#sam abrams x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

concreteburialplot · 3 months ago

Text

𝒲𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 🌸 // 02

02 - I Can See You

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Masterlist: Here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word Count: 8.9k | Playlist: Here

Summary: After bumping into the boy who saved you from being locked out of your dorm, he whisks you away on an adventure to a bar you shouldn’t even be allowed in. Drunkenly, Sam invites you to a get together with his brothers. The anxious energy at the gathering has you questioning the invitation’s intent.

Warnings: (unknown) mutual pining, one bed trope technically, hint of forbidden twin?, very soft, sweet sammy, underage drinking, weed, jake being jake, unrealistic college experiences?, feelings of inadequacy, ~new crush anxiety~, 18+ MDNI

A/N; thank you so much to anyone who read part one, it makes me so happy to know it was enjoyed so much 🩷

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does not reflect any members of the band or their real lives/actions/etc. - i hope you like it 🥲💞🌸 smut next chapter promise

Vibes this chapter;

-I Can See You - Taylor Swift - Close To You - Gracie Abrams - Maroon - Taylor Swift - Fallingforyou - The 1975 - So High School - Taylor Swift

The moment consciousness seeped into your body, you jolted upright, your heart racing like a shot of adrenaline straight to your system—a perfect substitute for caffeine. Your eyes scanned the room within a millisecond only to have the throb of a hangover remind you of how you got there in the first place. You immediately looked beside you on the mattress even though you felt no presence there. The bed and the room were empty. The edge of your lips inadvertently downturned at the lack of him. Your eyes landed on the bedside table, finding a note there.

Mornin’ -

Help yourself to some snacks or some green

Hope to see you around, Wallflower ❀

-Sam :)

An embarrassingly wide grin crept across your lips and butterflies began to run rampant in your tummy. If the note itself wasn’t enough, the little flower doodle made your heart soar. You instantly tried to stifle it down, he was just some boy you met at a party. He didn’t make any moves on you and treated you only as a friend. You barely knew each other. You were nothing special to one another - at least that’s what you told yourself.

Once ready to get out of bed, you stripped off the rust-colored shirt you’d borrowed from him the night before, folding it into a neat square on his dresser. You changed back into the stained shirt that his had temporarily replaced just to be clothed enough to walk across the hall to your room.

The notepad that seemed to belong to the note on the bedside table sat next to the boxes of incense on the dresser. You took it upon yourself to write him a note back.

Hey -

Thanks for the shirt and for saving me last night.

See you across the hall! haha

-Wallflower xx

Weeks slipped by without a single sight of him. You thought he must really spend all his time at Danny’s, because despite living on the same floor, you never saw him coming or going. Each day, as you walked down the hallway to or from your room, you’d glance toward his door, just hoping to catch even the briefest glimpse of him. But every time, there was nothing—no sign of him at all. It was as if Sam had vanished into thin air.

The longing gnawed at you, filling you with the prickling rush of a high school infatuation. It was that same eager anticipation you used to feel while lingering around a crush’s locker, waiting for that fleeting moment when your worlds would briefly collide. The anticipation, the nervous energy that hummed through your veins—it left you with a familiar ache of wanting to see him, even just for a second. It felt almost insane to be so desperate to run into someone you’d met only once, but it was maddening how he seemed to occupy every corner of your mind, refusing to be forgotten.

You were beginning to wonder if Sam had just been a figment of your imagination until an hour before closing the on-campus café, when a familiar face walked up to the counter. When you looked up at him, his grin grew wide.

“Wallflower!” He exclaimed.

A peachy tint coated your cheekbones at the fact he remembered the nickname he’d given you. “Hey Sam.” You tried to keep your voice level to not seem overly enthusiastic, but inside there was a flurry of excitement. “I haven’t seen you around much.” You kicked yourself for mentioning it, thinking he may find it creepy that you noticed.

“Ah yeah, I take night classes, so my schedule is all fucked up.” He shrugged.

“Oh, that makes sense.” You said in realization since you mostly took morning classes. It was no wonder you never ran into each other with your schedules flipped.

He ordered an iced chai and watched as you swiftly threw together the ingredients without a second thought. “You really seem like a pro at this.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” After throwing a lid on the cup, you slid it to him.

“Hey, when are you off? I’m thinking of heading to the bar after this, wanna come?” He plucked a straw from the container full of them then smacked one end on the tabletop until it ripped through the other.

“About 30 min-“ Your head tilted a bit. “You’re a freshman, aren’t you? How are you getting into a bar?” You asked skeptically.

A smug smirk tugged at his mouth and shrugged nonchalantly. “I have my ways.”

“Oh, well I don’t have a fake ID or anything like that…” You trailed off suddenly feeling the excitement of seeing him again drain from your body.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said I have my ways, I know people. I can get you in no problem.” He paused. “If you want to, of course.”

“Okay.” You nodded, still not fully convinced but you weren’t going to pass up on an invitation out with him.

Upon arriving at the off-campus bar with Sam, you’re immediately overwhelmed. The bar was tiny, grungy with red neon lights adorning the outside. Posters of music artists, new and old, were plastered all over the walls. It was packed, people bustling and flowing in and out the front door. All Sam did to get you both in was show up. All the staff seemed to know him and didn’t blink an eye when he ordered you both drinks. You chose a lime margarita while he chose a beer.

“Where are your friends?” You asked looking up at him before taking a small sip of your neon green beverage. You wrapped your cardigan around your body as a way to soothe your social overstimulation.

He looked at you a bit funny before outstretching his arms, “Well, look around!”

You giggled and did as he instructed. In a way he was right, just about everyone in the room seemed friendly with him but not necessarily his friends. You nudged his arm with your elbow, “You know what I mean.”

“First of all,” He used his free hand to cover the area you had just gently poked. “Ow! That hurt.” He exclaimed teasingly. “Second of all, did I say I was meeting friends?”

You reflected on the earlier interaction, initially perceiving it as him meeting up with friends and you merely being an afterthought. But as you reconsidered, one phrase stood out in your mind: "I can get you in no problem, if you want to, of course." It replayed over and over, taking on a new significance.

He could clearly see the hoops you were jumping through in your mind, and it brought a grin to his lips. His hand tentatively found your wrist to gently ground you enough to regain your focus back to him. “I asked you to come here with me, not them.” He said simply, like it was as easy as breathing but it hit you in the stomach like a punch.

Blood flooded your cheeks bright red, “Oh,” You didn’t know what to think nonetheless what to say. The last thing you wanted to do was misinterpret what he was implying and make a fool of yourself. “I see.” If it had been any other man, they might’ve taken your curtness as a rejection or grown insecure, but not Sam. He just gave you a smile and said, “Good.” before taking a sip of his beer.

He led you into the back corner of the bar where the pool tables and games were located. “You wanna play some pool? Test out those tricks you learned a couple weeks ago?” He asked but your eyes were elsewhere.

A large grin pulled across your lips with a brightness filling your eyes as they returned to him. “What about darts?”

His eyes flickered with uncertainty before pulling into a smile, “Sure, why not! Loser buys the next round.”

“Deal.” You happily went to gather the existing three darts on the board and brought them over to the boy. You offered them up like a gift in your hands. “Here ya go.”

He put his hand up and shook his head, “No, no ladies first.” He was being polite, but it just seemed like he was unsure of his abilities.

You positioned yourself in front of the dartboard, feeling Sam’s gaze on you as you prepared to throw. The light hum of bar chatter faded to the background as you focused, the dart cool in your hand. Your fingers curled around it just right, and with a smooth motion, you threw. The first dart landed solidly within the outer ring—not perfect, but decent. You turned to glance at Sam, flashing him a playful smile before grabbing the second dart.

As you lined up your next shot, you made sure to take your time. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you, watching your every move. With a small flick of your wrist, the second dart hit closer to the center this time—just barely off the mark from a perfect shot. You gave him a small, satisfied smirk, the competitive spark in your eyes unmistakable.

For the final throw, you felt a playful and buzzed surge of confidence. Turning to Sam with a smirk, you gave him a challenging glance. “Ready to see how it’s really done?” You asked with a teasing lilt in your voice. Then, with another smooth, more controlled, flick of your wrist, you released the dart, watching it land just shy of the bullseye, so close that you could almost feel the victory in the air. You stepped back, letting out a breath of satisfaction. “Your turn,” you said, stepping aside and offering him the darts with a grin. "Good luck."

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, show off,” he sassed, clearly amused but a little more nervous now. He stepped up to the line, eyeing the board with a serious expression that only made you grin wider.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you teased. “Don’t tell me you’re already nervous.”

He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Worried? Nah. Just making sure I don’t embarrass myself too much in front of you.”

Your cheeks felt aflame, the statement could’ve definitely been meant in a friendly way, but it made your heart race. Just the idea that he was conscious about your perception of him was almost enough to make you spiral into what-ifs.

Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders like he was about to face a real challenge. He stepped forward, aiming carefully. The bar's warm lighting cast shadows over his features, giving his usual confident expression a touch of apprehension. He threw the first dart—landing just shy of where your first shot had landed.

"Not bad," you teased, crossing your arms. "Think you can do better?"

His lips twitched, that competitive edge sparking in his eyes. He glanced at you briefly before throwing the second dart, this time hitting dangerously close to where your second shot had been. "There we go," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Guess the pressure's on now, huh?"

Sam smirked, his eyes finding yours as he prepared for the final throw. "Always is when you're around." The words were light, but there was a certain tension beneath them, a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His focus shifted back to the board, and he released the third dart—this one just a hair away from the bullseye.

You let out a mock gasp, stepping closer to him as if to inspect the board. "Well, look at that! Seems like you could actually win."

He leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. "Could?" he echoed, his voice low, teasing. "Sounds like you're doubting me."

Your smile softened, feeling the heat of his presence next to you. "I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, and for a moment, the world outside of this dart game seemed to fade. It was just the two of you, standing close, the air charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. You wondered if it was just the alcohol rushing through you or if it was real, and more than anything, you wondered if he felt it too.

You and Sam continued playing, the competitive energy between you both lighthearted but persistent. With each round, Sam improved slightly, his throws becoming steadier and more consistent. But despite his best efforts, you managed to stay ahead, winning both rounds with just enough of an edge to keep teasing him about it.

By the end of the third round, it was clear that you had the upper hand, your score pulling ahead with each set of darts. Sam finally threw his last dart, which landed just shy of the bullseye, and turned to you with a mock sigh of defeat. “Alright, you’ve officially beaten me three times in a row, I think it’s time to call it.”

You laughed victoriously, the burn of alcohol warming your skin and allowing your real, unbridled self shine through. “Fuck yeah!”

“Damn, beat my ass in pool and darts, gonna beat me in poker too?” He joked. “C’mon I owe you probably the most expensive shot on the menu.” Sam knew he’d lose to you the entire time. Not only because he really sucked at darts but because he just wanted an excuse to buy you a drink without it being an overtly romantic gesture.

While a shot wasn’t necessarily what you wanted, who were you to deny Sam of anything. You were certain that he could convince you to do goddamn anything with those big hazelnut eyes.

One shot of tequila turned into two, two turned into three until you were four shots deep, giggling at the bar with Sam over any and everything. With a new margarita in your hand and fresh beer in his, you both found yourself in the back corner again, this time on a leather couch. Your thighs and hips sat flush with each other, and it was all you could think about. Warmth radiated off of him and seeped burning heat into your side. You were aware of any and all movements beside you and your hazy mind worked hard to decipher them. Sometimes it felt like he was flirting with you and other times he’d act like a friend. This confusion wasn’t made any easier when he dropped his arm around your shoulders.

Little did you know that Sam was feeling the same way, sensing a nervous pit in his stomach as he picked apart every expression and reaction you gave him. He paid extra attention to when he attempted to flirt with you, he noticed that your cheeks would redden but you wouldn’t flirt back. He was just as confused as you.

You both were nervous, confused and excited. As much as Sam wanted to rush it, he wanted it to play out organically to see if you felt the same.

All the alcohol from the night was making you tired so when you leaned into Sam’s touch, it didn’t register that you could be overstepping. Sam froze but wasn’t upset about your sudden affection.

“Sammy.” You hummed against his shoulder, letting the smell of his herbally cologne fill your nostrils. “You smell really good.”

He let out a breathy laugh and wrapped his arm further around you, pulling you closer. “Yeah? You like it?” He asked, looking down at you with a soft smirk.

“Mhm. It’s perfect.” You looked up and giggled as you booped his nose. “Like you.”

If you had been sober, you would’ve been mortified of your own actions but drunk you only noticed how his tan cheeks turned pink. He looked so cute with rosy cheeks.

“Oh,” He laughed down at you. “You must be very drunk.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested sitting up, using Sammy’s thigh for support. He was immediately extremely aware of your hand placement but was trying his best not to think about it too much. “You had the same amount to drink.”

“I never said I wasn’t drunk, silly.” He stated proudly, “Just that you,” He booped your nose back. “Are definitely, very drunk.”

You pouted at him before letting your defenses fall, giving way to your fatigue. “Sammy, I’m sleepy.” You informed with a bit of a slur. “Bed. Must get to bed.”

Before he could respond, you were up and marching for the door - you had a mission and you were going to accomplish it. Sam gathered your cardigan and purse for you and hurriedly followed you out of the bar. “Hey, wait up!”

Once Sam caught up to you, the two of you stumbled through the night like only tipsy college students could, winding your way through the streets back to your dorms. You trekked through the quiet streets, making your way home with a mix of laughter and slurred songs. You sang whatever pop song was dominating the radio, your voice loud and uninhibited. Despite Sam's earlier claims of hating mainstream pop, he somehow knew every word. You both belted out the chorus together, the melody echoing in the still night air.

You skipped ahead, dancing and twirling under the streetlights, your carefree energy infectious. Sam, though a little more reserved, couldn't help but smile as he watched you. He wasn’t necessarily a reserved creature normally but even wasted he was nervous to make a fool out of himself in front of you. Sam mostly watched with a fond smile, occasionally giving in to your playful antics and joining in��whether it was a spontaneous spin or a goofy dance move—he couldn’t help it, you were addictive to him. Not so much like a drug, but more like a new favorite latte to be craved every morning. He didn’t mind getting lost in you; he was happy just being there with you, letting himself be swept up in whatever fun you dragged him into.

Once you reached your dorm room door you fell to your knees dramatically, “Nooooo!” You shook your fists at the sky over another sock on your door.

He giggled at your theatrics, “Does she do this often?”

“AUGH.” You groaned and fell flat on your back. “Only every other fucking day.” You exhaled and blinked at the dust-coated ceiling.

He held out a hand to help you up, which normally would take no effort, but your exaggerated movements were obstructing the ease. “C’mon let's get you into a bed.”

Once on your feet again, his hands found your hips to push you forward and it sent a chill down your spine and a heat between your legs. Even in your heavily intoxicated state, you were extremely aware of just how large his hands were and how they enveloped your hipbones completely. The way he guided you to his room reminded you of that first night with him, though you were much less drunk then. When inside, the now familiar scent of marijuana and patchouli filled your nose, and the dim lighting comforted you.

“I don’t even wanna know what you’ve been doing all these nights while you’re locked out of your room but,” He opened the top drawer to his desk, grabbing something that hung by a little white disc. “You can always just come here, since I’m gone most of the time anyway.” He shrugged, holding it by the disc in front of you between two fingers.

“Oh, I absolutely can NOT take that.” You pushed his hand back towards his body.

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and reached towards your pants, gently pulling your pocket open and dropping the key in. “Don’t use it if you don't want to but,” He paused, taking a moment to look at you. “I want you to have a safe space to go to.”

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that you feared that your ribs might crack. His chocolatey brown eyes were so soft and genuine, and most of all concerned. The idea of Sam not only trusting you enough to give you his key but doing so because of his concern for you, made you want to melt into the floor. Which is exactly what you did.

Your knees buckled and you fell onto the ground once again in dramatics. You sprawled out flat on the carpet with your eyes locked on the geometric tapestry hanging from the ceiling. He chuckled and towered over you with his hands propped on his hips, “You done now?”

You blinked up at him. “Why would you do that?” You whined more of a statement than a question.

“Do what? Give you the key?”

“Make me like you.” The words danced out of your mouth effortlessly, so much so that your drunken brain didn’t even register what you said.

The smile that pulled across his lips was so glorious, so beautiful - it reminded you of morning sunlight shining down on fresh, dewy grass. Sober you would definitely be filling your brain with 68 different ways he was too good and far too gorgeous for you – but right now, you just admired him and his presence. He reached over to grab his pipe and a lighter before sitting down criss-cross next to you on the floor.

“You like me?” He asked with a soft smirk as he brought the pipe up to his lips and lit the lighter to spark over the herb. As the green burned, he inhaled a deep hit, held it, and exhaled a smokey cloud above you.

You turned your head to him with a smile wide enough to hurt your cheeks and nodded. “Sure. Maybe.”

He kept his grin like he was satisfied with your answer. The anxiety he felt before melted away just a bit. His own heart was full from your slight confession but still aware that you were heavily intoxicated. The admission filled him with both hope and apprehension. He offered the glass pipe over to you, “Want some?”

You waved it away, “No, no. If I get crossfaded, I’ll throw up.” To which he quickly retracted his arms and his offer.

“Please don’t puke on my floor.” He teased before setting the pipe back on his nightstand.

After a bit of silence, he cleared his throat, “So, um,” He sounded nervous to continue his inquiry. “My brothers and I are having a movie-day-get-together thing this Friday, would you wanna come?”

You tilted your head at him, your stomach dropping a bit in anxiety at the idea of being in a room full of people he knows, not just his friends, but his brothers. Nonetheless, a soft smile spread across your lips, “Sure, Sammy.”

He let out an involuntary giggle, he loved the way his name sounded in your voice, “Cool.” Abruptly, he pushed himself off the ground and held a hand down to you. “C’mon, you said you wanted a bed, remember.”

“Mmmmmm yeah but the floor is comfy too.” In your drunken state, it felt like heaven.

“Don’t make me pick you up, because I will.” He warned with a pointed finger, to which you just stuck your tongue out to like a defiant child.

“Fine, hard way I guess.” He shrugged before leaning down and scooping you up into his arms with one beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck for stability. Time seemed to slow as you watched him focus on getting you into bed - he was breathtaking, glowing even. You weren’t sure why he was radiating but you bathed in the sun rays he beamed. His wavy brunette hair framed his face perfectly, cupping his jawline with a small curl inward. All of his angles were sharp which contrasted tastefully with his plump lips and soft eyes. If there was a blueprint to what a man should look like, it was definitely him. You weren’t religious but you were convinced that some god up there must’ve crafted him perfectly, sculpted him into the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

You were falling in love, and you didn’t even know it yet.

“Sammy.” You mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his arm as he set you down. “Don’t leave. Sleep.”

He chuckled, crawling into bed behind you. “Wasn’t planning on it, Wallflower.” He whispered gently, turning his body towards you.

He muttered something along the lines of ‘oh shit the light’ before reaching over you carefully to click the lamp off. As he settled back into his original spot, he accidentally ended up closer to you. Before he could move away, your sleepy body instinctively grabbed his arm, pulling it around your waist. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy but your warmth was too inviting to resist. He quickly melted into the spooning position, holding you close as sleep began to overtake you.

Sam stayed awake a little longer, savoring the warmth and closeness. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed this—being able to hold someone, feeling a comforting connection. It had been a long time since he’d had a girlfriend, and while he often saw his brothers and shared platonic affection with friends, it wasn’t the same. Cuddling had always been the part of relationships he cherished most, even more than sex. As he snuggled into you, and you unconsciously pressed back against him, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a while. Whether it was just a drunken gesture or something more, it didn’t matter right now. It simply felt good to hold someone again.

Your sleep riddled eyes slotted open slowly to warm light seeping in and gentle music playing. When your eyes finally adjusted to the light, you saw Sam lighting incense and dancing a bit to music you didn’t recognize.

“Morning.” You said gently as not to startle him, which proved useless since he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He placed a hand on his heart, “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” He then readjusted to lean against his dresser in a ‘cool’ way, “You didn’t uh, see anything did ya?”

You giggled, bringing the duvet over a yawn. “You mean like you dancing? Nooo didn’t see any of that.” You replied teasingly.

“Whatever, forget what you saw.” He waved you off and went back to trying to get the incense lit after being interrupted. The lighter flicked a couple times before finally igniting and catching the tip of the scented stick.

“Already forgotten.” You smiled into another yawn and stretched, pulling the muscles in your shoulders and arms.

You suddenly got a rush of ‘I need to go home’ when you realized you were still in last night’s clothes but relaxed the second you realized that your room was just down the hall.

“You hungry? I ordered some food that should be here soon.” He grinned, hesitantly. “I didn’t really know what you liked or if you’d be awake so I just kinda ordered a bunch of stuff.” He laughed bashfully. “I was also a little high when I placed the order so…”

You chuckled at him, “Yeah sure, I could use something to soak up all this alcohol.”

Soon after there was a knock at the door with the food. You watched Sam greet the deliveryman who he already seemed to know, and tipped him a $20, which you thought was extremely generous until you realized just how much food he ordered.

He turned to you with an expression that embodied both shock and embarrassment. “Okay so maybe I was really high when I ordered.”

You both laughed as he set down four bags of food for the both of you. While it was true that he had been quite high when he ordered, he also hoped that he’d pick something from the menu that would entice you to stay a bit longer.

He plopped down on the floor in front of all the food, starting to separate all of the transparent containers. You soon met him on the floor on the other side of the mountain of food. “What is all this stuff?” You questioned, not recognizing the green branding.

“It’s my favorite little bistro, Rose & Lentil! You’ve never been?” He pulled out what looked like a smoothie bowl, something pudding-like, a mixed salad and some grainy pancakes. You never expected a boy like him to be eating anything other than junk.

“No, I’ve never been, but it looks yummy.” You half lied. “What’re you gonna eat?”

“Hmm, I was thinking either the açaí bowl or the chia seed pudding. But if you want either of those, by all means.” He kept hands off all of it until you chose.

“I was actually gonna ask for the pancakes so that’s perfect!” You hungrily reached over to grab the container and brought it to you.

Sam opted for the açaí bowl, informing you that it was actually his favorite breakfast food, aside from regular pancakes. The ones he’d ordered were whole grain pancakes, but they ended up being delicious regardless - that or you were just starving.

Breakfast was full of jokes about the previous night’s events, with both of you laughing over the silly moments and playful mishaps. As you sat across from him, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each joke and shared memory bringing another burst of laughter. Everything felt so easy and natural with him, like slipping into a comfortable routine. But even amid the lighthearted banter, there was a small, persistent flutter of anxiety in your stomach. It was a twist of nerves that you couldn’t quite shake, a subtle hint of the deeper feelings lurking beneath the surface.

As you watched him move around some blueberries at the bottom of his clear container, you were suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude. You were thankful that this stranger attended that frat party weeks ago and that he spotted you. You were so grateful for his kindness; you didn’t know what you would’ve done these nights being kicked out of your dorm. But mostly, you were thankful for his friendship. Katie was a decent friend and roommate, but she was absent most of the time and you hadn’t made any other friends. If it didn’t sound so lame you would’ve thanked him verbally for spending time with you. Being away from home was lonely and it was nice to spend some time with a friend. You weren’t sure if this little flutter in your heart would actually lead anywhere but if anything was for certain it was that you’d find any way to make sure he stayed in your life, even if it was just platonic. No matter how much the idea of platonic hurt to think about.

After breakfast you said your goodbyes and slipped out of his room and back into your own, quietly, in case Katie was sleeping or still had company. Thankfully, the room was empty, and you could decompress in solitude. You pressed yourself against the back of your door and took a deep breath. All Sam did was be kind to you, and you were already smitten with him. How could you not be? With beauty like his you were surprised he didn’t have a jealous girlfriend kicking you out of his room. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back replaying the night. Suddenly, a vague memory arose, of him wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Heat filled your cheeks and the tips of your fingers at the thought, and you wondered if you had just imagined it. Regardless, you now felt the absence of him around you, and it was a feeling you didn’t like.

But you stuffed down the sensation as much as you could, he probably was taken or uninterested in you in that way. With how pretty he was there was no way that he’d be interested in someone as mediocre as you thought yourself to be. He probably dated the most beautiful girls on campus, and you believed you definitely weren’t one.

A week later, you arrived at the address Sam had given you and craned your neck up to the skyscraper-esque building. Sam had called this an apartment building, but it was definitely a condominium. You didn’t even know there were condos on the outskirts of campus, but you went to a prestigious university so, it would make sense the rich kids lived here. Which surprised you because you never even suspected Sam to be a “rich kid”, he was just, Sam.

After a long elevator ride, you reached the 7th floor and stood in front of a white door adorned with a gold number paired with a letter, 7C. You shift back and forth on your heels and grip the straps of the tote bag hanging on your shoulder. After exhaling a deep breath, you mustered the courage to knock your knuckles against the door.

You’d briefly met all of his friends already except for the brother that owned the condo, but you hadn’t met them yet. Not sober anyway.

The door suddenly swung open only to reveal a boy with shaggy brown hair and a giant, toothy smile on his face.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed excitedly and you wondered how he knew it was you even though you’d never met before. The boy just a bit taller than you wrapped you in a big hug. Your brows furrowed a bit at the gesture, seeing as again, you’d never met before.

You chuckled nervously, “Josh? Right?”

“The one and only!” The grin never leaving his face. “Welcome, welcome!” He announced, spreading his arms wide. “Make yourself at home, grab a drink, enjoy yourself!” It was then that you realized he’d been holding a beer the whole time. “Oh, and please take your shoes off at the door, thank you!”

“Thank-“ You began but he had fluttered away before you had a chance to finish.

You could hear the bustle of the other boys in another room which is where you assumed Josh had run off to. You took in the condo as you were left alone. It was spacious with an open floor plan. Floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room with dim light from the cloudy day. Everything was white with abstract art decorating any sparse areas.

Josh must’ve promptly informed Sam of your arrival because he appeared quickly after his departure.

“Hey Y/N,” He smiled softly, and you took note of his reserved cadence and the fact he didn’t greet you with your nickname. He wrapped you into a half hug, which after Josh’s bear hug seemed small. You felt crazy for noticing the tiny differences in behavior when they probably meant nothing.

“Hey Sam.” You smiled shyly and gave him a small wave. The interaction seemed so… new, and stale, when you’d been hanging for a bit and even at the beginning, he hadn’t been like that. It settled a storm of nerves in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly every interaction you'd had with him was replaying in your head, wondering if something went wrong.

“Do you want a drink or something?” He asked, leading you into the spacious modern-styled kitchen. Once in front of a rather large silver fridge he opened the french doors to reveal a plethora of alcohol, taking up most of the appliance.

“Oh, um,” In the corner you spotted one row of water bottles. “Could I have a water please?” You figured that alcohol may not be the best idea when feeling as nervous as you did.

He smiled, “Of course.” His hand plucked a bottle and handed it to you before grabbing a beer of his own.

“Hey, Sam!” Called a voice you recognized as Jake’s calling from the other room. “Come help fix this shit with this TV.”

He rolled his eyes but placed a tender hand on your shoulder, “Excuse me.” He said in a tone insinuating that he’d rather do anything else than go help them.

Shortly after Sam left, you soon felt another presence enter the kitchen. “Well, well, well. Nice to see you again.” Welcomed Jake adorned with a faux British accent and a half drank amber beverage.

“Hi- uh,” You pointed over your shoulder. “Didn’t you just call him over for help?”

Jake smirked and gestured over in the general direction. “Yeah, that’s what he’s doing. Helping.” He took a sip of his drink, his chocolate browns eyeing you over the brims of the short glass. He looked even better in the daylight, in a patterned button down, unbuttoned til the very last few buttons before being sucked into his jeans. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and fluffy. His face was sterner than Sam’s but not as angular or sharp.

“Oh.” You replied shortly, feeling naive and a bit cornered.

“Oh love, you can’t be only drinkin’ water.” He stayed in the British accent except it was sounding a bit Irish. “Let me make you something.” He began taking bottles off the counters and pulled a stemless martini glass from a cabinet.

“No, no.” You tried to stop him using your hands to wave away his actions. “I’m okay really.”

“Nonsense. I’ll make it light.” His gravelly voice returning to his American dialect. Though, what he was making looked far from light and the churning anxiety in your stomach only worsened.

He poured in some vodka into a shaker and took the opportunity to glance up at you while the liquid poured. “So, Sammy wooed you huh?” The corner of his lips curling into a smirk.

“I-I,” You began but fell short, not really knowing the answer. It was true but Sam didn’t even know how you felt, you couldn’t let Jake know first.

“I see.” He nodded, adding cranberry juice to the metal container. “Either you haven’t told him or he’s not doing a very good job at wooing you.”

A bright red blush bloomed to your cheeks at his words, seemingly stunned silent, lost in your own jumbled thoughts.

He paused with his brows lowering then raising, “Or both.” Before the smirk returned again. “What a shame.”

“What is?” You asked innocently.

Some other juices and ingredients you didn’t recognize were added to the shaker before he snapped the lid on it. “You’re easily the most beautiful girl he’s ever brought around.” He said effortlessly, no hesitation behind the words - unlike with Sam, who had you questioning your entire purpose there. “It’d be a shame for him to fumble the opportunity to win you over.” He brought the shaker over his shoulder and shook it with one hand, ice clashing into metal filling the silence in the room.

“Oh, no.” The blush on your cheeks had dulled to dusty rose and your eyes fell to your water bottle as you played with the label. “I don’t think it’s anything like that.” When the words left your mouth, they felt like lies. It had to be something right? There’s no way you were just imagining everything. You shrugged. “Or maybe? I don’t know.”

He poured the martini glass full of a cloudy pink liquid and handed it to you garnished with mint. “You’re far too stunning to be that confused about someone’s feelings for you.”

You took the glass delicately to not disturb the beautiful presentation. “Thank you.” You replied quietly to both the drink and the compliment.

Jake’s eyes darted to the left catching Sam making his way back. The smirk returned to his lips before leaning over to reach your ear. “If you’re not impressed by him, let me know. I can do anything he can’t.” His hand lightly gripped your arm before parting from you to walk past Sam in the opposite direction.

Your eyes widened unsure how to take his claim, but a buzz fell into your hips nonetheless. What could he possibly show you that Sam couldn’t? But more importantly, was there truth behind his words, should you not be blindly crushing on Sam without knowing his feelings? While Jake wasn’t the one you wanted, he sure had a way of making everything so simple.

You were startled out of your thoughts when Sam finally reached your side. “C’mon, they’re about to start the movie.” He said quietly then placed his hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the living room.

The feeling of his touch on you made your heart swell but only further confused you about his behavior. Even after his hand left you, it still tingled where it had been. He plopped down in the middle of the couch and patted the cushion beside him, inviting you to sit next to him.

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your recently glossed lips and took the seat next to him.

It didn’t take long for all the boys to gather around the tv, some on the couch and some on the floor. They put on some indie movie that you could barely keep up with, not because it was necessarily over your head, but because of Sam’s proximity to you. Your knees were barely touching and there’s just a hair of space between our stationary pinkies on the cushion, just begging to cross over each other. Your heart stayed high the entire time, but you try to hide your chest rising and falling rapidly. You wonder if Sam or anyone else around them could tell or if Sam felt the same way.

Jake sat on the other side of Sam, and you were grateful for it because the idea of being sat between them made your head spin. It was bad enough you’d already caught him stealing looks at you every now and then, but you paid no attention to him, not wanting to fuel whatever fire he was trying to start. It was bad enough that his words were ringing in the back of your head and your curiosity running rampant.

You and Sam’s pinkies were still barely touching, and the contact remained light yet electric throughout the entire movie. The sensation of his skin brushing against yours was enough to keep your heart racing and your skin tingling with goosebumps. The quickened pulse and fluttering nerves never eased during the film’s two hours and seventeen minutes, despite the lively chatter and laughter of the group around you. Each time you shifted, or the couch creaked, the brief, tantalizing contact was a constant reminder of his closeness, amplifying your giddy nervousness. Every slight movement or accidental brush seemed to heighten the tension, making it almost impossible to focus on anything other than the shared, electrifying proximity between you. The soft, shared touch was like a delicate thread binding you together, making every casual brush of his hand feel intensely significant.

As the movie ended, the group burst into animated discussion, gesturing enthusiastically about their favorite parts. You were more than content to fade into the background, relieved not to be thrust into the conversation since you had barely paid attention and couldn't have contributed meaningfully. As the chatter continued and the group began to scatter—grabbing their belongings or placing glasses in the sink—You rose from your seat, stretching your arms above your head to loosen the muscles that had been dormant for the past two hours. Then, you navigated around the couch, stepping out of Jake's way as he made his way toward the living room exit.

You ended up leaning forward against the backside of the couch, pressing your palms into the headrests for support. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of Sam’s head resting on your shoulder from behind. It was a simple, unassuming gesture, but it sent your heart racing, making it feel as if it were leaping into your throat. The thudding pulse in your ears seemed to drown out everything else, and every hair on your body seemed to stand on end.

Sam's hands were tucked behind him as he bent slightly to rest against you. “Did ya like the movie?” He asked casually, completely unaware of the mini panic attack his closeness was causing.

“I—” You stuttered, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. He chuckled softly, sensing your unease.

“You didn’t like it, did you?” He guessed with a knowing smile.

The blush deepened on your cheeks as he pulled away, giving you a moment to regain your composure. You turned to face him, trying to steady your breath. “I did,” you said, not entirely untrue, since you had been too distracted to focus on the film.

Sam’s face softened into an endearing, embarrassed grin, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Ah, I told the guys we should’ve picked a more interesting movie.” It was adorable, the way he was nervous about you enjoying the piece of media, nervous about impressing you.

You noticed then that it was just the four of them, no extra partners or friends. This was really about him introducing you to his tight-knit circle. He was more reserved with them compared to his larger-than-life charisma he normally exuded in other social situations. Being the little brother of two other grandiose personalities, it made sense that he’d sometimes get outshined. You wondered if this was the normal dynamic with them or if they were on good behavior because of your presence.

Without thinking, you reached out and found his wrist, giving it a little squeeze. “I liked it. I think I’m just tired.”

His regular joyful smile and the sparkle in his espresso eyes returned, “Oh, I’m glad. I was scared it would bore you.”

You shook your head with a reassuring grin, “No, I think I just need some coffee.”

“Hey, Y/N!” A voice called from the kitchen and when you leaned over to follow it, you found Jake with a cigar perched in his lips while he lit the end. “You should join us at the arcade tomorrow night.”

Your eyes flickered up to Sam, who looked like Jake just asked a question he had been hyping himself up to ask. “Sure.” You smiled up at Sam before moving back to Jake. “I’d love to.”

“Cool.” Sam nodded, trying to act nonchalant about it all but the truth was that he was ecstatic.

The more he got to know you, the more he became something he rarely was - shy. Fidgety and nervous were never part of Sam’s repertoire, he was always his most authentic self, never caring who thought what of him. Until you. Especially since you weren’t seeming to pick up on any of his hints. True to your nickname, he thought of you like a flower, something delicate. Delicate for Sam was dancing around all of the obvious signs instead of blurting out his feelings. He didn’t want to scare you away with overstepping or misread signals. You were slowly becoming his new favorite person, and he didn’t want to rush or lose that because of his own impatience.

After saying goodbye to the boys and thanking Josh for his stellar hospitality, you and Sam wandered over to an on-campus café for some much-needed coffee before Sam’s evening class started. The atmosphere was cozy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It felt like the perfect way to wind down after the busy day.

The view from the amply large windows gave you a perfect view of the setting sun, casting pink and gold through the glass and onto the tan boy. You couldn’t get over just how beautiful he was, you wondered if he knew that about himself.

“Thanks for drivin’ me back to campus,” Sam said as he brought his cup to his lips. You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift to his mouth, watching as his pink lips touched the plastic lid. You felt a strange pang of envy toward that cup, wishing you were the one he was drawing closer to.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you replied, quickly blinking away your stare and taking a sip of your hot coffee to distract yourself.

He set his cup down and cleared his throat, his gaze locking onto yours with a spark of mischief. “So,” he began, drawing out the moment with unnecessary suspense, “I have a very important question.”

Your eyes widened as you mirrored him, placing your cup down too. “Oh god, what?”

Sam paused for effect, leaning in ever so slightly before finally asking, “What is… your major?”

You let out a relieved laugh, placing an open palm on your chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Sam chuckled, flashing you that easy grin of his. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Um, honestly, I’m kind of undecided,” you admitted with a shrug. “I came in as an English major, but now I’m not so sure. You?”

“Ah, I’ve got no major,” he said casually, taking another sip of his coffee. “Why choose? I want a little bit of everything, ya know?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I believe they call that Liberal Arts.”

“Damn,” he sighed dramatically, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “And here I thought I was being revolutionary.”

If you didn’t have a massive crush on him, you might’ve teased him more, maybe something like, "Yeah, a lot of men seem to think they’re revolutionary," But you bit your tongue, opting for something lighter instead.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to think outside of a bigger box, Sammy,” you teased, tipping your cup toward him with a grin.

“I guess you’re right, Wallflower,” he shot back smoothly, making your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t your name but god did you love the way he said it. You felt the familiar warmth creeping up your neck, threatening to color your cheeks red, so you quickly changed the subject.

“So, your brothers just go to arcades regularly?” you asked innocently, trying to steady yourself.

He laughed, setting his cup back down. “Not just any arcade. It’s The Arcade. It’s this bar-arcade place, kind of like a smaller, off-brand Dave & Buster’s.”

Your lips formed an understanding "O." “My bad.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Sam continued, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I think you’ll really like it.”

You smiled, enjoying his enthusiasm, but something had been gnawing at you for a while now, so you leaned in with a half-serious grin. “Hey, so how do you get into all these places anyway? Just how many people do you know?”

Sam laughed easily. “Honestly, just one—my dad.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “He’s the Dean.”

You almost spat out your coffee. “Your dad is the Dean? Of our school?”

“Yep,” he said with a grin. “And, well, I guess I know three people if you count Jake and Josh. They set some traditions before I started. Most of the bars let me in because of them.”

You blinked, processing the information. “So, your dad just lets you guys drink and party wherever you want?”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Kinda. He wants us to have the full ‘college experience.’ As long as we keep our grades up and don’t screw up too badly, he pretty much lets us do whatever. It also helps that no one really wants to say no to us because, you know, Dean’s kids and all. Not that we’d ever get anyone kicked out or anything, but they don’t need to know that.”

You laughed, leaning forward on your elbows with a teasing glint in your eye. “So basically, don’t piss you off?”

Sam grinned, his expression softening as he leaned in slightly. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to piss me off.”

As you finished your coffee, the conversation drifted into lighter topics, the laughter between you and Sam making the café feel even cozier. But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the café windows, the thought of your upcoming weekend plans lingered in the back of your mind. The idea of spending more time with Sam at The Arcade filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and excitement—a little nerve-wracking but thrilling all the same.

“Ah shit.” Sam quickly shifted his watch into view. “I gotta get out of here before I’m late - again.”

The anticipation was sweet, a pleasant undercurrent as you both stood up to leave. You didn’t know it, but he was feeling just as anxious and excited as you.

Sam flashed you a grin that made your heart flutter. “So, Saturday then? I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect,” you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. It felt like the weekend couldn’t come fast enough

As you said your goodbyes and parted ways, a smile lingered on your lips, the thought of seeing him again sending butterflies swirling through your chest.

You found yourself looking forward to it more than you expected, not just because it sounded fun, but because it was with him. You couldn’t help but smile at the idea of what the weekend might bring—laughing over games, the buzz of the arcade lights, and maybe even an excuse to let your guard down a little more around him.

The thought of the upcoming date left you both excited and a little bit anxious. It felt different, but you couldn’t tell how. But mostly, you couldn’t wait to see where the night would take you—after all, being with Sam always promised an adventure.

Next Chapter -> 03 - Deflowering*

Taglist; @sacredthefran @deathblacksmoke @measuredingold @persuasivus @broken0mens @peaceloveunitygvf @shutupdevvie [comment or send an ask to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; Thank you SO much for reading! Let me know what you think<3

#concreteburialplot works #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #sam kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fluff #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sam kiszka x y/n

47 notes · View notes

cosmiclove-heavenstruck · 1 year ago

Text

#polls #music #noah kahan #stick season #stick season (we’ll all be here forever)#maisie peters #boygenius #ed sheeran #olivia rodrigo #holly humberstone #dermot kennedy #sam fender

63 notes · View notes

sonnetsoncanvas · 2 years ago

Text

Mess it up : pt 3

Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isn’t sure he can

Part of the Mess it up series

Pairing: brother’s best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steve’s sister) (dual pov)

Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?

Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams

Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!

Chapter 3: I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in

Reader POV

Life was not fair. Never was to you. But that never seemed to faze you. if anything, that made you more resilient. Unafraid. Unbothered. Living in that small, noisy Brooklyn apartment, with a mother who worked herself to death trying to provide her children with a good life, a brother, the literal personification of sunshine, being picked on and bullied, tending to his bruises when he thought nobody’s looking.

It made you realise that the world is a dangerous place. It eats up those who stand unprepared. And so, you steeled yourself. Made yourself the most fearsome creature to behold in any room you entered. Your biting wit, your sass, you sharp intellect made you attractive to some, unappealing to many and untouchable to all.

There was only one who dared to play with the fireball that was Y/N Rogers. Only one for whom your guards went down. After all, if Steve trusted Bucky with his life, you could trust him with your heart. Right?

Turns out you couldn’t.

“This was supposed to be a temporary thing” he’d said.

“Do you really think I’m gonna take you home to my mother ? tell her you are what I want the Barnes legacy to continue with?” he’d sneered.

“Its time you go back to your dreams, and let me get on with mine.” He’d offered.

You never should have.

Bucky POV

Life was hilarious. Or at least it started seeming that way after years of neglect. He had everything a child could’ve wanted. All the toys in the world, the most expensive apparel, all the amenities a person could dream of. But the one thing he lacked was love. Pure genuine love.

His mother, The Winnifred Barnes of the upper east side, knew how to give birth to heirs, but did not have a clue about raising a child. Growing up in that negligent household, amongst people who were nefarious for being social climbers and gold diggers, little James soon realized that the only worth he has comes attached to his name. that no one would care for him if it weren’t for his billions.

But he was proved wrong when he met a lanky blond boy of Brooklyn at the music camp. It was there he shed the expensive cloak of James Buchanan Barnes and donned the dirty sneakers of Bucky. It was through Steve he recognised his own significance, that he could be something more than the well-groomed showpiece his family was expecting him to be.

And then he met you.

And it felt as if all his prayers had been answered.

You weren’t like Steve, not one bit. You were this fiery, self-assured human who could scorch the world with her brilliance. Unlike Steve, you were pragmatic. Unlike Bucky, you knew who you were and where you wanted to be.

And he fell for you. hard.

He borrowed some of your bravery, some of your light, and formed the Avengers with Steve, Sam and Wanda. He wanted to make something of himself to deserve you. to earn the jackpot that was your love.

However, for bucky, it seems happiness is always a temporary tryst. He tends to forget that.

Skiing was his passion. One of the many trappings of his privileged life that actually he enjoyed. It was the same passion that completely changed Bucky’s life. But unlike you, for the worse.

It was his own fault. No one else to be blamed. Had he heeded the weather warning, he wouldn’t be on that slope. he wouldn’t have been caught in that blizzard. He wouldn’t have lost his left arm.

When he regained his consciousness, the first face he saw was yours, streaked with tears, anguish in eyes.

You came there every day, sometimes under the pretence of dropping something for Steve, who refused to leave him alone, sometimes to fill in for his absence. The better bucky got, the more hopeful your eyes grew.

You’d altered everything to fit Bucky’s schedule. You worked late nights so that you could visit him in evenings after school, stopped going out with your friends to be with him instead. There were times you pulled an all nighter just so you could turn in your assignments on time.

He saw it all. The dark circles beneath your eyes, your tired face, the endless cups of coffee. It should’ve pained him, but the thought that you were there, to love him, to hold him, brought endless solace. and so he selfishly held on to you.

Until one day, Steve told him about your college acceptance letters.

“She got into Harvard Bucky! My baby girl in Harvard. Just think about that.” A hint of pride glimmered under his annoyance, “But she refuses to go. Says she cant leave Ma and I alone.”

“what ?!” Bucky had asked, guilt gnawing at him

“I mean Columbia is a decent school, but Harvard law?! It doesn’t get better than that. How far is Boston anyway?...”

Steve’s voice blended into the voices in Bucky’s brain. He knew the real reason behind your hesitation to go to Harvard was him. He remembered how excited you were when your adviser had confidently proclaimed that she is Harvard material.

And you were willing to let that go. For him.

Instead of joy, Bucky felt trepidation. Fear. Was this love? Or pity? Is this how the rest of your lives will be? You leaving things you love for his sake? And how long before you resent him? Hate him for all the opportunities you’d let go of for him?

How could he ever live with himself, knowing he was the anchor that was holding you back?

Bucky had resigned himself to live his life with his situation, but you didn’t have to. You , perfect in every way, intelligent, so beautiful that his heart ached.you should be with some one who deserved you. not him. Never him.

And so James Buchanan Barnes did something that was somehow more painful than ripping his heart out.

He let you go.

Reader POV

you woke up with a heavy head. It felt a lot like jet lag, except that it wasn’t. one did not get headaches by travelling from Boston to New York. One did, however get headaches after crying all night. Which was what you did last night.

It was embarrassing. Pathetic even. You thought you were over him, and all that it took was one glimpse of his to mess you up. You had a Suma cum laude from the most prestigious law schools in the world, scored job offers from the most esteemed firms, made grown men cower in front of in courtrooms, and yet, were drowning in a puddle of tears over a high school boyfriend.

To be fair though, your only boyfriend. After he dumped you, you swore off men, while he went on an array of affairs with so many women you lost count of it. The tabloids had always had a sweet spot for him. “The heartbreak prince” indeed. Its only that the prince did the heart breaking, not the other way round.

You ambled out of the bed and cleaned up. It was hours before your usual time, but well, its not as if you’re getting any sleep now, is it? Its better to get some coffee for your pounding head. Your interview was tomorrow thank heavens. There was no way you could’ve done it today.

A clattering of utensils startled you. there’s no way Steve was up this early. Your confusion was immediately clarified as you came across the very bane of your existence hunched in the kitchen.

You tried to turn back and leave as noiselessly as you could. You cannot endure this so early in the morning. You’d rather go out to get coffee, there must be some place open at the ungodly hour. Its New York after all.

He turned that very instant, as if he could sense you. his beautiful blue eyes widened as he took you in, as dishevelled and disoriented as you were. After a long minute he shifted his gaze from your face, looking everywhere but in your direction.

You were beginning to suspect that God was punishing you for all your years of antagonism.

“I was about to leave.”

His voice, his goddamn voice. Your heart had always been ready to race out of your chest and beat to the rhythm of his speech. It was ready to do that now.

Had human beings been able to survive without a heart, you would’ve had yours surgically removed ages ago. Stupid, bloody organ always getting you in trouble.

a wave of guilt hit you as he started for the exit. He had done the same yesterday, leaving moment you guys entered, Sam dragging him away to help him do something you don’t recall. He returned after you went to bed, whenever that was. And now this. It felt wrong that he was uncomfortable in his home. It wasn’t his fault that you weren’t over what he called “a seasonal distraction”.

“stay” you rasped; your voice too low to be heard. You tried again. “Stay, James.”

He stilled. Stood frozen on the threshold long enough for you to wonder if he’d fallen asleep standing up. And then he turned. His eyes full of something you were scared to decipher. The silence was too oppressive, even for you.

“we both know this would happen. We’re both adults, we can co inhabit a space without it imploding” your head was about to implode though, and not from the headache.

“yeah, right. Youre right.” He mumbled, still sticking by the door, which was a good thing because you needed coffee, and you were sure you couldn’t function properly with him in close proximity.

You turned towards the fancy coffee maker, which was far more advanced than the old spluttering relic that you had in your dorm. You fiddled with the buttons, trying to get it to work.

“here, let me.” He said, the low raspy baritone that made you shiver. You hoped he thought it was the morning chill.

He skirted around you to get to the counter, and yet his subtle smell plagued your senses. He turned the shiny knobs easily with his right arm, putting in a new filter and placing a cup near the nozzle.

“you still take your coffee black?”

The question, innocent at its core, jarred you. your ex remembering a small detail about your from years ago was not on your bingo card, but there you are.

“uh I umm, yes.” You internally cringed at the fact that you, the mock trial champion, was stuttering. He nodded slightly and continued.

“How can anyone like something like this?!” he gagged, sliding your cup over to you.

“that’s what you get for taking a sip without my permission Barnes.” You smirked, snuggling in his outstretched arms, ready to resume his favourite movie that you honestly didn’t understand. All you cared for was spending time with him, even if it was hidden in his apartment.

“Atleast add sugar to it doll. Its too damn bitter.” He coughed.

“I like it bitter.”

You jerked at the small beep from the machine. Your eyes involuntarily went to his, only to recognise the same surprise there, as if this conversation took him to some other. the very thought of it gave you hope, and hope, you’ve realised over the years, is the most dangerous thing.

You hastily grabbed the cup, too eager to end this interaction. His presence was triggering emotions you have avoided for too long.

In your hurry you toppled the cup over, its blistering hot content pouring out. But before you could feel the burn, a shiny metal gripped your wrist and tugged you away. You staggered and stumbled forwards, bumping into his chest.

It was you who froze this time. too incapacitated by his smell, his body, him to move. You felt him draw in deep breaths, his heartbeat audibly speeding up. you stayed there for god knows how long.

It was he who withdrew. Because of course it was. You regained your composure and jumped back, frightened by the comfort that had washed over you in that moment.

“Thank you.” you gasped, and bolted out of the room right that instant.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #steve and bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns #bucky fluff #fanfic #avengers fandom

311 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 1 year ago

Text

All The Rumours Are True - Sam Abrams x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @annieradcliff @thebewingedjewelcat @cosmic-psychickitty

Brief references to Better and Will's struggles in Smoke Break

Sam doesn’t realise there’s a rumour about him until he sees two interns in the elevator tittering and nudging each other. He’s used to commanding a certain level of respect and he’s worked hard to cultivate his reputation. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly and he has very little time for gossip and nonsense. He doesn’t say anything, he simply lowers the chart he’s reading and tilts his head towards them. The giggling stops immediately.

Good, he thinks. Now he can concentrate.

“Doctor Abrams.”

He sighs and lowers the chart a second time and fixes the interns with a steely glare. The first one shrinks back, the second one straightens their shoulders before continuing to speak.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” He asks mildly irritated by the interaction.

“About your wife.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow into a frown and his heart starts to beat a little faster in his chest. He’s a logical man, but when it comes to you his brain jumps to all sorts of irrational conclusions. Are you sick? Are you hurt? Have you been brought into the E.D?

“What about my wife?” He snaps, clutching the clipboard to his chest. The intern changes their mind about the interaction and instead takes a step away from him falling silent. Sam rolls his eyes at the response before sighing and adjusting his tone. “What is going on with my wife?”

“Oh!” The intern says, their cheeks colouring as they fluster. “No, she’s fine. I think she’s fine. She’s not here, at least I don’t think she is… I wanted to ask you about her book.”

Sam leans back against the wall of the elevator and exhales loudly.

For a second there…

His brain snags on the interns’ words before he turns his attention back to them.

“Yes, my wife wrote a book.” He informs them. “It’s on the Times Bestseller’s List at the moment.”

“I’ve read it!” One of the interns abruptly tells him, before gesturing between them and the other intern. “We both have.”

“Ok.” Sam shrugs his shoulders. “Good for you.”

The doors to the elevator open on his floor and Sam is relieved to leave the weird exchange with the interns behind him.

***

It’s Halstead that brings the rumour to his attention. Ever since Jimmy Lanik made a comment that Will reminds him of Beaker from the Muppets, Sam can’t unsee it. Sometimes when he’s prattling on, Sam tunes him out and imagines Beaker’s voice just to get through the conversation.

“I didn’t know your wife was an author.” He says conversationally his elbow comes to rest on workspace that Sam is scribbling down his notes on.

“She didn’t take my last name.” Sam mutters as his pen scratches across the paper. “She’s very much her own woman.”

“Very modern.” Will remarks, nodding sagely.

As far as Sam is concerned that’s the end of the conversation. His personal life is exactly that. Only now Halstead is hovering like he wants to say something else, and Sam hates this sort of dilly dallying.

“Spit it out.” He says, setting his pen down on the clipboard.

“Her book really helped me.” Will says finally, his mouth set in a thin line as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I was in a really bad place a couple of months ago and Doctor Charles recommended it. It really changed my perspective on mental health and how I view myself.”

“Oh.” Sam says, nodding his head in understanding. “Good.”

He plays with the silver Parker Pen, you had bought him for his birthday between his fingertips. He’s always wanted one, but he’s just never seen the point. He doesn’t write correspondence; everything is digital these days. His desire for it wasn’t logical, he just knew he liked it. When he’d opened the box with the rainbow-coloured bow on he had been completely delighted.

Sometimes there doesn’t have to be a point, you had told him as his thumb had trailed over the customised engraving. It’s just something you feel in your heart.

“My wife is very good at what she does.” He says to Will, his gaze lingering on the pen in his hands. “For her counselling is a calling. During and then after the pandemic, the mental health services were overwhelmed with people in crisis. It started as a blog initially and then it gained traction from there. She started writing her book in the evenings as a way of reaching people who didn’t have access to the help they needed. She wanted them to understand that they weren’t alone in their struggles, to help them find a way through the darkness. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.”

Sam sighs before clipping his pen back into the top pocket of his lab coat.

“I’m glad it helped you, that’s it’s doing the work she set out to do.”

“I went to her book talk; Jimmy’s wife was going, and she invited me along. She thought it would be good for me.” Will says abruptly as Sam is about to walk away. “There were a few others from Med there, I think that’s why…”

Will trails off and Sam finishes the sentence because suddenly it all makes sense.

“… everybody is talking about me and my wife.”

“There’s no author picture in the back of her book and her social media is private. Nobody realised that the woman we’ve seen you having lunch with is the same one that wrote the book until then.” Will tells him.

“And you’re all wondering what she’s doing with a man like me.” Sam summarises, before rapping his fingertips upon the surface of the workspace.

Will shakes his head.

“Actually no.” He informs the neurosurgeon. “Part of the talk was her discussing her own mental health issues, how the pandemic and the pressure of it, took its toll on her. She told us about how her husband had supported her through it, how he was this beacon of light in a very dark time of her life.”

“Oh.” Sam says.

He doesn’t like to think about that, about how much you were suffering. He remembers the night you broke down, sobbing into his chest because you’d spent weeks struggling and it had all become too much. The burden of other people’s hurt had become too hard to bear and you were coming part at the seams. The next day he had marched into Goodwin’s office and told her to clear his schedule. There were more important things going on at home and he needed to be there. She had been understanding, cut back his hours until the storm had passed, allowed him a phased return so he could be there when you attended your own appointments. He would take you out afterwards, the bookstore, the ice cream shop, skating once – which he was horrible at. Things to make you feel better because therapy could be brutal and all the wanted was to see you see you smile again.

“She’s the love of my life.” He explains to Will. “I hated seeing her in so much pain. It gave me a little insight into why she wrote the book. She had access to the help she needed, but what about those that don’t?”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest.

“Before that they were just statistics but afterwards…” He shakes his head as he recalls that moment of realisation. “It reminded me that there are people behind those numbers, individuals who don’t have the tools to cope.”

He pauses before he meets Will’s eyes. It’s rare that he is this open with anyone outside of you, but Halstead’s bore his soul by mentioning his issues. It seems only fair that Sam returns the gesture.

“My wife is a very special person.” He tells the other man. “It’ll mean the world to her to know that her book helped you through a tough time.”

“The work she’s doing…” Will says as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “It saves lives.”

Sam thinks about his own emotional state before he met you. The nights he’d come home and put on Tchaikovsky before pouring himself a Scotch, the hours he would spend pouring over medical journals, reading articles, watching highlights from seminars and conferences he’d missed. There had been no work life balance for him, there was just work and there was always plenty of it to be done. Then he had met you. His world had gone from shades of grey to erupting with colour.

Dates filled with laugher, good food, tender kisses. Late mornings spent making love, while the two of you listened to the rain patter against the windows. He’d started reading fiction again, getting hooked on Dan Brown before exploring other literary works. He’d joined a book club hosted by one of the firefighters from 51 to expand his horizons, made some friends along the way. He’s happier than he’s ever been and that’s all thanks to you.

“I know.” He tells Will frankly. “She saved mine too.”

Love Sam? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#doctor sam abrams #sam abrams x you #sam abrams x reader #sam abrams #samuel abrams x you #samual abrams x reader #samuel abrams #doctor samuel abrams

81 notes · View notes

perseephoneee · 12 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @artyandink

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with Bucky Barnes! While you both are pretty black cat coded, I think you could pull him out of his shell a lot. He'd really appreciate your pragmatism, and would enjoy getting to hear about all your various passions. Also, you being confrontational and stubborn will be very great in getting him to confront his issues. Sam will thank you alter.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

Sometimes Bucky trains you, especially when he's needing to blow off some steam. And then during training, you can blow off steam in other ways ;)

Bucky isn't great with words of affirmation, so he makes sure to give you lots of physical touch. Whether its holding your hand or pulling you into his lap while watching movies, he seeks to always be close to you.

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

friends to lovers

nerd (you) x secret nerd (bucky)

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

kiss me by sixpence none the richer

everlong by foo fighters

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with George Weasley! Both Weasley twins are pranksters by heart, but George is the more empathetic of the two. He'd always give you reasons to laugh, while also being someone to lean on when things get tough. Plus, the two of you will very likely get into hijinks with the ruder Slyterhins.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

Molly was so excited to see George bring home such a self-starter. Then she started asking Fred why he couldn't do the same.

George spent eons pushing notes under your door in Gryffindor's common room, thinking you ignored all of them. Truth is, you kept every single one.

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

he fell first but she fell harder

sunshine (him) x stars (you)

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

feels like by gracie abrams

cloud 9 by beach bunny

-͟͟͞☆I ship you with Sam Winchester! You have just enough fire to keep Sam on his toes, but you guys both have a common love for knowledge and a generosity for others. You'll keep him grounded when he gets lost in the drama, and he'll always have your back when things become dire.

-͟͟͞☆Headcanons:

You are always reading the same books, and at some point Dean (while denying being a nerd), gets a little jealous so you both invite him to join your pseudo book club.

If you had a nickel for each time Dean caught you and Sam getting handsy in the library, you'd have two nickels. Which you'd then give to Dean for becoming scarred.

-͟͟͞☆Tropes:

reigning trivia night winners

whatever when harry met sally are

-͟͟͞☆Playlist:

just breathe by pearl jam

the night we met by lord huron

#ship exchange #i ship you #match exchange #marvel #avengers #harry potter #supernatural #spn #bucky barnes #george weasley #sam winchester

9 notes · View notes

hardbeingcasual · 2 years ago

Text

WHERE DO WE GO NOW? x fem reader

WARNINGS: Suicide, blood, angst, grief, Y/N mention

SUMMARY: After your boyfriend Henry takes his own life due to his brother Sam getting bit and turning, you struggle to deal with the grief as you have to leave both Henry and Sam behind.

notes: i’m not even going to lie i made this for me i LOVEEE henry , title is a gracie abrams song ⭐️ haven’t read over this so sorry if it suckssssss

update as of nov 2023 ….. gracie abrams is a Freakkk so pretend the title isnt her song…. i’m not removing it incase people wanted 2 come back to this so yeah

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You, Henry and Joel all wake up in alert as you hear screaming and snarling coming from the room Ellie and Sam had slept in the night before. Before you could even properly wake up Ellie comes running through, Sam on her tail, but it wasn’t actually Sam. He had turned into one of the infected. Your heart hurts at the sight of it.

Joel quickly tries to get the gun that was on the floor but Henry was quick and beat him to it, he aims the gun at Joel who tries to help Ellie, but then Henry shoots the floor. He then turns to his brother who was still trying to bite Ellie on the floor and puts the bullet right in his head. You flinch at the sound of the gunshot as tears brim at your eyes at the sight of the young boy lifeless on the floor.!

“Ellie, are you okay?” Joel pants as he stares at the young girl with concern, he tries to go forward to comfort her but Henry then aims the gun at him again.

“Henry—” You try to speak but Joel gives you a look that told you to stop.

“What did I do?” Henry mutters.

“Wha—What’d I do?” He stammers as he tries to process whatever just happened moments prior. “Sam.”

“Give me the gun,” Joel instructs, Henry does not. “Give me the gun.” Henry looks back at his little brother before raising the gun to the side of his head, “HENRY NO!” Joel shouts as Henry makes eye contact with you and pulling the trigger.

“NO!” You cry out as Henrys body falls to the ground. You feel sick to your stomach as you see the person you loved the most on the ground, lifeless and unmoving. You let sobs escape you as your shaking hands cover your face to hide yourself from the world.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You stare off into the distance as you were sat next to the graves Joel had dug for Henry and Sam. You put your head on your knees as some tears escape your eyes at the thought of them not being here anymore. You hear footsteps behind you but you didn’t move an inch.

“Hey, Y/N,” It was Ellie. “We’re leaving.” She states.

Before Henry and Sam had passed, the three of you had decided you’d go to Wyoming with Joel and Ellie to Joel’s brothers. You didn’t even move an inch when Ellie had came over to you.

You could feel both Joel and Ellies stares on you but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was wallow in self pity. “Just go. I’ll stay here, with them.” Ellie and Joel share a look. Ellie makes her way over to you and sits next to you, before wrapping her arms around you, in a hug. You let the young girl hug you as you were deep down the spiral of grief to care about anything going on at the moment.

Ellie breaks the thick silence, “I know what it’s like.” She pauses, as your head lifts from your knees to look at hers. Your blood shot eyes making contact with hers. “To loose someone you care about.” She finishes as she notices a stray tear that slipped out of your eye.

You let her words sink in, you look back at the graves. Henry’s. Then Sam’s. You sigh as you feel your lips start to tremble. “Let’s go then.” Your croaky voice breaks Joel and Ellie from their thoughts. “They wouldn’t want me sitting here like an idiot.” You say, looking down sadly down at the graves that held your boys. You grab your bag Ellie had brought over for you, launching it over your shoulder and walking west. Not noticing Ellie leave Sam’s little writing thing he used to communicate with those who couldn’t do sign language. The words Ellie had written on it were ‘I’m sorry’

tags @zndayacc

#henry tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfic #joel miller #ellie williams #henry and sam #henry burrell #henry burell fanfic #sam and henry

105 notes · View notes

thegigilwriter · 5 months ago

Text

16 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary. 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Chapter Summary. After an eventful day at work— an annoying co-worker and word of a possible advancement in her career, Lucy spends some quality time with Nat.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Inaccuracies about marine biologists, implications of sexism, fluff

16 | Lucy’s Surprise 💐

September 27, 2023

“Great dive fellas,ˮ Dr. Agnes Foster announced. “Weʼre docking soon, now listen up...ˮ

Lucy was last to arrive on the stern. Lifting her scuba mask from her eyes and wiping the excess water from her face, she sat herself on the precipice of the boat. She expertly slipped off her fins and slightly lowered the zipper on her bodysuit.

“Ugh, Diego.ˮ Lucy sighed as she picked up the abandoned set of fins nearby and set off towards the main deck with the others. A hand reached out to her as she rose and she beheld Chenʼs kind face.

“Thanks,ˮ Lucy smiled taking his fingers as she came aboard. “Diego left these again.ˮ

Chen nodded, taking his fins from her hand as they set off to the final conference of the day. Chen Zhao was a character who seldom spoke — especially when it came to the ladies. He was a little older than Sam with inky black hair, thin eyes, and a broad nose. He was the tallest of their bunch and spoke the most languages, which ironically for such an introverted individual, was is favorite hobby. Chen was brilliant with tech and research, and alongside Sam — they were quite the pair to be reckoned with.

“Where the hell have you two been?ˮ Dr. Agnes squinted with her hands on her hips. “I told you not pick up after Diegoʼs shit, Lucy.ˮ

“They were about to float out to sea, Doctor.ˮ

“Then so will his paycheck!ˮ She hissed. “Now get your asses down here — we need to prep for the upcoming conference in Japan. Our research is one of two chosen in the entire North America continent...ˮ

“Thanks wifey,ˮ Diego winked beside her. Lucy rolled her eyes. Far before Lucy had met Jake ‘Hangmanʼ Seresin, she already had the pleasure of working with Diego ‘The Tigerʼ Alcaraz. Aside from Dr. Foster, Diego was the oldest— 37-year- old bachelor from Tarifa, Spain, known for his sixth sense for whales and his amorous reputation among women. Heʼs 6ʼ0, sandy-eyed, blue-eyed, fit, and well- articulated. There are rumors that he once modeled and acted to pay off his student loans. He loves to write and heʼs mostly harmless... but he did have a tendency to pick on Lucy when he feels like it from time to time.

“... Now on the matter of the presentation,ˮ Dr. Agnes announced. “This year, I have decided that one of my associates... will join me on stage.ˮ

Silence ensued the space.

“But... only research heads are permitted to do so,ˮ Sam raised. “Doctor — whatʼs going on?ˮ

Dr. Agnes casted her eyes downwards and took her glasses from the bridge of her nose and placed on of its legs between her teeth.

“...youʼre not retiring, are you?ˮ Sam asked.

“No,ˮ she sighed. “But Dr. Murphy will.ˮ

“Youʼve been asked the Director position,ˮ Diego said. “I thought Dr. Murphy retiring was only a rumor!ˮ

“Doctor...ˮ Lucy breathed. “If thatʼs the case... then you would be the first woman Director of Umi— in history.ˮ

“It isnʼt final,ˮ Dr. Agnes spoke slowly. “Iʼm in the running with another esteemed individual whose identity I will not be disclos—“

“Itʼs Dr. Abrams,ˮ Diego informed confidently. Dr. Agnes glared at him.

“I will be neither be confirming nor denying that,ˮ she ignored. “But I just want to make sure that in the event that I do become Director, I would like to leave this research group in the best hands — and I would like to make known those two individuals whom I am considering for... right now.ˮ

They waited with bated breath, and in that moment, Lucy stared at the faces of her fellow associates. Chen and Diego would make the most sense. Diego has worked with Dr. Agnes the longest and had both an amazing applicable and theoretical understanding of cetology and the nature of their research. Chen on the other hand was simply brilliant. Whenever Dr. Agnes needed something typed up — a proposal, a report, a finding — she always went to Chen and he always got it done in no time. Not to mention, because of his tech savvy background, Chen would have the upper hand of using new technology that would further the reach of not only the research of cetology — but of other fields. The man was also basically an encyclopedia of marine biology!

“Diego and Lucy.ˮ

Lucy froze. Her heart had stopped, not quite comprehending the names that had just come out of Dr. Agnesʼ lips.

“The conference is at the end of March in Tokyo. More details will be communicated in the near future. For now... gird your loins.ˮ On that note, they all felt the ship dock at Umi and Dr. Agnes acknowledged them with a nod before exiting — then everyone shared an exhale.

“Congratulations Lucy,ˮ Sam smiled. “I knew youʼd get it.ˮ Chen also came up behind her, patting her shoulder fondly.

“Not so fast, Trace.ˮ Diego tutted. “Lucy isnʼt the only one with the ballot in the hat.ˮ

“Right,ˮ Sam rolled his eyes. “Diego ‘Peacockʼ Alcaraz is.ˮ

“You know itʼs Tiger!ˮ He countered fiercely. “Besides, I have seniority — the position is rightfully mine. The only reason why Lucy is in the mix is because sheʼs a gir—“

“Are you sure you want to finish that?ˮ Sam spoke. “Because if I remember, Lucy kicked your —“

“Leave him be Sam,ˮ Lucy sighed. “I will not dignify what he just said with a response.ˮ

Diego smiled. “Youʼve grown quite a bit to be an amiable little lady Lucy,ˮ he chuckled. “Have to admit... I kind of wished you were still the spitfire I first met... but of course things happen in life — and with Ford and all... I guess youʼve just lost that fire.ˮ

Sam considered Lucy carefully, her eyes defiant but her stance calm as she began to fix her belongings into her tote and head towards the dock.

“Maybe you need some other things to occupy your life, so wouldnʼt have to hold on to this promotion?ˮ He goaded.

Just then, as she stepped out from the ship, she was met with young red-headed girl in denim shorts with a bouquet of flowers.

“Hi,ˮ she spoke nervously. “Are you Lucy Mitchell?ˮ

“Yes?ˮ she replied.

“These are for you... from a... Bradley Bradshaw?ˮ

All suffocating feeling gripping her instantly washed away when she first whiffed the scent of the babyʼs breath, the assortment of colored-roses, and, daisies wrapped in pretty crepe paper.

“Sign here please,ˮ she smiled and Lucy did as directed. Behind her, Sam was smirking widely at Diegoʼs amused expression. Chen approached her.

“Those are beautiful,ˮ he said quietly.

“Thank you, Chen.ˮ Lucy smiled at the flowers. Sam followed, ignoring Diegoʼs nosy stare. Chen pointed to something concealed in the babyʼs breath.

“Whatʼs that?ˮ Sam remarked as Lucy retrieved the mystery items.

“Tickets to the Monterey Bay Aquarium,ˮ Lucy breathed. “And... a Coldplay concert in Santa Clara.ˮ

“Ooh, lucky! The Aquarium has a new one-of-a-kind Into the Deep Exhibition! Plus Coldplay front-row tickets— and itʼs this weekend!ˮ

A small placard revealed itself among the tickets.

Happy Birthday, Angel

Pack your bags. This is non-negotiable.

Love, Daddy

Lucy blushed, hiding the writing hastily out of sight.

Lucy stepped out of the foyer, donning a some dark wash denim shirts, sandals, and a breezy pale blouse. Her salty beach waves were held up with a pearly clamp and she had on a pair of one of Francescaʼs oversized sunglasses. She was about to send Bradley a text when a silver sedan pulled up in front of her and rolled down the driverʼs window — revealing Nat in a cute sundress.

“Hi,ˮ Lucy smiled. “Are you picking Sam up? Heʼs working overtime, today.ˮ

“Iʼm picking you up Luce,ˮ she replied. “Bradleyʼs stuck at work and he gave me his card to get our nails done. Get in!ˮ

Lucy went around to the passengerʼs side just as Nat was clearing out the seat and throwing things at the back.

“You can put your tote and flowers at the back too,ˮ she told her. “Sorry for the mess.ˮ

“My carʼs a disaster too,ˮ Lucy laughed. “Youʼre fine.ˮ

Nat chuckled as Lucy strapped herself in and the car was on drive, exiting the parking lot.

“Nice hair,ˮ Nat remarked. “You guys went for a dive, or something?ˮ

“Oh yeah,ˮ Lucy grinned. “Love the water, hate the paperwork.ˮ

“I hear that,ˮ Nat nodded as she stopped at an intersection. “So... any salon you regularly go to?ˮ

“No...ˮ she replied, staring at her nails — weathered and short. “I donʼt really get my nails done unless Iʼm with Francesca or thereʼs a family thing...ˮ

“Thatʼs okay,ˮ Nat smiled, turning left into a boulevard. “We can go to my girl.ˮ

“Hey... does Bradley really intend for us to get our nails done?ˮ

“Well...ˮ Nat frowned a little looking over at Lucy. “If youʼre not comfortable with that we can always do something else, babe. We can get something to eat or shop a little...ˮ

“Thank you Nat, but I think Iʼd rather just go home...ˮ Lucy sighed.

“Are you feeling, okay?ˮ Her brow creased with concern.

“Iʼm okay...ˮ

“Cʼmon now Luce, this may work with Rooster but it wonʼt work with me...ˮ

Lucy conceded, sighing.

“Iʼm in the running for a promotion—“

“Thatʼs great!ˮ Nat exclaimed. “All the more reason to celebrate— Wait. Whatʼs wrong?ˮ

“Itʼs just something really stupid that a coworker made me think. Itʼs nothing. Never mind.ˮ

“You come from one of those families, huh?ˮ Nat spoke. “The kind that made you feel if you pretend your problems arenʼt there, then itʼll all be better?ˮ

Lucy averted her gaze in her direction.

“My grandparents were like that,ˮ she continued. “Thatʼs why I never really know my dad as I should have. Heʼs been shut like a clam all my life... But I also learned from Rooster... itʼs not really obvious... but heʼs a little clueless when it comes to you, you know?ˮ

“Itʼs okay,ˮ she smiled. “That there are some things youʼd rather not tell anyone... I mean thereʼs a lot about me Iʼd rather take to my grave. But... donʼt make him feel that youʼre pushing him away, okay? He hates that. Youʼre really good to him and the sucker is a sucker for you...ˮ

Lucy looked down at her hands.

“A coworker feel made me today that the only reason Iʼm in it for the promotion is because Iʼm a girl and my boss is a girl and we were just... helping each other out.ˮ Lucy sighed. “Maybe heʼs right, you know? Diego has more years of experience than me and when it comes to whales— heʼs basically a whisperer! I wasnʼt even qualified for this team in the first place. I-I donʼt know...ˮ

“And does getting your nails done make you feel even more like a girl which in turn furthers your point?ˮ

Lucy nodded slowly.

“Okay letʼs get one thing clear,ˮ Nat replied. “This Diego figure sounds like an insecure asshole whose name sounds like it belongs to a fuckboy.ˮ

Lucy suppressed a derisive laugh.

“Lucy, Iʼve worked among men for many years and if thereʼs anything I can tell you is that you cannot change their behavior, their mentality, and even how they look at you. Thereʼs a real, inherit, biological component there... which also means that they can be and will be stupid until the end of time unless evolution says otherwise. But what you can change... is how you look at yourself. Are you capable? Lucy, are you capable?ˮ

“I like to believe so.ˮ

“Iʼm looking for a ‘yes,ʼ babe.ˮ

“Yes.ˮ

“Do you work hard?ˮ

“I do.ˮ

“Do you want this job?ˮ

“Badly.ˮ

“Then donʼt even worry about the shit that this Diego says. He doesnʼt matter in this equation, you do. You should never think badly of being a woman and neither should you apologize for it. Okay?ˮ

“Okay,ˮ Lucy replied quietly.

“Okay?ˮ

“Okay!ˮ

“What does this Diego even have on you? Why is he acting like some sexually frustrated little bitch?ˮ

Lucy laughed.

“I uh...ˮ Lucy picked at her jeans nervously. “I may have... sucker-punched him in the throat when we first met because he wouldnʼt stop asking me out,ˮ she replied nonchalantly as Nat finally pulled into what appeared to be a nail salon.

“Woah, baddie in the house…ˮ Nat stared at her as Lucy chuckled. “You know what? I donʼt know about you, but Iʼm going ultra-fem with my nails today and Iʼm not taking anyoneʼs shit for it tomorrow.ˮ

“I might just join you,ˮ Lucy smiled, ducking out of the passengerʼs side.

We all need a hype woman like Nat to pick us up on our bad days, sometimes :)) Personally I prefer not to get my nails done ‘cause I have a weird sensory issue… does anyone else have that? 😂 Anyways, gird your loins! Got a ‘whole lot of fluff (and some spice 😉 🌶️) up ahead!But first, let’s kick it off with some important deets for the plot at 17 | Birthday Wish!

Taglist: @itsarabellebabes

9 notes · View notes