

He shook his head and the ends of his hair brushed your ear. Your pulse quickened. Having him this close and letting him so casually step into your bubble of personal space and linger was still so new and unfamiliar. Even now, questions about whether it meant anything cropped up, tickling your brain -- surely this had to be an accident, not anything intentional. Surely he had to not even realize what he was doing. Surely none of this could mean anything.

Surely.

“D’you think you’re gonna get it?”

You inhaled quickly and cleared your throat, slipping it back onto the shelf. “I-- don’t know.” Your mouth was dry and you coughed delicately, but when you made to spin to slip by him, he got his hand on your other hip and held you in place.

“Where’re you going?”

Straightening up, something pulled behind your navel. Electric -- the word made you roll your eyes, but it was the only one you could describe the intensity of the charge you felt. Almost nose to nose, you could see every detail on his face. You’d seen them countless times before without a thought, but they were somehow more now. Every crease of his eyelids, every slight variation in the shade of his eyes, the patches of his facial hair that were thicker and darker than others, the freckle on his lip and the other on his chin and the way his throat bobbed, and--

“Just looking,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” Harry asked. “M’lookin’, too.”

The bell above the door clanged at the front of the shop. It was muted, distant, and voices were muffled. Next to no one ever came back here -- that’s why he liked this place. It was so deep, no one would ever find him. He could duck in, disappear, find a gem or three, and quietly leave without anyone being the wiser.

It was Narnia. Safe, surrounded by mentors of times gone by, with no one to interrupt.

Gently, you hooked your fingers into the thin gold chains dangling around his neck. They were dim under the shadow of his chin and his eyes flickered down briefly as you slowly pulled the crosses out from underneath his t-shirt. You ran your fingers back and forth, moving the pendants along the chains as if they were on a zipline.

“Still looking, love?” he asked, voice slightly more strained. You nodded, extending your index finger to play with the chest hairs peeking out from his neckline.

Then, you stopped. Almost in tandem with your fist closing around the chains, Harry tipped his cap back before ducking down to kiss you. You swayed, senses overwhelmed -- his skin was under your nose, his mouth was over yours, his groan was in your ears, and his hands were slinking behind you, shielding your back as he pressed you into the shelving. Right then, he was the world. Everything and everyone outside of this aisle was muted and shunned into total darkness. Tentatively, you wrapped your hand tighter in his necklaces and tugged, and all but immediately he dug his fingers into your back without so much as taking a breath. You whimpered and, hand still tangled, you slid it up his neck. You’d just gotten your forearm around his neck when he pulled away.

“I--” He cleared his throat, eyes closed, and pulled his cap down by the brim before pushing it back up again. “Don’t think they really have what m’lookin’ for today,” he said.

Your heart sank, blood still pounding through your veins and head dizzy.

“I think-- f’we can maybe-- d’you wanna go home? Maybe?”

Already? You’d only just gotten there, and you thought maybe for all his talk of a date, he’d….

Harry tilted his head, green eyes unblinking and imploring you to understand something. His cheeks were pink and he opened his mouth before closing it quickly with a mumble of, “M’mean… we don’t have to-- if you’re not, then I don’t….”

Oh.

Oh.

“Sure,” you gasped. “Yeah.”

You’d no sooner gotten the words out than he’d unwound your hand from around his necklace to hold it in his and pull you with him back from Narnia to the front of the shop and into the real world.

***

The car ride was hell. Whatever tension had settled and relaxed on the way over had grown tenfold on the way back. You were pretty sure he broke at least three rules on the way that included saying, “No one ever comes down this road, anyway,” under his breath and flooring the gas in a way that had you gripping the door and seriously debating your answer when he asked if you were ok. But the click of his turn signal before he rolled into his driveway was like a ticking time bomb.

You were home. Your friend who was a bit more than friendly had invited you home with the clear and unmistakeable intention to have sex.

With him.

That was a little more different.

Harry turned the car off and twin pops of seatbelts unfastening followed in quick succession. Abandoning chivalry, he left you to your door in favor of racing to his front one to open it up and usher you both inside out of the light drizzle that’d started halfway there.

You were walking into his house to have sex with him.

It was warm and cozy inside. Decorated in all its eccentric ways, his home felt like it was still getting used to having him home more often. Your shoes scuffed and squeaked the hardwood and his loafers padded with purpose as he went around flicking lights on to brighten the rooms. His cap was gone, having carelessly tossed it somewhere on his way in, and he was shaking his coat off when you fumbled with your bag before dropping it on the sofa and kicking off your shoes.

Ready.

Set….

“I’m--”

Gonna go upstairs.

The rest of it, though, was lost when Harry spun you by the waist and you only just caught sight of his curls — disheveled from the hat he’d stuffed them under — before he reeled you in with a smashing kiss. Unrestrained, unrelenting, and unforgiving, he was off, and it was all you could do to cling to his shoulders for dear life as he backed you up in the practiced way someone who lived there and knew every quirk and oddity of his own house might. He was free to touch, and you were, too, and you did. You touched his back, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, the zipper on his trousers, and his thighs with greedy hands that were learning as fast as they could. As in the shop, again he pulled away and grabbed your hand to lead you up the steps, and your knees quaked so badly you nearly fell down more than once on the way up.

You felt naughty. The same frantic energy of two teenagers trying to beat the clock after school before Mum came home to make dinner pricked you, and judging by the permanent smile pulling his mouth and carving smile lines deeper, he felt it, too. Hurry up, quick, before anyone caught on that you were going to have sex with your friend Harry.

“Everyone probably thinks we’ve already--”

His barking laugh cut you off -- a little wheezy, but it was deep from his belly, and infectious -- and you followed him, giggling, into his bedroom.

It smelled like him. It was the whiff you got when you hugged him, or, more recently, kissed him, but even more, and it was so concentrated it made you woozy. The bed was made, if haphazardly -- like he’d decided on it while getting dressed because he thought he should, but he hadn’t wanted to spend the time on doing it right -- and clothes were visible through half-open drawers and draped onto the stuffed armchair in the corner of his room.

“Did you clean?” you teased. He exhaled sharply and shook his head, but his mouth quirked at the corners and his cheeks were pink. Biting your lip, you squeezed his hand and he stepped closer.

“Is this ok?” he asked. Nodding, you tilted your head up slightly to meet his mouth. Less hurried and violent than the one downstairs, this kiss reached deep, stirring up nerves and butterflies. Each time he broke it, you chased him for more, and he smiled into it, pressing his warm hand on your cheek. “Gonna take your clothes off now,” he mumbled between several smacking kisses.

“Ok….”

Your clothes and his were gradually removed -- button by button, snap after snap, and zippers, too, slowly and with careful intent despite the rush you were both in. Discovering him and having him discover you was nothing short of exhilarating. Harry drew his hand over your bare shoulder with almost curious possessiveness before ducking down and sponging kisses up and down it that had your eyes fluttering shut and your head rolling back. He groaned in the back of his throat and his teeth scraped your skin when he bit you gently, pulling a gasp from you and you yourself back to consciousness.

Dazed and lips parted with each gulping breath, you stared at him. His hair was dark and twisted, pulled this way and that by your hands and his, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, the same crosses you’d tugged earlier glinting in the streaks of soft grey light peeking through his curtains. Even the most faded ink on his torso and arms seemed to pop bright and black on his skin, and without thinking, you pressed your palms to it, absorbing the warmth as you skated over him before doing as he had and leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder.

How many times had you suppressed thoughts of kissing his skin? How many times more had you indulged in them feeling guilty and unsure, because he was your friend and things weren’t like that for either of you? How many times had you wondered when you’d get to do this since things had shifted? You kissed and pulled at the skin along his shoulders, chest, and arms, relishing his stuttered breaths, and you only paused when, glancing up, you caught the look on his face. With hooded eyes and a parted, bright red mouth, he looked like a man -- not a man who was your friend, but a man you wanted to rip into and who you wanted to rip into you. A man who could, and was perfectly capable of it, and who would without even having to be asked if you only said yes, please. It was feral, it was instinctual, and you clapped your hand behind his neck before smashing your mouth to his with a desperate whimper.

Harry turned you smoothly onto his bed and you squeaked when your back hit the mattress with a bounce and he went with you. You were covered by him from head to toe, and you ran your foot up his calf, hooking it around the back of his knee. “Ha--” muffled against his mouth, he groaned immediately.

“I know,” he said. “I know, I know….”

One bra strap and then the other snapped when he slipped them down your arms, but the sting barely made an impression when he let out a slow, hot breath against your chest and peppered kisses over the tops of your breast. Nose pressed to your skin, he took a deep breath, and the anxiety that had wound itself into tight little balls in you of unchecked energy gradually loosened and dissolved. He was nervous -- not enough to inhibit him, but enough to roll off him and onto you. You almost laughed. You’d been so focused on your own perspective, you’d lost sight of the fact that this was different for him, too.

His best friend was in his bed, nearly naked, and he was about to have sex with them.

“Is this ok?” you whispered over his head. Harry stopped and looked up at you.

“Is…?” He grinned, laughing, and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s great.”

Simple and silly, that one word sent you soaring. Great -- you were great. This was great. Pushing his chest, you sat up when he rolled off you as you wordlessly reached behind to unhook your bra. You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped automatically when you shimmied it down your arms, and you smirked in a way you hoped was half as coy as you’d tried to make it.

“Go,” you murmured, pushing his chest again.

“Ah,” Harry said, doing as you asked and falling back onto his elbows. “They like to be in charge, then?”

Heat crept up through you when you straddled his thighs. “Sometimes.” You slipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, noticing very briefly how soft his skin was against your knuckles before you pulled the elastic firmly. Harry lifted his hips so you could get them down, and just as his had, your eyes dropped despite yourself. Mostly hard, he rested against the crease of his thigh. Any number of adjectives ran through your head, and you only realized you were still looking, lost in thought, when you caught the cocky twist of his mouth.

“Go on, then,” he said quietly. Snorting, you rolled your eyes and fell forward, chest-to-chest with him, and he drew you up into a kiss. Smashed together, you stayed just like that, hands stroking, dipping, and exploring bare skin. You shivered when he slipped his hand into your underwear to knead your ass, and your wriggling made him grunt in a tortured way. “Condom’s in the drawer,” he mumbled. “Gonna… have to… wait… wait here.”

Harry gently eased you away by the waist before rolling across his bed and stood to open his bedside table. You dropped your head onto his pillow and watched him with a small smile. “Were you planning this?”

He tore a condom off the strip. “No. I mean….” Harry shrugged. “Had hope that… maybe eventually… y’know…” he said sheepishly. He looked at you as if gauging your reaction. “Is that…?”

Your smile widened and you held your arm out, inviting him back, and he let out a deep breath, taking it.

“Know how t’keep me on my toes,” he mumbled.

“Good,” you said just before kissing him, arm tight around his neck. He inhaled deeply and sheets rustled as you rolled in them, turning him onto his back and sending you with him. With your weight settled on top of him, you lay there comfortably, languidly kissing through soft, breathless moans. He, for his part, seemed content to let his hands wander the sides of your breasts, your back, your hips, over your ass, the crease along your thighs, and finally….

You stilled with a gasp when he slid the pads of his fingers over you -- up and down, up and down -- before he carefully parted you with just the tips. Gulping, you broke from his mouth and rested your forehead on his shoulder with a rattling breath, gripping his bicep and shifting to bring one of your knees up. Harry grunted and adjusted himself beneath you before pressing a kiss to your ear and sliding his fingers deeper. He curled them and your mouth fell open. Beneath you, he chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he pumped them in and out of you, each wet, slick stroke somehow louder than the last. God, could he hear that? Of course he could.

“Come on,” he whispered, gradually slowing his fingers. He pulled them out and drew them up your skin, leaving a sticky trail behind. “Come….” The wrapper crinkled when you tore into it, and he pinched the top while you smoothed the condom down to his base. Hands braced on his chest, you held your breath as you settled over him.

“Breathe,” he warned, jaw tight and eyes flickering between your face and where you were above him. “Breathe, yeah? Just--”

“I’m ok,” you assured him, drawing his head between your legs, sliding it until you found your entrance. “I’m….” You trailed off into a sigh when you opened around his head, and, swallowing hard, you eased down, down, down onto him until you were nearly seated on his thighs. “Oh my God,” you moaned under your breath.

“Breathe,” Harry said again. Eyes closed, you did as he said, taking slow, deep breaths in and out. He was… this was a stretch. Not painfully so, but one regardless. You pulsed, grimacing immediately, before rocking on top of him. There -- that wasn’t so bad. Not at all, even, that was good. Hands still on his chest, you braced yourself and pushed back and forth, slowly at first and then with more certainty. Beneath you, Harry grunted and clapped his hands over your hips as if caught off guard. “Shit,” he breathed.

Eyes stamped shut, he tilted his head back, drilling it into his pillow, and you marveled at the long column of his neck. You watched his throat bob several times and you followed the path up to his sharp jawline, his tight mouth, to where his nose was flaring harshly. He laughed breathlessly and opened his eyes, but there was an unfocused gleam to them. “Y-y’killin’... killin’ me,” he stuttered. “You….”

He trailed off when you hooked your fingertips into his chains again and tugged. His chin doubled when he lifted his head and when he locked eyes with you, you grinned impishly before easing down onto him. Clapping a firm hold on your ass, he brought you down hard and you groaned abruptly. That was deep -- that was in your belly -- and your face screwed up when he did it again and again, thrusting his hips sharply against yours.

“Oh my-- Harry-- fuck!”

The bands of his rings, warm from his body heat, pinched your skin when he tightened his hold. He practically shook beneath you with the effort he was using, every breath labored, but suddenly, he stopped. Before you could so much as whisper, the world spun around you and you were on your back, empty.

“Shit!” Harry spluttered, pushing his fingers through his now damp hair. It fell right back in front of his forehead and you let out a wheezy stream of giggles. “That-- that was not supposed to be that….”

You laughed louder and he kissed your jaw, grinning against it while kneading one of your breasts, thumb rolling back and forth over your nipple. Eyes closing, you sighed breathily when he ducked down and sucked with a low, reverent groan and incomprehensible mumbles. When he stretched out above you again to push in, you wrapped both your arms around his back as yours arched with a quiet moan.

“God, this feels good,” you said, candid and unprompted, sinking into the feeling as he sank into you.

“Feels amazing,” he said. “Feels so fucking….” Grunting, he shuddered and dropped nearly all his weight on top of you. “Bring your legs up,” he said. “Bring your legs--” You complied, locking your ankles just above his ass, thighs spread wide. “Good, good girl.”

“You like to… to be the boss?” you teased, echoing his earlier jab.

He thrust sharply, punching a shout from you.

“Yes.”

Again and again he drove into you, and it was all you could do to grab onto him. He’d been holding back! He’d been holding way back! You hiccuped a breath and pressed your mouth to his shoulder, face twisted as you grappled his back with shaking fingers. This was good sex -- this was the type of sex that elevated you and made your toes shake and curl while you gasped for breath. The type of sex where you were going and going until you lost your breath right on the edge and you had to pause and feel the tickles of an orgasm slip away because it was that or pass out cold. This was sex you kissed and bit your way through and would leave you sore from your scalp down through the balls of your feet. It was roll over, lift like this, deeper, there? There sex. This sex was….

You weren’t sure at first because it felt fast, but it was confirmed with the first contraction deep in your abdomen. “Oh my God,” you moaned in disbelief. One of your hands slipped against his back and he hissed, faltering for just a moment as you uttered a pitchy, “Sorry… sorry!” while finding your hold both in his firm upper back and the softer muscle close to his hips.

“Close?” he ground out, voice muffled, and you nodded against his shoulder, turning your face into his sweaty neck. The smell of cologne and sweat was strong, almost dizzyingly so, and each new contraction brought on by his pelvis grinding against yours made it worse.

Swallowing, mouth dry, you whispered, “I’m think I’m gonna cum,” in an almost confessional tone. “I think--”

“Ok!�� he said under his breath. “Ok-- oh, shit….” He moaned, a long, loud, drawn out sound and his hips faltered. ‘Wait! Wait, fuck!” Breathless and keening he thrust roughly, like he was trying to beat a clock only he could hear, breathing raggedly under your ear. Panting, you locked your arms and legs around him. You’d never been particularly loud -- years of necessity had built a habit -- but you could hear yourself now, calling out things that didn’t even make sense, writhing underneath him like you were out of your mind. It was almost pornographic, and you almost laughed, but it got caught in your throat when your cunt pulsed and your whole body tightened.

“Oh, Harry, oh, God!”

Harry smashed a stubbly kiss to the corner of your mouth, and his chin hit yours so hard it hurt. Your eye watered, whether from pain or the intensity of him still grinding, but seconds later through sputtered pleases and increasingly frantic thrust, he groaned so deeply you felt it in you. You went entirely still as he trembled, cock throbbing, and in the next minute he’d collapsed full weight on top of you. You sucked soft, wheezy breaths in as best you could, but your lungs were crushed in your chest with the pressure he was putting on them. Just as you were about to ask him to… maybe… please, Harry… move… he pushed up and off you to the side just enough to relieve you.

“Shit!” he rasped, face planted against your shoulder. “Shit.”

Yeah. Shit. Did you say it out loud? You couldn’t tell -- you couldn’t tell much of anything anymore. Everything was somehow pleasantly hot and numb at the same time, and you were thirsty. Your head was ringing, too, and you couldn’t remember the last time sex had left you this finished. Totally and thoroughly finished.

You’d done it. You’d had sex with him, with intent, and it was incredible.

Harry slipped his hand around your bicep and squeezed, pressing kisses to your skin in silence. Your lips quirked, but any quip was half-formed, and each one died on your tongue. Gradually, your breathing settled and the roaring silence did, too. Outside, the clouds had passed, and raindrops clinging to the window panes were slowly drying up in the sun that’d deemed it safe enough to peek again. It was still early -- after the nerves, the jitters, the trip to the shop, dancing around each other, and flooring it back to his place, and the sex, there was still most of a day ahead of you.

With a final squeeze, Harry kissed the top of your breast before rolling away, bed creaking beneath him. Shaking his head, he stood, and picked his trousers off the floor before patting them down and taking out his phone.

“S’get summat t’eat,” he mumbled, voice thick, as he passed it over to you. “Lemme buy.” He gestured to himself vaguely. “Gonna go… and maybe pick up that record you didn’t know I had.”

He stumbled, waving you off when you giggled. Just the same as before -- lunch in the afternoon with albums spinning until you couldn’t stand to get up to change them again -- but with a few crucial differences that made it so much better.

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (3/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, falling more in love with Nestor than we already were originally (if that’s even possible)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m a sucker for characters building relationships. Humans slowly getting to know each other and get more comfortable with each other??? Friendships and feelings developing?? Sign me the fuck up lmao. As always, hope y’all enjoy xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolon​ @the-radical-venus​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ (If you want to be tagged in this fic or any of my other writing let me know!)

A few days into the new arrangement, you and Nestor had started figuring out a little bit of a routine. There were a lot of quiet moments between the two of you—you realized that he wasn’t much of a talker and you were still trying to figure out how to get him to say more than two sentences at a time about anything. It was like your new mission.

He was adamant about doing dishes. He couldn’t stand letting them sit in the sink overnight, so they were always clean first thing in the morning when you came out into the kitchen. He’d shake his head at you before you could even try to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. You wanted to be motivated enough to clean them before you went to bed, but by the time the end of the day rolled around all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and pass out, so that was usually what you ended up doing.

“I’ll do dishes but I draw the line at combining our laundry,” he said as he carried his small hamper of dirty clothes to the basement where the washer and dryer were.

You laughed, calling after him, “Oh darn. How am I supposed to snoop through your stuff, then?” you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you took it out to see who was calling, smiling to yourself when you saw your father’s contact photo on your phone screen, “You’re calling early.”

“You’re awake early,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “Was just calling to check in and see how things are going.”

“I haven’t succeeded in driving him away yet, unfortunately.”

Nestor’s voice came from downstairs, “I can hear you!”

“Good!” you called back with a laugh before returning your attention to your phone call.

Your father sighed, “So things are going well, I see.”

“It’s really not bad at all, Papi. Nestor is alright. It’s just weird living with someone that you don’t know,” you paced the floor of your kitchen, “You know how long he’s gonna have to stay with me?”

“Until I feel that things have been properly handled.”

“You sure Miguel doesn’t need him back?”

“Even if he did, he would never ask me,” you knew your father well enough to know that there was a light smugness to his voice as he said that, “But you’ve been alright? You’re safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” you heard Nestor’s footsteps coming back up the stairs and you turned to face him, a childish smirk on your face, “Nestor is doing a fabulous job protecting me.” You chuckled as he pressed his lips into a thin line and made his way to the guest room without a word.

Your father laughed, knowing that you were giving your protective detail a run for his money, “Don’t be too hard on him, mija.”

You laughed, “No promises. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” he let out a soft chuckle before hanging up the call.

Morning faded into the afternoon and you hadn’t seen Nestor since he disappeared after he brought laundry downstairs. Some moments you wondered if your father’s concern about him being annoyed enough to quit were valid, but you also figured that Nestor was too proud and stubborn to bail. You walked down the hall and knocked on the open door to what you now considered his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoes. You smiled slightly as he looked over at you, eyebrows raised.

“You almost ready to go?” you asked, “Ready for another very boring night sitting at the bar watching me like a creep?”

He stood up and walked over to you, and for a moment you were reminded of the size difference between the two of you. he glanced down at you, making you feel very small as your face instantly got hot, “Ready to watch me watch you? Like an even bigger creep?” You chuckled, mostly to try and relieve the tension that was bubbling up inside your body. He brushed past you and went to grab his keys, “My turn to drive.”

You followed his path and opened your mouth to argue, but you knew it was useless. With a sigh you grabbed your purse and followed him out the door to his SUV. He’d driven you a couple places in it, and you had to admit it had way more room than your car when it came to grocery shopping. You still weren’t ready to accept it as your main mode of transportation, though. You could’ve had your own nice car, and your father would’ve preferred it, but you didn’t like feeling so obvious. And, in the case of Nestor’s car, you hated feeling like you were constantly fighting to not touch anything in his pristine vehicle.

“You really don’t need to stay for my whole shift, Nestor,” you said as the two of you walked in the front door, “I’m sure there are more important things you could spend a couple hours doing and then just come pick me up afterwards.”

He shook his head, opening the door for you, “Can’t do it.”

It was a busier shift—Saturday’s always were. You almost felt bad for Nestor, but at least there were enough people to keep him occupied and have him feeling like he was actually serving a purpose by being there with you. He never said anything, but you knew that things had been so quiet lately and it was probably a big change of pace from whatever he was usually doing for the Galindos. Any time you tried to ask or allude to it, though, he went silent.

You finally had a moment to pause and catch your breath for a second when you saw Nestor waving you over. You leaned over the bar so he wouldn’t have to shout whatever it was that he had to say to you, sporting your best Customer Service Smile so the people around you wouldn’t get clued in on anything.

“Guy over in that booth has been eyeing you for the last fifteen minutes.”

You were about to tell him that there were always creeps leering at you while you were working, but when you saw who he was talking about, your facial expression dropped. You saw Nestor’s whole body tense up and he went to stand, but you put your hands over his to stop him. He turned to you, clearly confused and on-edge.

“He’s not a problem. Just a shitty ex-boyfriend. He’s annoying, but not a security concern. You can sit, it’s fine,” you nodded to him to reassure him before plastering a smile back on your face and getting back to your other patrons.

Nestor didn’t like the fact that the man kept staring at you. And despite the fact that you had explicitly told him that he wasn’t an issue, there was still a very strong urge to get up and physically throw him out of the building. For the sake of your job, though, Nestor kept himself seated, keeping an eye on everyone else while paying special attention to the man in the booth.

You don’t know how you missed him coming in, but you almost wished that Nestor hadn’t said anything. Now you couldn’t help but to feel him staring at you and it was a difficult feeling to ignore. It would have been a total abuse of power to ask Nestor to go over and get in his face, and you knew it, but the option was still tempting nonetheless. You were glad that he was at least keeping to himself.

That luck ran out too, though. You were looking across the expanse of the bar to see if anyone needed anything, and sure enough he was standing at the far end, a smug grin on his face because he knew that you were going to have to come over and talk to him. Jade saw the look on your face and was about to intervene but you politely waved her off, knowing that it wasn’t her drama to deal with.

“What can I get you, Marco?” your voice wasn’t nasty, but it wasn’t laden with the typical sweetness you used on other customers.

“Whatever’s good on tap tonight, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you didn’t look at him as you grabbed a glass and picked a beer out of the tap lineup.

“That your new boyfriend?” he nodded towards Nestor as you handed him the glass.

“And if he is?” this conversation wasn’t going in a good direction, but you were trapped in it regardless.

“I was just wondering, because he’s spent an awful lot of the evening staring at you.”

“Could say the same about you,” you scoffed.

You went to walk away when he reached over the bar and grabbed your arm. His grip wasn’t tight, and you knew that the intention wasn’t to hurt you, just to get your attention, but you still had the overwhelming urge to bust his nose. You ripped your arm from his grip, taking a deep breath as you suppressed the desire to cause a scene.

You almost had no say in the matter, though, as Nestor materialized, placing his hands down hard on Marco’s shoulders, “Everything alright over here?”

Your eyes grew wide, not sure at all how this was going to play out. You could see the fear on Marco’s face, but you also knew that he was too proud and too stupid to back down from a fight, even if it was one he would definitely lose. He shrugged in an attempt to get Nestor’s hands off of his shoulders, “We’re fine.”

Nestor’s eyes zeroed in on you, practically begging you to give him the okay to do some damage, “All good, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Marco spoke up again, “I said we’re fine.”

“I wasn’t fucking asking you,” Nestor’s voice was low but you could tell by the grimace on Marco’s face that he was definitely digging his fingers into his shoulders.

You nodded, “We’re good.”

Nestor released his grip and you could see Marco’s entire body relax. His gaze lingered on you for a moment and you nodded again to let him know that you could handle it. He didn’t say anything else as he made his way back down to where he had originally been sitting at the bar. His eyes never left the two of you though—you could feel his stare even though your back was to him.

“I figured you would’ve gone for a more warm and fuzzy type,” he tried to play it confidently but you could tell that he was shaken up.

You scoffed, “I’d leave while you still can. He decides to come back over again I won’t tell him to let you go.”

The color drained from Marco’s face, but he just couldn’t make himself smart enough to walk away, “Didn’t think you liked pushy guys.”

You braced your hands on your side of the bar and leaned forward slightly, “I don’t like guys who are pushy with me. Now, get the fuck out before you see how pushy he can really be.”

The second threat was enough to get through. He dropped money on the surface of the bar and left, leaving a full glass of beer behind. You chuckled to yourself as you brought the glass down and set it in front of Nestor. The two of you locked eyes for a moment but didn’t say anything about what had happened as you went about the rest of your evening.

You were cleaning up after your shift, once again it was just you, Jade, and Nestor. You and Jade were going back and forth about some of the ridiculous things that you had heard that night as you wiped down counters and tabletops. Nestor scrolled on his phone, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he listened to the two of you.

When there was a lull in the conversation, he looked up and at you, “So, who was your friend that was here tonight?”

“Ah, he got to meet Marco,” Jade chuckled, shaking her head knowingly.

“Marco?” he raised his eyebrows.

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “Yea, Marco. With a capital M for mierda,” you let out a humorless laugh, “We dated a couple years back.”

“Still not over you?”

Jade interjected before you could, “Can you blame him?”

You smiled and shook your head, “I haven’t heard from him in a while. He pops up every now and then to see if he still has a shot. He never does. I turn him down, send him away, and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Too bad you didn’t have a Nestor sooner,” Jade was stacking glasses with a smug grin on her face, “Could’ve gotten rid of him a long time ago.”

“Nestor is not a bouncer for ex-boyfriends,” you laughed.

She laughed and shrugged, “It is a bonus though.”

You shook your head as the two of you finished up closing down the bar. While it was hectic sometimes when it was only the two of you, those were some of your favorite nights. You’d come to think of Jade more as an aunt or a second mother rather than your boss, and you liked the time you got to spend with her.

After getting home and letting Nestor check the house, the two of you took turns showering off the day. You were trying to figure out if Nestor just had multiple of the same sets of sweatpants and lounge shirts, or if he just washed the same set over and over again. You grabbed a fresh pint of ice cream out of the freezer and grabbed one for him too without bothering to ask, knowing that if you gave him the option he would always say no.

You set his down on the coffee table in front of him before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from him, giving him a little space. He looked back and forth between you and the ice cream with a slightly confused expression.

“A thank you for scaring off Marco,” you said with a smile as you scooped out a spoonful of your own.

“It’s my job.”

You raised an eyebrow, “That is not in your job description. He is not a threat to my father’s way of life, or mine for that matter. Now just eat the damn ice cream before I add doesn’t eat dessert to my Nestor Notes.”

He let himself smile as he picked up the pint of ice cream, “Thank you,” he took a spoonful, “And for future reference, my favorite flavor is mint chip.”

Your eyes grew wide,  mostly because he actually offered up a piece of personal information, but also at the fact that that was his favorite flavor, “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with that as their favorite.”

“Now you have,” he nodded before reaching for the controller to turn the TV on.

You chuckled to yourself as you settled back against the couch, pulling your legs up underneath you. You looked over at Nestor, who was slightly hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He had the controller in one hand, scrolling through shows, and his ice cream in the other. For a man who didn’t like music while he was driving in the car, he certainly did seem to see eye-to-eye with you when it came to always having the television on in the house for a light layer of background noise. Most of the time neither of you were paying super close attention to what was on, but it was just nice to break up the silence. In that moment, though, both of you felt extremely present.

“I’m one hundred percent eating this whole thing tonight,” you laughed, “It’s counting as dinner and dessert.”

He chuckled, “Sounds good.”

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow and get real food,” you smiled as you kept your eyes glued to the container in your hands, “I’ll make sure to get you some mint chip.”

He nodded, smiling despite the fact that he wasn’t looking over at you, “I’d appreciate that.”

[misqato]

𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙠𝙚𝙞 || 𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙞 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: You and Tsukki are in a long distance relationship and today is Tsukki’s birthday. Days ago, both of you had planned to spend the day through a video call, but Tsukki gets upset and disappointed when you haven’t sent him a single message throughout the day. Will things get better sooner or later?

Genre: slight angst(?), fluff

Tags: slight angst, fluff, long-distance relationships, sad/lonely tsukki :(, college!tsukki and reader, angst at the start but the ending is okay, i don’t know what to put anymore so yeah that’s it :D

Word Count: 1.7K words

A/N: Hi! I’m sorry if it’s been a while since I’ve released a fic. School is really stressing me out and I can’t find the time to write anymore. I hope you guys enjoy this fic I wrote for Tsukki’s birthday. It’s kind of bad since it’s rushed but I tried my best. Also, I’m currently working on something big so stay tuned! And of course, I have to greet an advanced (i’m posting this the day before his birthday hehe) happy birthday to my love, Tsukishima Kei <3. Again, I hope you guys enjoy this fic! ‘Til next time, Claire <33

Beep, beep, beep, beep

The blaring of the alarm woke Tsukishima to a jolt. He turned off the alarm and rubbed his eyes. The sun was already shining through the blinds of his bedroom. He checked the time and date on his phone. 

September 27, 9:00am. It was his birthday today. 

He sighed, staring at his lockscreen wallpaper. It was a picture of him and you standing outside the Sendai City Gymnasium after one of his games. His arm was wrapped around your waist as you hugged him tightly against you while wearing a big smile. 

He sighed, missing the feeling of your warm embrace. He really wanted to spend the day with you today, but as much as he wished for you to come over and be with him, you couldn’t.

A few months ago, you needed to travel long distance for your studies since you got a scholarship at your dream university. Kei was very happy for you, he really was, but at the same time, he didn’t want you to leave. 

You both knew that this long distance relationship was going to be hard for the both of you. You thought of staying, of course, because you didn’t want to leave Kei behind as well, but he insisted that you follow your dreams and take this once in a lifetime opportunity. He cared about your career of course, and he didn’t want to get in the way of that. So you guys settled that you push through with the scholarship, and as for your relationship, you guys planned to call at least once a day, just to check on each other. Surprisingly, things are going well for the both of you. Even though your schedule was quite hectic, you still managed to find time to call or text. 

He really missed you. He didn’t want to spend his birthday (and any other birthdays) without you, but he just had to deal with it. 

You both had agreed that the plan for today was for the two of you to have a video call for the whole day since you wouldn’t be able to come over. He checked to see if you’ve sent him any messages today, but there was none. Oh well, she must be busy, he thought, setting his phone down to brush his teeth and prepare breakfast. 

The birthday calls and greetings came in at around 9:40. While waiting for your text, he ate breakfast while answering all the birthday greetings that came in. An hour has passed, and yet no text.

A while later, his family called to greet him a happy birthday because they couldn’t come over since they were out visiting his grandparents’ place which was out of town. After which he checked to see if you’ve finally sent him a message. 

Still no message. 

Kei wondered why you haven’t messaged him yet. Both of you would usually have a short chat at this time before his training. He considered messaging first, but he decided to wait a little longer, but the longer he waited, the more impatient he gets. 

It was starting to get lonely for Kei. He turned down all the offers of his friends who wanted to celebrate with him because he only wanted to spend the day with you, even if only in a video call. 

It was already 5:30pm, and still no message.

Kei spent majority of his day sitting around and watching his favorite movies just so he could entertain himself somehow. He kept checking his phone to see if you’ve texted him, and every time he sees that you haven’t, his heart sinks a little. What if she forgot it was my birthday?, he thought. It was a possibility, but with all the birthday posts from his friends, you’d at least be able to see them somehow and remember it was his birthday, right? He felt disappointed and upset. The only reason why he liked birthdays was because he got to spend them with you, and right now, he hates that you couldn’t be around to spend it with him.

When the sun started to set a little, he decided to buy himself dinner. The walk to the restaurant was quite cold. He noticed that a lot of people seem to have birthdays during September. A lot of people were out celebrating with their families and loved ones, and seeing them, Kei honestly felt so lonely. 

He really missed you. All he wanted to do was to see your face and hear your voice. He just wanted to talk to you for hours and hours because he missed being close to you but you couldn’t be there since you’re so far away. 

As he took the takeout bag from the counter, he walked out of the store to head home and eat his dinner there. He didn’t want to eat at the restaurant because of the many loud people celebrating their birthdays there as well, and he didn’t want to feel any more lonely than he already is. And besides, you might call all of a sudden, and it’d be a really bad timing ‘cause the place was very loud and you’d hardly get to hear each other. 

When he reached his doorstep, he noticed the door was unlocked as he was about to insert the key into the keyhole. Was there an intruder?, he thought. He grabbed his phone to be ready to call the cops and started to slowly walk inside. As he stepped in, he noticed a familiar pair of shoes set down in the shoe rack. Y/N? could she be here?, he asked himself with confusion. You couldn’t possibly be here right now, you were so far away and it took hours to get back to this town. Besides, you had school the following day. 

Just as he was about to call out your name, there you were, walking out of the kitchen and now standing right in front of him. “Kei!”, you beamed at him, running towards him to pull him into your embrace. He couldn’t believe his eyes. You were here, right in front of him when he’d least expected you to. 

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

“Of course, you dummy! I wouldn’t be missing your birthday now, wouldn’t I?”, you said as your ruffled his hair. “Oh, yes I almost forgot! The gifts are in the kitchen. Let me get them.”, you said, letting go of the hug and running back to the kitchen. He quickly removed his coat and followed suit. He’d never felt so happy and overwhelmed until now. 

He set his takeout by the counter and had seen that you’ve brought two large brown paper bags with you today. “Alrighty, so here’s the cake. I stopped over by the cake shop to see if there were any left. Luckily, this was the last piece.” you took out a large strawberry shortcake out of one of the paper bags. It was his favorite cake, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought that you remembered. 

Next, you brought out a dinosaur gift wrapped box out of the other paper bag and handed it to him. “Open it!”, you excitedly said.

His heart fluttered at how cute you looked. He took the gift from your hands and carefully unwrapped them, and when he saw what it was, his jaw nearly dropped. It was the set of new headphones he’d been wanting to get for months. They were very pricey and he’s surprised that you’ve bought them for him. 

“Y/N you didn’t really have to buy this. This is very expensive and I wouldn’t want you to waste your money for me-”

“Tsukki, it’s alright. I wanted to get this for you because I know you really wanted them. It’s not a waste of money for me because I know you’ll love it. I haven’t made enough efforts in our relationship and this is my way of making it up to you. And of course, I wanted to make you happy ‘cause it’s your birthday!”, you cut him off. “Well, unless you didn’t like the gift-”

“No! I really love it Y/N. Thank you. You work so hard in your studies and you even manage to find so much time for us. Don’t think that you’re not making enough efforts for us because for all I know, you’re the one who contributes the most to keeping this relationship alive and I know I should be putting more effort in it too, but I’m just so so grateful to have you. I’m not really good with words, but know that I love you so much.”, he says, kissing your forehead. 

“Wow Tsukki, never knew you were this sappy.”, you shove him playfully. 

“Tch. Shut up, idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Whatever.”

You both laugh until moving on to take out the rest of the items. “I also bought some ramen for the both of us, I hope it’s enough, though.”, you said as you brought out two ramen takeouts. “It’s fine, I actually bought some dinner since I thought you wouldn’t be coming over. Also, you should’ve texted me that you were coming over. I would’ve bought some more food then.”, Kei replied.

“Well, I wanted it to be a surprise, of course.”, you said, pulling him into another hug. “Yeah but, I just sort of got worried and sad because you didn’t even send me a good morning text or even any text at all.”, he said. You could hear a slight frustration in his voice. You realized that he must’ve felt lonely earlier today, and then a pang of guilt washed over you. Gosh, how stupid am I to not even send him a good morning text?, you thought to yourself. You hugged him tighter.

“I’m so sorry, Kei. I’m so stupid for not even remembering to at least check on you today. I was so busy trying to prepare for today that I even forgot about messaging you. I’m really sorry, Kei.”

“Ssshhh,” he hushed. “It’s okay, what matters is that you’re here with me now. You’re the biggest blessing I’ve ever had. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday, Kei.”