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Thumper

In which y/n is pretty sure her neighbor hates her, and Harry needs someone to take care of his bunny.

+++

For y/n, the month of December was truly the best part of the year.

She absolutely loved getting into the holiday spirit: whether that meant hanging multi-colored fairy lights around her bed frame, baking snowman shaped cookies for her friends and family, or busting out her reindeer printed fuzzy socks – she loved it all.

And, more importantly, she loved getting three weeks off from school. Winter break meant the end of finals week, which meant no more flashcards waiting to be memorized or textbooks waiting to be annotated. Just pure holiday bliss and seasonal joy.

The only part of the holiday season that y/n wasn’t particularly fond of was New Years.

While many considered the new year to be a “new beginning,” y/n only really thought of it as the official end to her holiday joy. She never really indulged in the thought of new year’s resolutions – in fact, she found them to be quite silly. Why on Earth would someone create a half-hearted promise to themselves, knowing very well that they would give up on their goal one month into the new year? It seemed like a far too disappointing cycle for her.

But this year… this year was different.

The ending of this year also meant that the lease on her current apartment was ending. Now, don’t get her wrong! Y/n doesn’t hate her roommates or anything. She’s actually incredibly close with the three girls that she’d spent the last two years living with, and considers them to be some of her closest friends.

But, as the months went by, y/n realized that a two bedroom, one bathroom flat was far too small for four girls to peacefully coexist in. They were always nagging each other to clean the dishes, fighting over who gets to shower first in their tiny bathroom. And honestly… she was getting really tired of listening to Nia (a business major) rehearse presentations at 3 AM.

So, when y/n timidly mentioned that she was thinking about moving out, the three other girls agreed that their living situation wasn’t the most ideal, promised that they would still remain besties even if they didn’t live with each other, and began to search for their own places so that they could turn in their keys at the end of the year.

For the first time in her life, y/n had a place of her own. And that was honestly the best thing the new year could’ve brought for her.

+++

It’s safe to say that the first morning y/n wakes up in her new apartment is undoubtedly one the most euphoric moments she’s ever experienced.

The window facing her bed allows for the morning sun to light up her room, slowly rousing her from her slumber. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes a moment for her to fully recognize that: no, she’s not dreaming and yes, she’s actually in her new apartment!

She sits up and stretches, flexing her muscles and twisting her back until she hears the delicious sound of her spine cracking – a sign that she’d slept through the night like a baby. Glancing out the window, she notices a little bluebird perched on her balcony’s railing.

Yes, a balcony!

It had actually been one of the main reasons she chose this apartment building. Although it was a rather small balcony, she immediately fell in love with it. The railings were twisted and had a rustic look that reminded her of the balcony Juliet would stand on in a Shakespearian play, and it overlooked a beautiful cobblestone street. When she first saw the balcony during the apartment tour, she immediately envisioned herself spending her mornings out here with a nice cup of tea, maybe doing her assigned readings out in the fresh air. There was just enough room for y/n to make a cozy little nook for herself, with fairy lights strung around railings and fluffy pillows piled on loveseats for her to chill out on.

She scrambles out of her bed and rushes over to the window, smudging the glass with her fingertips as her palms press flat against it. The glass is ice cold to the touch and fogs up around her nose, a sign of how cold the morning air outside must be. Dressed in a pair of flowery sleep shorts and a sweatshirt with her university’s logo embroidered on the front, she’s hardly dressed appropriately – but she slides the glass door open anyway and steps out onto the balcony. She can’t help it, she’s just so excited!

As soon as she slides the door open, the chilly air invades her senses, her lungs burning and legs prickling with goosebumps. She leans her forearms on the railing and looks at the street below, empty of any cars or people. Directly across the street from her building, she sees a small antique store, and right next to that, a cute little cafe with cartoonish snowflakes painted onto the glass windows. Dozens of other restaurants and boutiques line the street, not yet open but anticipating the rush of people that would most likely flood in within the next few hours. y/n makes a mental note to herself to text her ex-roommates and invite them to visit the coffee shop she currently had her eye on.

Yeah, maybe it was a little cold, and maybe there’s nowhere to sit, but honestly, all y/n could think about was how much she loved her brand new balcony in her brand new apartment.

Life couldn’t get any better than this.

+++

Harry isn't too big on New Year’s resolutions.

You see, he’s not fond of forcing himself to do things (the more pressure he has on himself to finish something, the less he wants to do it), and he really doesn’t like dealing with the inevitable end of year disappointment that comes with not finishing what he starts. He knows the chances of him actually going through with his resolutions are quite slim, so he doesn’t find a point in establishing any.

Therefore, he really only has one goal for the upcoming year. Don’t let Thumper die.

Thumper is the love of Harry’s life. When Harry realized just how lonely living alone could get, he decided he needed a companion to love and care for. He had the fullest intentions of going to his local adoption center and befriending a little kitty like Evie (his cat back home) so that the two cats could get along when he visited his family. But, when he stepped into the adoption center and saw Thumper, tiny and frail compared to most bunnies his age, he knew he had found his new best friend.

So really, Harry’s only “resolution” is something he knows he wouldn’t be giving up on any time soon.

As he brews himself a steaming vanilla latte (with a shot of caramel cream on top), he gives Thumper a little bit of food, petting at the bunny’s furry cheeks as he nibbles some hay from his fingers. When he turns away momentarily to pour his brewed coffee into a mug, the rabbit proceeds to thump its clunky hind feet (hence the name), begging to be the center of Harry’s attention once again.

Obviously, Harry could never ignore his bunny’s pleas for love – so he quickly picks up his mug in one hand, and, similar to the way a mother holds their newborn baby, coddles Thumper to his chest with the other. Thumper tends to get uneasy when he’s high up from the ground, usually thumping against Harry’s forearms to display his displeasure, so Harry always makes sure he’s sitting or lying down when cuddling with his bunny. Taking a seat on his pink sofa, he turns the TV on to a random news channel and gently runs his hand up and down Thumper’s back, cooing every time the fluffy bunny twitches his tiny nose with approval.

Once Thumper is happily settled and Harry’s finished with his coffee, he places Thumper back into his comfy den and puts his dirty mug in the sink. Grabbing the watering can from right underneath, he fills the can until he has a suitable amount of water for the flowers he grows on his balcony.

Whistling along to a happy tune (“Whistle While You Work” from Snow White), he steps onto the balcony and takes a deep lung-full of the pristine air. The sky was serene, the morning dew was fresh on the railing, and everything was at peace.

That is, until an unrecognizable voice far too energetic for the tranquil calm of the morning startles him.

“Hi!”

Harry drops the watering can out of surprise and whirls around, yelping out a “bloody hell!” before his eyes land on a stranger.

“Who are you?” he grumbles, putting a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart, thumping hard from the scare.

The girl’s eyes widen, clearly not having expected to get such a reaction from her neighbor, and she carefully introduces herself, much quieter than the initial greeting she’d just given him. “Umm, I’m y/n. I just moved in.” She flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry for scaring you, wasn’t my intention.”

Harry looks down to assess the damage his startle caused. His watering can is on its side, laying in a puddle and steadily leaking out water, while his sock-covered feet are soaked through (one his biggest pet peeves are wet socks).

Looking back up to the girl, he sees her nervously chewing on her lip and fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. She seems more scared of him than he had been of her, and very timidly makes eye contact with him, praying that he wouldn’t explode on her.

Harry saves his breath.

“That’s alright,” he responds as nicely as he can muster up (wet socks = grumpy Harry), picking up the watering can from the floor. He runs into his apartment, slipping on a new, dry pair of socks, refilling the watering can, and grabbing a towel to clean up his balcony.

Y/n still has her brows furrowed in distress when he comes back outside, quickly confessing, “I really am sorry… I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just excited to meet my new neighbor, I guess.”

He doesn’t make eye contact with her when he says, “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay. No need to fret,” focusing his attention, instead, on making sure the floors are dry.

“I just moved in yesterday you know! I dunno if you saw all the boxes n’ stuff, but that was me!” Christ, was she still there? He thought she would’ve gone back inside after he gave so little attention to her.

Again, he barely looks in her direction when he responds, “I hadn’t noticed anyone was moving in.” His answer is short, clipped, and uninterested.

The girl carries on the conversation, “Yeah, I’m super excited about moving in and everything! It’s my first time living without anyone and it’s just so nice to have all this space to myself– y’know I made some cookies last night, and I was gonna bring ‘em over later today to introduce myself but since we already met I could totally bring them over–”

Harry cuts her off right there. “Don’t put yourself through the trouble,” he says tersely, sparing her one final glance before walking back into his apartment.

He holds eye contact with her as he slides the balcony door shut.

+++

Y/n’s positive she’s made her neighbor hate her.

She’s drinking coffee with her ex-roommates, Sameera, Savanna, and Nia, at the coffee shop she saw earlier that morning from her balcony window, explaining her conundrum.

“I just don’t know what to do! I didn’t do anything to make him hate me. I mean, except for balcony thing, but obviously I didn’t mean to scare him! He wouldn’t even look at me!”

She tried to make things up to him, greeting him calmly on the balcony the next time they were out there at the same time, but only managed to get the grimest acknowledgement from him. He avoided eye contact with her whenever they passed each other in the hallways, would shut his door if he ever saw her coming out at the same time as him, and would stay silent if they ever got caught in the elevator together.

He hates her, she’s sure of it.

At this point, she’s honestly just given up, opting to just sit with her mug and book silently when he watered his plants on the balcony each morning. Far better than the hurt she’d feel when he’d inevitably ignore her if she tried to make small talk again.

“Maybe he’s got a fragile sense of masculinity and is embarrassed that he got scared by a girl,” Nia says, taking a bite of her croissant, “so now he can’t face you anymore.”

Sameera adds on to that, “Or he’s intimidated by you. Is he ugly? Ugly guys tend to be intimidated by pretty girls.”

Y/n is quick to deny this with a furrow in her brows. “Oh, but he’s not! He was really cute,” she pouts. Considering his reluctance to make eye contact with her during their short conversation, y/n had plenty of time to unabashedly admire her next door neighbor. He had chocolate brown hair, swept atop his head in messy waves and bright green eyes that glimmered in the dreary, gray morning weather. And though he had an intimidating demeanor, with his short attitude and furrowed brows, the fact that he was wrapped up in a fuzzy, lavender sweatshirt made him ever so endearing to her.

Call her crazy, but she has a bit of a crush.

“What’s his name?” asks Savanna, chiming into the conversation for the first time.

Y/n has to think for a moment before she responds. “I don’t think he even told me! I just said hey and he walked away from me!” She sits back and crosses her arms, huffing sadly, “Maybe this is a sign from the universe that I should just stay away from boys in general.”

“Don’t say that!” Savanna defends, “You’re beautiful and a total sweetheart. Nia’s right, he probably just has a bruised ego for now. Just be yourself and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

+++

Being herself doesn’t work.

Yesterday, when she’d clearly been running with all of her groceries to catch the elevator, he made direct eye contact with her as the doors shut. Made no effort to hold the elevator for her. Just watched her struggle with her groceries as the elevators closed.

Y/n accepts the fact that he’s probably not going to come around.

+++

It’s 10 PM on a Tuesday night when someone comes frantically knocking on y/n’s door.

She’d just been painting in her living room (a casual hobby of hers), dressed in a pair of dark blue, denim overalls splattered with paint, when out of nowhere someone was at her door, knocking as if they were in a life or death situation.

She has no idea who it could be, and is honestly a bit frightened considering this person is pounding on her door so violently, but she hurries over to the door. Peeking out of the peephole, she’s met with a very familiar furrowed brow.

It’s Harry, her next door neighbor. Except, for the first time, he looks more stressed than angry.

She opens the door, a bit embarrassed in her messy painting overalls. She chews on her lip and she stands nervously behind her door, almost as if she’s using it to protect herself. “Hi?” she says timidly, worried about why he might be at her door. Had she done something to make him angry? Was her music too loud or something?

His hair, normally curled atop his head neatly in chocolate colored swirls, now sticks out in every direction as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and his eyes are wide and frantic. “My sister…” he pants, out of breath as if he’d run a mile to get here, “She’s in labor. I-I have to go to see her, could you–,” he pauses to catch his breath, chest rising heavily. “Could you please take care of my bunny while I’m gone?”

She blinks for a second. This man, who’d been so cold and mean to her ever since she moved in, was in front of her door… begging her to take care of his bunny?

“Oh!” This was definitely not what she expected when she opened the door and saw Harry standing there. She thought that he was for sure about to yell at her for something, tell her to turn the music down or blow out her candles because he could smell them from his apartment.

This, however… this she could work with. Maybe it would make him finally come around.

“Yes!” she exclaims, after a second. “Oh my gosh, yes, of course! What do you need me to do?”

His shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, letting out a deep breath. He knows that he hasn’t necessarily been the nicest to her and had been worried that she might tell him to fuck off (rightfully so), but he was desperate, and thankfully… she’s an angel.

He ushers her into his apartment, which (as respectfully as she can put it) looks like a tornado has just passed through it. A pile of unopened mail sits on his kitchen counter, abandoned in his rush to get packed, and what seems to be his dinner sits half eaten on his dinner table, fork thrown onto the table next to his plate with a piece of broccoli still hanging onto it. A lone suitcase sits in the middle of his living room, piled with clothes that aren’t folded – just haphazardly thrown in there. It’s abundantly clear that he’s been frantically rushing around his apartment, trying to pack all his stuff together while also figuring out what to do with Thumper.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes over his shoulder, double checking that she’s still within earshot with how fast he’s running around into his apartment. “I-I wasn’t planning on having to go see her so soon, she’s not due for another three weeks,” he rambles, messily shoving a pant leg into his suitcase as he zips it up. “But then she called, and she’s all alone, and–” he looks up at her with wide, earnest eyes, “I just have to be there for her.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” she says gently. “I totally get it. It’s no problem.”

He stares at her for a second, eyes flickering between hers, a soft look in his eye. It seems like he’s about to say something– but he stops himself. Instead, he walks over to a large bunny playpen, filled with hay and piles of soft blankets and towels.

Sitting atop one of those worn-out blankets is a fluffy white bunny, nibbling softly on a piece of hay. Harry reaches in and gently picks the little bunny up, who fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. “This is Thumper,” Harry introduces softly, his finger gently petting along the little bunny’s back. “Thumper, this is y/n. She’s gonna take care of you while I'm gone.” The little bunny’s nose twitches softly, chewing on his hay mindlessly.

Y/n doesn’t know what she expected from Harry, but it definitely wasn’t this. From all of her interactions with him, he just seemed so cold and mean and intimidating! But watching him pet his little bunny that sits so peacefully in his large, tattooed hands… hearing him talk to this tiny ball of white fur as if it’s a real person… well it just makes Harry look like a bit of a softie, to be honest. It’s a side of her grumpy neighbor that she never could’ve imagined.

“Hi Thumper,” she coos, taking a timid step forward. “You’re just the cutest thing in the world.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Harry says proudly, a soft dimple in his cheek as he smiles down at his bunny that he loves so much.

Passing Thumper over to her, he maneuvers her hands so that the bunny is resting comfortably. “He likes to be held like this,” he instructs, his hands brushing against hers, “On his stomach, so he can look around. Sometimes he gets a bit nervous when he’s too high up from the ground for a long time, so if he starts thumping that just means he wants to be put down again.”

She nods, copying the way he’d been holding Thumper to the best of her ability. The bunny feels so small and fragile in her hold and she’s terrified of hurting him – but Thumper just twitches his nose gently, completely unaffected by whatever is going on around him.

“This is where he sleeps and spends most of his time,” Harry continues, pointing down at the little den of blankets. “But if you can, try to take him outside for at least an hour everyday. I made the balcony bunny proof and there’s a little grassy area out there with all his toys, so just let him hop around there for a bit. Maybe hang out with him if you can, he’s really playful. It’s just really important for his health, to be outside and have some playtime.”

He puts his hands on his hips and stares at his bunny, who seems totally content in y/n’s arms. A weight is lifted off his shoulders, seeing that Thumper feels comfortable in the arms of this half-stranger. It makes him feel a little less guilty for having to leave him so suddenly.

Harry checks the clock. “Shit!” he cries, gathering his bearings once more. His sister lives almost two hours away, so he needs to leave now.

She follows him, Thumper still in his arms, as he scrambles towards the kitchen. “This is his food,” he says, pulling out a bag of leafy, green vegetables – a nice mix of lettuce, kale, cabbage, and parsley – from his fridge. “Give him a bowlful of these veggies twice a day. He’s not on a really strict schedule, just give him some whenever you have breakfast and dinner. And you saw, he has a bunch of hay in his cage too, which he snacks on all day, so it’s okay if you’re a little late.”

He’s running around his apartment, grabbing things and shoving them into his suitcase at the last minute, and calling out instructions to y/n as fast as he can – frantic, stressed out, with absolutely no time to waste. Y/n watches him with wide eyes, absorbing everything he says, while Thumper sits in her arms quietly completely unbothered by Harry’s frantic bustling.

“Um, if he’s being annoying or thumping or anything like that, give him a treat – they’re in this jar – and he’ll probably calm down. I’m pretty generous with the treats ‘cos he’s just such a good bunny, but also he needs to watch his diet, so I’d limit him to like… 10-12 pellets per day.”

He runs to the living room and picks up his suitcase, dragging it to the door frantically while still spewing out instructions. “He loves cuddling, and he’s a really good bunny so you can leave him on the couch or on my bed and he won’t like– chew anything up. And if it gets really cold at night he has a heating pad in his playpen, just put it in the microwave for a minute or two, and he’ll get on top of it if he wants.”

“Here’s my number if you need anything,” he says, scribbling down his phone number onto one of the abandoned pieces of mail sitting on his kitchen counter. “That’s a three, I know it doesn’t look like it, sorry!” He slams the pen down on the counter and runs into his bedroom, then hurries back out with a backpack, filled to the brim with all his toiletries and other essentials. What seems to be his phone charger hangs out of the front pocket, just about ready to pop out and fall to the ground, but he shoves it in and somehow manages to zip up the overstuffed bag.

“Okay,” he sighs, letting out a deep breath. Now that he’s all packed up and ready to go, he lets himself slow down for a second. He takes a look around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, then turns around to face y/n. Thumper looks up at Harry with his cute little eyes.

“Alright bud, I gotta go,” he whispers quietly, petting the bunny’s cheeks. “Be good, okay?” He leans forward and presses a little kiss against Thumper’s forehead, his cheek brushing against y/n’s arm, who still has Thumper coddled to her chest.

“I should be back soon,” he says to y/n, looking at her with gentle eyes. “Thank you again, for taking care of him. I know it’s all last minute.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a smile.

Harry smiles back at her softly. The first time she’s ever seen him look at her with a smile. It makes her heart flutter happily, one step closer to making her neighbor stop hating her.

“Here’s the key to my apartment. I… I’ve got to go now. But text me if anything happens.”

With a final deep breath and a pat on Thumper’s head, Harry heads out the door and runs to the elevator.

And then it’s just y/n and Thumper, alone in Harry’s apartment.

Who would’ve thought.

+++

Y/n doesn’t really have much experience with bunnies… but she imagines that if she were a bunny and her bunny Dad randomly left her with a stranger in the middle of the night, then she’d be a pretty stressed out bunny.

Luckily, Thumper seems pretty relaxed.

After Harry left, she just put him back into his playpen and watched him chew on some hay and relax on his comfy pile of blankets. She warmed up his heating pad, just as Harry instructed, but Thumper didn’t even need it. He just headed to bed like a good little bunny and went through the night peacefully, with only the occasional twitch of his nose and a little scuffle as if he were having a rabbit dream.

Just to be safe, y/n spent the night on Harry’s couch, sleeping right next to Thumper’s little pen just in case he started thumping in the middle of the night and needed some attention. In the morning, she scuttled back to her apartment to make herself a quick breakfast, then hurried back to give Thumper his morning veggies. And in the time that she’d normally spend reading on her own balcony, she instead went out onto Harry’s balcony and watched as Thumper happily hopped around in the grass and played with his little bunny toys.

She runs into very little problems while bunny-sitting for Harry, and actually finds herself particularly fond of this fluffy little creature. But she wonders, even if she has no questions for Harry, should she still send him a text? He left her his number in case she had any questions, but he’d probably wouldn’t mind an update text either? I mean… if she were a Bunny Dad and she had to randomly leave her bunny in the middle of the night, then she’d probably want to know that her bunny was safe and happy!

After much overthinking and lots of nervous pacing around Harry’s kitchen, she decides to send him a text. A simple, “Hi, it’s y/n!” accompanied with a cute picture of Thumper, chomping on some lettuce with his floppy ears hanging cutely and his big eyes glimmering. She then follows it with another text, saying that they just ate some breakfast together and went out on the balcony for some morning playtime.

She throws her phone down after she sends the text, beyond nervous to be sending messages to the grumpy neighbor that had scared her for so long. She jumps when her phone chimes with a message less than a minute later, apologizing to Thumper who gives an annoyed thump, as if he’s telling her to stop being so dramatic.

“How’s he behaving?” reads Harry’s response.

“Like an angel!” she says. “Slept through the night without any thumping and had lots of fun playing in the grass.”

“Good,” he texts back, and she thinks that’s the end of it. But after a minute another message comes through. “Give him an extra treat from me, he deserves it :)”

A smiley face! Who knew grumpy Harry knew how to use smiley faces.

She sends back a picture of Thumper with his treat. And a smiley face for good measure.

+++

Harry comes back home five days later.

He’d managed to make it to the hospital just in time. His sister had been in active labor on her own for about four hours at that point, and spent another four hours in excruciating pain once Harry got there. His mum arrived around 45 minutes after he did, and Miles (his sister’s husband, aka the father of this child), arrived last, only about 30 minutes before she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing.

All of them had scrambled to make it there on time, considering how unexpected and early his sister went into labor. He’s just thankful that Miles and his Mum were there too, so that he wouldn’t have to be the one holding her hand while she pushed (as supportive as he wanted to be, he had to leave the room or else he would’ve passed out).

The baby did come a bit early, but after a few tests the doctors said that she was fine, just a bit smaller than usual! They spent the night in the hospital, just to be safe, and were discharged to go home as a happy little family the next morning.

Harry and his mum stayed with Gemma and Miles in their cozy little for a few days, helping around the house while the new parents rested and recovered. Harry helped with the finishing touches of the nursery and went out shopping for extra diapers and baby toys, while his mom cooked homey meals for her kids and tutted over her new granddaughter.

It was nice for them to be all together again, celebrating the newest addition to their happy family, but after a few days the guilt of being away from Thumper for so long was growing too heavy. His mum promised to stay with Gemma and make sure that she’s recovering well, and with a kiss to his newborn baby niece, he headed back home to his precious baby bunny.

He unlocks his door, dragging his suitcase in behind him, and faintly hears a soft, sweet voice from inside. He abandons his suitcase and tiptoes closer and closer to the voice. He finds y/n, out on his balcony with Thumper.

“You are so cute!” she says to Thumper, sitting on her knees and rolling a little ball towards him, which Thumper nudges back with his nose. “I wish I could give you another treat, but your Dad said not to give you too many… I dunno though, should we break the rules a little bit? One extra treat since you’re being such a good bunny?”

Thumper’s nose twitches excitedly, as if he knows that she’s about to reward him with another treat, and Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. This scene – y/n, talking to his little bunny as if he’s a real person, coddling him and giving him treats – it’s a bit endearing. He tries to stop the soft smile growing on his face, to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his tummy… but he can’t help it. He’s endeared.

He tries to casually lean against his couch and watch the scene for a few more moments, but he accidentally knocks a pen off of his coffee table, making y/n yelp and turn around. “Oh!” she bubbles, “Hi Harry!”

He straightens himself out and clears his throat, wiping the silly smile off his face and trying to come off as neutral as possible. “Hello,” he says, with a polite nod of his head.

“How was your sister? Did you have a nice trip?” “Y-yeah it was good, thanks,” he twists his hands nervously behind his back. “She had a little baby girl. Healthy and happy. It was really nice.”

Y/n’s eyes round out, a soft glimmer in them. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.”

He ignores the fluttering in his stomach, and wipes away the nervous sweat of his hands onto his pants. “Um– How was Thumper?”

“A right angel!” she exclaims, picking Thumper up and handing him over to Harry. “Wish I could steal him from you. If you ever need me to watch him again, don’t be afraid to ask, I loved hanging out with him.”

Harry can’t help the dimple that pops out on his cheek, blushing slightly at her kind words and pretty smile. “I– Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“No worries, honestly! Just don’t be a stranger,” she says, a playful glimmer in her eye.

+++

The next morning, sitting on her balcony with her mug in hand, she watches anxiously as Harry steps out of his apartment with his watering can.

Would things go back to normal, with him ignoring her and hating her and pretending she doesn’t exist? Or… has he finally come around?

She holds her breath as he slides his balcony open. He looks at her. She looks at him.

He breaks a smile. “Good morning,” he says, dimple in cheek.

She exhales.

“Good morning, Harry,” she responds with a grin.

+++

Y/n hates thunderstorms.

She hates the sound of thunder, hates how loud and unexpected it is. Hates how her entire body trembles when thunder crashes outside her window, hates how she can feel it shake her apartment. And lightning… don’t even get her started on lightning! She has a recurring nightmare that she’s sound asleep, only to be woken up by electrocution ‘cos the lightning bolt decided her bed was the perfect place to land.

Now, when she lived in her old apartment, she was lucky enough to have amazing roommates who would comfort her during really bad storms. She could sit and talk with Sameera until the storm passed, watch a movie with Savanna to block out the sounds of thunder. Sometimes, if the storm was really bad, Nia would even cuddle y/n to sleep so that she’d calm down. Y/n would bury herself in her roommate’s loving arms, hiding her face in Nia’s chest as she willed away the anxiety attacks and tried not to cry every time she felt the rumbling thunder outside.

Now that she lives on her own, however, she has nobody to comfort her.

She thought it’d be fine, told herself that she’s far too grown to still be hiding in her closet whenever it rained a little bit outside! So she climbed into her bed, snuggled herself under her blankets, and turned on a movie, ignoring the storm outside to the best of her ability. With her pretty fairy lights turned on, her favorite movie playing (Pride and Prejudice 2005), and her headphones blocking out all the thunder, she was 100% confident that she’d be able to get through the night all on her own!

That is… until the power went out.

Her movie paused, her heater went silent, and her fairy lights suddenly turned off. She tried to turn on the main light in her room, but the light switch flicked on and off with no effect. Same with her desk lamp, and the light in her bathroom. Everything was pitch black.

Sitting in the dark, with only flashes of lightning to illuminate her room… it was terrifying for y/n.

She scrambled to turn on the flashlight on her phone, and felt her heart drop when she saw that she was only at 9%. How was she going to survive the night without her phone? She rushes around, trying to see if she has any extra flashlights or candles… but her emergency flashlight has no batteries, and although she has a wide variety of candles to choose from… she has no matches in her new apartment.

She’s thoroughly fucked.

A bolt of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crash of thunder that makes y/n yelp and fall to the floor. She’s on the verge of tears, with nowhere to turn and nothing to comfort her… when she gets a text.

Harry: Everything alright in your apartment?

Her hands tremble as she types out a response.

Not really :( she responds. trying to find a flashlight or something but im having no luck and my phones gonna die soon :(

Another rumble of thunder shakes her apartment. She closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing with shaky inhales and whimpery exhales.

Harry responds a minute later.

Do you want to come over to mine?

+++

PART 2 IS ALREADY POSTED ON PATREON :) HOPE U LOVE EM!!!!

#harry styles fic #harry fic #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry writing #harry blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shots #harry one shot #grumpy!harry #mean!harry #meanrry #grumpyrry

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escherbug · 1 year

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YEAR OF THE GRUB: JANUARY

Project: Needle Felting with Wire Armature

CRAFT STORE RUNS: 2

(The sleepy but patient Lt. for scale)

This year I started a Master's Degree program in Entomology. I wanted to make sure I was still making fun things while I'm so busy (mostly reading papers and books), so I arranged a set of media-based projects centered around my favorite insect (scarab grubs), trying to complete the project by the end of the month.

I didn't quite make it this time because I ran out of supplies a couple times and made the project a good deal harder for myself than I thought, but I think that's okay. This is just for me, after all.

STEP BY STEP:

First, I used sculpting wire and a pair of pliers to twist the skeleton of the grub. I wanted to be able to move all the legs and the main line of the body. I thought I'd be able to get an easier anchor in on the felt if I covered the hard wires with pipe cleaners, but I was pretty much wrong about that.

Next, I felted a bunch of spare roving into the general shape I wanted, and felted the head and the back end of the grub on in brown. I also hand-sewed six little socks to cover the wires on the legs and secured them as well as I could to the rest of the body so they won't fall off at random. This came out messier than I'd have liked, but I think also that I should cut myself some slack for having designed and patterned most of this on the fly.

Next came felting on the bulk of the fatty, cream colored body of the grub. Part of the reason I didn't end up making my deadline was that I ran out of white/off-white wool roving, and was unable to find it in stock at any stores, so I had to order it online and wait for it to arrive in the mail (it absolutely did and honestly, the new stuff from Shepswool.com is way softer than the wool I was using and a softer color, so it was well worth the wait).

From here, mainly all that was left was detail work. I didn't get a ton of photos of this because all these steps ended up being my Sunday (day of posting), but I used a finer wire, the same pliers, and super sculpey to make gently posable antennae, mandibles, a clypeus and labrum (as well as a pair of maxillae that absolutely did not show up in the end, just much too small), baked the clay on the wires and then affixed them to the existing framework I'd set up on the head for most of the face. The mandibles are attached to the antennae, so they move together, and the clypeus/labrum and maxillae are held on by the wires supporting the mandibles. I also glued on some cute little eyes that came standard with my felting gear.

All that was left at this point was final detail work-- I didn't feel like embroidering on a ton of hairs in the end, but I embroidered on some spiracles and felted those little sclerotized buts near the head.

And voila! A needle-felted beetle grub about the size of a small ferret. Wouldn't it be nice if we had more grubs around this size?

Further notes:

1) it's nice to be making something big enough for once while felting that I didn't stab my fingers constantly! I only stabbed myself like twice.

2) I bought a multi-needle felting tool for this, but I didn't really find it helped much beyond having a safety cover. It was also super noisy to work with, so I ended up going back to using a single felting needle halfway through.

Catch you at the end of this month, hopefully having completed my February project: WATERCOLOR ILLUSTRATION!

#i get excited about bugs #year of the grub #YEAR OF THE GRUB 2023 #escherbug art #needle felting #felting #soft sculpture #beetle #coleoptera #scarabaeidae

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thechaoticplayer · 4 months

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Grinding on him 🔞

Author's note: Shu Yamino brainrot go brrrr.... this is just fucking filth, absolute filth. Might be slightly ooc dude I spent like hours on this shit lord help me

Summary: Your boyfriend is streaming and you're sitting on his leg. Rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he played, and your thoughts begin to wander down a... naughty path....

Contains: grinding, overstimulation/edging, the sorcerer plays with your pussy while HES LIVE, praising/degrading, Dom Shu and all that juicy shit

DNI or not idgaf 💥 Shu Yamino x f!reader

You can hear your boyfriend's voice from the other side of the wall of your room. Is it strange that you were pressed up against the wall for the duration of Shu's stream, listening to every word he said? You suppose you were just madly in love with the Sorcerer. (No, more like you were utterly infatuated with him.)

"...put this here and you'll- oh! I got it!" Shu exclaims, excitement in his tone. You smile at his exclamation and suppress a giggle. Suddenly, you really wished you were in the same room as him. He wouldn't mind if you snuck in and just chilled with him, right?

In your favorite colored socks, you slid out your room and in front of Shu's door. Wrapping your hand around the knob cautiously, you slowly turn it. You open the door just a crack, peering inside to see the computer illuminate the room. With his headphones on, he didn't hear you approach behind him with tippy toes.

You bite your lip, hiding a grin. You reach out towards Shu's ear, tickling the shell of his ear with a brush of your fingertips. He absent-mindedly itches it and you smile. You decide to watch him for a few minutes.

"How long are you going to stare and not say anything?" Shu says out of the blue, and you see from the reflection of his PC a small smirk.

You blink. "How long did you know I was here?"

"Since you walked in."

You chuckle, leaning down to his left. He glances at you for a second before returning his gaze to the screen. "Yeah guys, it's my girlfriend. She came to visit."

"Hey everyone!" You wave at the screen with a laugh. "Just coming to check on my beloved Shu."

Shu's lips quirk up. "You're so sweet."

His attention goes back to the game and you just stand there, a bit awkwardly honestly. He talks about the game or responds to chat. You drop to your knees, ducking underneath Shu's arm and crawling into his lap, facing the screen, with a huff.

"Babe," Shu mumbles as you turn your head and start burying your face into his neck. "Is something wrong?"

"Mmno," you hum, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. You can feel the skin heat up from the contact.

"Alright," he murmurs, one hand off the keyboard now to rub circles onto your inner thigh. You practically purr from the touch, continuing to kiss down his neck affectionately.

Shu continues his live, playing his video game and interacting with his viewers who were screaming and being absolute insane shippers in the chat. It seemed so domestic. A little too domestic. Too much of a cuddly atmosphere for your taste at the moment.

An idea pops into your head and you smirk against his skin. Let's see good Shu is with multi-tasking, hmm? how focused he can be without breaking...

You wiggle around, casually rubbing your ass against his crotch. You hear a small grunt from the sorcerer, but he says nothing. You kiss his jawline, nipping at his ear with a giggle.

"What are you-?"

You kiss him abruptly, cutting off what his question. You take his chin in your fingertips, turning his face towards you as squirm around your adored seat. You bite his lip gently and press your ass down hard onto his crotch. He gasps and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside his mouth.

The chat were confused, asking if Shu's model had froze. Little did they know he was trapped in a heated make-out session and he quietly groaned into the kiss. You could feel his growing erection underneath his pants and you smirk against the kiss.

Shu broke away quickly, breathing heavily with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips. "S-sorry guys, is it fixed now?" You roll your eyes playfully, catching the slight stutter and continuing to slowly grind yourself onto him. His breath hitches and you see in the corner of your eye he briefly closed his eyes.

"I'm fine, just a bit... thirsty." He adjusts himself, leaning forward so your back is pressed against his back. He whispers in your ear, "I'm streaming live, you do realize that right? do you know you can get us in trouble with your... shenanigans?"

Your fingers trails down his jaw and you smile. "That's if they catch us, right?"

His eyes darken noticeably, and he leans back in his seat. "That's what you want?"

You shrug. "Maybe, maybe not."

God, you were acting like such a fucking brat! He has to put his foot down. Shu wasn't going to let you make a mess of him in front of his viewers, nonono. Don't get it twisted, darling.

His hand slithering across your leg, Shu continues playing as if nothing happened. You shift once in a while and he had to repress a groan. Feeling the plush of your ass against his cock made him go crazy because he wasn't able to turn you around and fuck you like a animal in heat yet. Instead, he had to drag this out and make you suffer along with him.

Shu slips his hand past the waistband of the pants you were wearing and your breath (expectantly) catches. Shu chuckles low under his breath, going lower and lower before going back up again, running his nails across your stomach. This causes shivers up your spine and you wiggle impatiently.

His other hand grasps your waist, keeping you from moving. He squeezes, a way of telling you to keep still. You still, and his hand slides back down to your panties. Shu rubs small circles around your clit, and you can't help but raise your hips to chase after his touch.

But Shu instantly slaps your pussy. Hard. You almost gasp loudly but you slap your hands over your mouth. Shu goes back to rubbing your clit through the cloth, muttering quietly in your ear,

"Make a single noise and I stop. Do you understand?" You nod silently. "Good girl."

As a reward, a digit slips under the panties as massages your pussy. You bite your lip as he traces the area around the bundle of nerves that is quivering with excitement. He pinches and it takes all of your will to not whimper. Shu hums in his throat, his skilled fingers finding your clitoris quite easily. He rubs it painfully slow, enjoying the way your legs twitch. Enjoying the feel of your slick coating his fingers. How wet you are for him.

Shu lifts his fingers to his lips, licking and nearly groaning at the taste. You taste so well on his fingers. You watch him closely, squeezing your legs together and rubbing for friction. He grabs one leg and forces it open, glaring at you with lustful eyes. You make a small noise and swallow.

His hand finds your pussy once more, but this time slides a finger in. You nearly moan but you keep it inside. The sorcerer's finger dives deep inside, pumping in and out at a slow pace before shoving another finger in. His thumb traces circles on your clit and it's getting really hard not to let out noises that you're desperately trying to force inside.

The squelching of your pussy is slightly audible, but not loud enough for the audience to hear thankfully. Shu continues on, saying a couple of things here and there while biting your neck and leaving purplish-red marks behind. His fingers brush against the soft spot, the spot that makes you see stars when Shu's cock hits it just right. He curls and pumps and teases, getting you nearer and nearer to your release but never allowing you to cum.

Just as you thought he was going to finally let you cum, he stops suddenly, exclaiming about something he had just achieved. You whine, not even caring if they hear you or not.

Shu's gaze fixes itself on you and you immediately know you fucked up. He pulls his fingers away and licks them clean with no care in the world.

"What did I tell you?" Shu whispers quietly, a predatory look on his face.

You gulp. "I'm s-sorry-"

Shu stands up suddenly, causing a yelp out of you as fall forward and catch yourself, hands on the desk and your ass right up against his hard-on.

Shu curses, his hand on his headset. "Hey guys, I'm afraid I have to end the stream early today, something just happened but it'll be alright, don't worry! I'll make it up to you, Yaminions!"

He ends stream. You turn your head to look behind you. A shudder.

The sorcerer yanks your pants down, the chilled air making goosebumps form across your naked rear. He shoves his own down and his erection springs free from its confines, slapping your ass. But you can't help but feel excited for what was about to occur.

"You think this is going to go well for you?" Shu laughs darkly, his tip sliding past your folds and collecting the slick all over. He asks. "I'm going to fuck you till you pass out, you needy slut..."

"Please please!" You push back against him, and you almost felt his tip slip inside your sopping hole.

"Not so fast." His dick glides across your pussy, bumping your clit and making you whimper. A hand presses into your back, forcing you flat on the desk. Your breasts uncomfortably smushed against his keyboard and you wriggle in his grasp.

"You need to be taught a lesson, yeah?" Finally, Shu shoves his cock into you, ripping a moan out of you. He thrusts hard into you and your walls almost clamp around him. He did edge you, and you were nearly there yet again. Dragging his dick in and out of your walls slowly again and you nearly groan out of frustration. "Maybe I should edge you until you break? or should I overstimulate you until you beg me to stop?" Shu pauses to think. "The latter sounds a tad better..."

Now, with your tits flush against his keyboard, Shu rams himself into you harshly and you cum instantaneously with a loud as fuck moan. But he doesn't stop, he keeps going, harder, faster, nails digging into your waist as he pushes himself into you. With each thrust, the sorcerer seems to enter deeper and deeper, kissing that spot over and over again without fail.

"S-Shu! S-stop!" You plead, the overstimulation causing your legs to shake as your cum drips down your legs.

"Not until. im done," Shu growls, rutting into you with startling ferocity. Your walls clamp around him again, signaling you were going to cum again. He groans. "Fuck, you feel so good. Taking me like the good girl you are."

You dig into the desk, moving backward and forward as the desk repeatedly hits the wall from Shu's harsh thrusts. Tears swell in your eyes, cheeks burning and your pussy feeling as if it were on fire. Lewd noises of your wetness squelching, the intimate sound of skin slapping against each other echoes through the room. You already came three times already, while Shu only came once and showed no signs of stopping.

"Good girl, tell me, what's in this pussy of yours?" He snakes a hand around your waist, playing with you clit once more.

"N-ngh! You- your-" A moan interrupts your sentence, tears spilling down your face as you tried to scramble away from the sensation. But Shu's hold on you is too strong, especially with you beginning to weaken further.

"My what?"

"Your cock! I-i-in me!" You babble incoherently, mind turning into mush as drool falls down from your lips. "Feel so good- mm!"

"I'm the only one who makes you feel this good, yeah? Good girl, doing so well for me, m-mmhm..."

Spilling his loads into you yet again, he pauses, breathing heavy, hair clinging to his face.

"Just... one more round..."

#Shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #Shu yamino smut #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #nijien #nijisanji smut #Vtuber #vtuber smut #luxiem

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pucksrph · 1 year

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𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌. 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎

here is a small collection of tiny detail questions to ask about someone’s muse, some questions have multiple parts! feel free to add/change as you see fit <3 potentially nsfw. if a multi, please specify the muse!!

how long are their nails? do they paint them?

what is their hair texture? do they take good care of it, if they have any?

what are their favorite fabrics? least favorite?

what is their skin texture?

do they have a skincare routine? if yes, how involved is it?

what does their sweat smell like?

body hair; do they crop anything short? let it grow naturally? wax?

name two or more things your muse can’t leave the house without.

does your muse usually carry around a bag/purse/backpack? or do they prefer to keep only what they can fit in their pockets?

do they get hay fever? if so, how bad?

do they have any sensitivities to smells?

do they have any sensitivities to tastes?

do they have any sensitivities to textures?

is there a sound that drives them crazy? ( like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, styrofoam rubbing together, cardboard boxes, etc?)

what is their favorite genre of music?

what is their favorite flavor in food?

what is their favorite scent? (candles, perfume, food, etc.)

what household chore do they absolutely hate doing?

what household chore do they like doing?

do they have a “comfort outfit” or a go to look? if so, why did they choose those pieces?

in a relationship, are they the ones stealing their partners' clothing? or are they the ones having their clothes stolen?

do they have bumper stickers on their car? if so, what kind? (bonus points for pictures!)

do they have a comfort movie? book? tv show?

if forced to wear socks, what kind do they prefer? ( ankle? crew cut? patterned? plain? )

what do they do when they are deep in thought? ( bite their nails? twirl a strand of hair? lick their lips? just look off to the side? nothing too exciting because this is a highly specific question? lol )

what is their favorite snack food?

what do their hair care products smell like?

how dedicated are they to their favorite color? must everything they own be that color? do they even care that much?

what does their perfume smell like, and how much do they put on?

do they prefer the overhead lights on in their house? or are they an ambient lighting/holiday lights around the house kinda person?

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faerieriddle · 1 year

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Eddie: “oh no, he’s hot”

Steve: *wearing cut off jorts, sandels with socks, a strip of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose, and messy multi-colored nails curtesy of El and Max*

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie #stranger things #eddie is a simp for single dad steve

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malestarssockedfeet · 6 months

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#Brian J. Alvarez #Socks #Gray and Black Socks #Polka Dot Socks #Jonathan Groff #Multi Colored Socks #Novelty Socks

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year

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A Million Reasons - Four

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: More tension, angry faceoff between men 😤

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: I am very excited for what comes after this one ;)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was pouring today, and while that was a bit unseasonal for New Haven in the fall, you weren’t going to complain. Rain meant the holes in the roof of your greenhouse became a problem, and a noticeable problem meant money from your department—something you never seemed to have enough of. It also meant your greenhouse was currently being occupied by roofers.

Which also meant that Bucky had to follow you around the gardening store to fulfill his hours for the day. And Bucky at the gardening store had a lot to say, unfortunately.

“You need one of these things?” he asked, holding up a multi-colored pinwheel and flicking his finger against the flimsy paper.

You raised a brow, dropping another pot into the cart. “That wouldn’t even work in the greenhouse. No wind.”

He leaned his forearms on the handle of the cart. “I could just like, blow on it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, might be fun. Add some color to that dark dungeon.”

“It’s not a dungeon!” you scoffed, yanking the pinwheel from his fingers. “It’s nice in there. And I don’t have the funds for a toy, anyways.”

Bucky plucked the offending item from your hands once more, examining the price tag with narrowed eyes. You leaned your hip against the cart with a small huff and pretended to be annoyed by his antics, but that was getting harder to do; after the night in his car a few days ago, your dynamic had… changed.

Actions that once would have irked you now had you rolling your eyes, but not out of irritation. Bucky would knock over his stool and the sheepish grin on his face would be endearing instead of enraging. His excessive clothes were starting to grow on you, especially when he would leave the greenhouse with speckles of dirt dotting his sleeves or his socks—because that was another thing: him insisting on helping.

It was mostly the hard things. He would hop up from his seat when you would heave a soil bag out of storage, and scold you when you tried to carry too much at once. He never tried to plant or measure or count seeds, but the second you looked like you were struggling he was suddenly very on board with community service.

And it was nice having some strength around the greenhouse, but the touching that came along with the help was maddening. An almost stuttering, losing your breath kind of maddening.

“Here, I can carry that one,” would come right before a hand on the small of your back.

“I swear, you’re trying to hurt yourself,” and then a tug on your sweater when you nearly toppled over a pile of empty bags.

“You know I got two hands that work, right? You can ask for help sometimes,” followed by a squeeze at your shoulder. That one felt more personal and was definitely the reason you struggled to speak for the remainder of the day.

You had no idea if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just getting comfortable with you, but it was making it hard to parse out your feelings. With every small touch and lighthearted joke you were left trying to remember why you were so conflicted inside. Bucky was annoying and spoiled and full of himself, but he was also sweet and charming and he cared about the people close to him. There was no reason to feel so guilty each time your chest fluttered at his laugh; he wasn’t the asshole you thought he was.

But then his phone would ring, and you would remember.

The phone calls from his friends made him sound douchey and very much like the trust fund baby you hated, but you could handle those calls—they were short and Bucky always smiled at you like you were in on some secret joke as he taunted his friends over the line.

It was the calls from her that made you remember.

Bucky would answer with her name, a light “Serena, hey,” spoken into the receiver before he turned to take the call outside. And you always felt stupid—god, did you feel stupid—because whoever Serena was, she definitely wasn’t you.

The rumors surrounding Bucky’s engagement were plentiful and every source was conflicting, but they all seemed to agree on a few things: his suspected fiancee was loaded, he was loaded, and their parents wanted them together more than anything. He never spoke to about her, and he never gave any indication that he was actually engaged, but there were rumors. And rumors often came from truth.

So, the phone calls from her reminded you why you were so against the new feelings taking up space under your skin. They were each a small wake up call, a whisper in your ear that you would never be enough for someone like Bucky. Not that that was a particularly new feeling for you.

Even still, despite your reservations, you had developed this small, budding friendship with Bucky, and there was nothing you could do to fend it off. Especially when he had to spend multiple hours with you per week.

Hence the pinwheel he was examining in the fluorescent light of the gardening store.

“Wait,” Bucky drawled, throwing you out of your thoughts. “This is only $2.99. I thought it was going to be, like, twenty.”

You took a moment, shutting your eyes and blinking them back open in disbelief. “You thought… you thought that thing was going to be twenty dollars?”

“Are they usually more?”

He looked up at you with such sincerity you had to press your lips together to stop the laugh from bursting out of you.

“Bucky,” you began, a small, incredulous smile still making its way onto your face. “It’s made out of paper and plastic and not even a foot long. Unless something’s happened to the U.S. dollar that I don’t know about, a pinwheel for a potted plant is never twenty dollars.”

Bucky blinked, then blinked again. His mouth fell open and he tossed the small decoration back on the shelf without breaking eye contact with you. His shocked expression slowly formed into a smile of his own, and you were suddenly very worried about the impact this price revelation was having on Bucky Barnes.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, drawing out the syllables of each word as his joy seemed to grow. “Holy shit. If I’d known all it would take is me acting like an out of touch idiot, I woulda done that a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, eyes darting around him in confusion.

Bucky only smiled wider, pushing off the handle of the cart. “You called me Bucky. You’ve never called me that before.”

“What—that’s not true. I call you Bucky all the time. You asked me to.”

You distinctly remembered the “hey, call me Bucky, yeah? James is my father,” from his first day in the greenhouse. You must have called him Bucky since then, right? It’s not as if you had been making a conscious effort not to.

But Bucky was shaking his head at your statement, rounding the cart with some sort of gleam in his eye. “Nope, you’ve never. You mostly stick to Barnes, which is better than James, I guess. But never Bucky. Figured you were tryna keep me at arm’s length, but now…”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” you were quick to correct. “You’re still at arm’s length. Actually, now that you’re being weird you’re at two arm’s lengths.”

“Am I? Doesn’t really seem like I am.”

“And how to do you figure that? Just because I said your name?”

Bucky’s brow quirked up. “No, because… well, because this looks like it’s only about half.”

He lifted his arm between you, his palm coming down to rest on your shoulder. His elbow was obviously bent, further proving that he was only half an arm’s length from you. That snarky asshole.

You opened your mouth to quip something back, but he beat you to it.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses, y/n, I stand this close to you all the time. If you wanted two arm’s length, you coulda just…” He trailed his hand down to your elbow, tugging it forward to get better leverage as he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Pushed me.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the heavy thrumming in your ears completely drowning out the rest of the nearly empty garden store. Bucky’s words were spoken into the inch of space between you, but you could feel them on your skin—burning, damning you to this weird feeling trickling along the edges of your chest.

You hated it. You wanted it to go away so your head would stop feeling so foggy, but at the same time you reveled in it like a new elation you could never stop chasing. It was odd to feel so conflicted about something; your entire life you knew exactly what you wanted and there was never any question. But now, with Bucky, a variable in your life didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense.

And to make matters worse, his breath was now tickling your skin in short puffs. Laughing—he was laughing, and you, once again, felt like an idiot.

“God, you’re such an ass,” you groaned, pushing at his chest and sending him stumbling back. “I don’t think ‘invading my personal space’ is on your designated task list.”

A few lingering chuckles left him, a small smile playing at his mouth as he replied with, “I don’t even know what would be on that task list. Making sure you don’t die in that deathtrap you call a greenhouse? Sitting on a stool until my back hurts?”

“Keep this up and I’ll actually find that task list and we can both learn what you're supposed to be doing all day.”

“Aw, c’mon, y/n,” Bucky drawled, invading your space once again to tuck your hair behind your ear. You knocked his hand away just as quickly. “I know you like hanging out with me. I see that little face you make every time I almost make you laugh.”

“I do not make a face.”

“You make a face.”

“I literally have never made a face in my entire life.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, leaning against the table to his right housing a plethora of succulents. “Look, you want me to describe the face, I’ll describe the face… your mouth twists up to the side and then you bite your lip—”

“I don’t do that.”

“—like you’re definitely trying not to let out that little laugh I only get when I’ve really said something really funny.”

“You never say anything funny.”

“And then you close your eyes like you’re meditating and tap your fingers against the table and thats when I think, ‘oh man, here it comes’—”

You swiped the pinwheel from the shelf Bucky left it on and flung it at him, the thin paper bouncing off his forehead and falling to the ground beside his ridiculous Italian leather dress shoes. The juxtaposition was truly a sight to behold, the poorly made toy propped up by a material worth more than your monthly grocery bill.

You looked back up at Bucky when another moment passed, only to find him staring at the ground as you had been, effectively silenced. His brows shot up as he leaned down, plucking the plastic handle from the floor and pointing the multi-colored paper at you in accusation.

“Just for that, we’re getting this,” he finalized, dropping it into the cart and fixing the collar of his coat as he went.

“No, no,” you argued, leaning over the grated rim of the basket. “You deserved that. We’ve been here for what, an hour? And you’ve already made fun of me about three times.”

“Made fun of—y/n, I wasn’t making fun of you!”

“Yeah, uh huh.”

Bucky shook the cart, his gaze softening when your attention finally shot back up to him. “Hey, I wasn’t, alright? Swear it.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to feel affected by the way Bucky’s gentle eyes fought for your understanding. He titled his head down a smidge, the weird lighting in the greenhouse casting shadows over his face, and you gripped the metal cart harder.

This would have been easier if he was making fun of you.

“Okay, well, we’re still not getting the pinwheel.”

All sincerity vanished from Bucky’s face, replaced instead by incredulity. “What! Why? It’s not even expensive.”

“Bucky—” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened at the sound of his own name. Just a fraction, but it was still there. “I need every last penny the department gives me. I’m not exactly rolling in money over here.”

“Wait… you were serious about that? I thought you were just trying to get me to put this thing back.”

You leaned back, fingers laced through the metal of the cart. “Nope, I’m on scholarship. No family with any university pull and no trust fund to back any donations. I’m lucky if they give me enough for the bare minimum.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Bucky argued, pressing into the cart as he trailed after you down the aisle. “Yale’s loaded. It’s a private university—they have more than enough money for your project.”

“Oh, they have the money. They just don’t want to give it to me.”

Bucky tsked, his shoes scuffing the worn pavement of the store as he went. This was obviously a tough concept for him to grasp, but as you smoothed out the crumpled shopping list from your pocket, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. Maybe a little annoyed at the opportunities Bucky was surely wasting—the chances you would never be given—but not angry.

He seemed to be angry enough for the both of you, actually, his low grumbles of disapproval each time you checked a price tag filtering over the staticky pop music from the store speakers.

You made a few comments when he tossed things into the cart—some pots that weren’t a cheap, dull brown and more small things made to stick in soil and look pretty—but he brushed you off with an eye roll each time.

“They’re for my mom, you stickler. I’ll pay for them. Is that allowed?”

“Your mom gardens?”

“Of course she does. What else would she do at the Hampton house?”

The lopsided shopping cart rounded the last corner of the garden store when Bucky finally decided he had grabbed enough. He was standing close to you, his elbow brushing your arm each time he stepped, and you had done a fine job pretending to ignore him for the last few minutes. You hadn’t been, of course, but you enjoyed the way your name sounded each time he made sure of that.

His head would tilt, his brows would raise, and then he would shake the cart a little and huff as if paying attention to him was your sole purpose in life. Truly, he was acting like a child, and maybe you would’ve been more upset about that if your shopping cart wasn’t almost filled to the brim with items for his “mother”. Because you were pretty sure he didn’t have a home in the Hamptons; his family seemed more like winter people.

It wasn’t until the dreary checkout lanes came into view that you realized you had enjoyed an entire afternoon with Bucky. And that he had stayed with you far past his allotted volunteer hours. Neither of you commented on that.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?” he asked as he helped you unload the cart onto the conveyor belt. “You work in the greenhouse on the weekends?”

You threw him a teasing look. “Why? You want to spend your precious Saturday holed up in my dungeon?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe—”

“Y/n?”

Peter’s voice was unexpected and made you feel exposed, somehow. You whipped around in line to find him, your back brushing Bucky’s chest and his hand skimming your arm at your sudden movement. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and you didn’t fight the contact.

“Peter,” you breathed. “You didn’t tell me you were shopping today.”

Peter’s eye flickered down to your wrist so quickly you almost missed it. “I just needed some last minute things.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s…nice. It’s not too busy today. Good for shopping.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

Your chest felt unbelievably tight as you stood flush against Bucky. Guilt was gnawing at you, but you couldn’t place it’s reason or purpose. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were here for school with the guy forced to help you.

But Peter was looking at you like he was hurt, and you couldn’t begin to understand why.

You pulled out of Bucky’s grip and took a step forward. “Um, we were just finishing up here. But I’ll see you later, right? For movie night?”

“Guess if you’re not too busy,” Peter shrugged, his words holding an uncharacteristic bite to them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” he replied. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look a little too busy for your friends.”

A shoe clicked behind you, following the uncomfortable breath that left your lungs. Your eyes were trailing a path along the candy and gum stocked by the register as you made any attempt not to meet Peter’s scrutinizing gaze. Heat assaulted your face when Bucky’s presence loomed at your back once more.

“There a problem, Parker?” Bucky asked haughtily.

You turned your head so fast the beginnings of whiplash crept up your neck. “You know Peter?”

Bucky didn’t look down at you, his eyes still fixed on your friend. “We’re acquainted.”

“Unfortunately,” Peter spat.

You whirled back around. The room was starting to spin with all of this back and forth. “Whoa, Pete.”

“Oh, fuck off, Parker,” Bucky called.

“Bucky!” you exasperated.

Peter cut in again. “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

“What the hell is going on right now?” you huffed, arms raised in alarmed confusion. “Seriously, this is a plant store. You guys are fighting next to literal lima beans.”

Bucky let out a deep, angry breath that you felt along the back of your head. You didn’t have to look up at him to know that his jaw was clenched and his eyes were steely. Peter gave off a similar vibe with his arms crossed stiffly across his chest.

“Whatever, I don't have time for this bullshit,” Bucky finally scoffed. He dug around in his pocket before spinning on his heel and slapping a credit card down by the register. “Here.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to—”

“I gotta run, Daisy.” That was all he cut you off with, one final glare thrown over your shoulder when the receipt spit out of the machine and onto the floor. He didn’t try to pick it up, instead sauntering out of the store and leaving you with an uncomfortable store employee and very angry Peter.

You reached down to swipe the paper from the floor and gave Peter a baffled look. “What was that all about?” But Peter was still watching the door as it swung shut behind Bucky. You waved your hand in front of his face. “Dude?”

Eyes reluctantly met yours. “What, so you’re hanging out with him now?” he asked.

“No?” you replied. “This was part of his volunteer hours. There are roofers at the greenhouse so we couldn’t stay there.” You hadn’t told Peter about the late night escapade Bucky took you on a few days ago, and based on his reaction to seeing the man simply in your vicinity, you weren’t about to start spilling the details.

Peter scoffed. “Right. And do the terms of his community service include him paying for your supplies?”

The receipt in your hand crumpled. “He didn’t—I didn’t ask for him to—”

“Save it, y/n. I get it… rich guy comes in and starts paying for things and suddenly we forget he’s an asshole.”

Your gut twisted. “That is not fair. You know I’m not like that.”

“I thought I knew that. Now I’m not so sure.”

The guilt you felt morphed into anger. Your face was tight with frustration and confusion and it burned with the embarrassment of such a public confrontation. “I can’t believe you… you’re acting worse than him right now.”

“There it is,” Peter scoffed. He dropped his basket by the magazine racks, abandoning it with the shake of his head. “Just don’t come crying to me when he acts the way he acts.”

“He’s doing community service! Why do you have such a problem with him?”

“Why don’t you? When this whole thing started you had nothing good to say about him.”

The cashier cleared her throat from behind you. The sound startled you and you turned to find all of your items neatly bagged with an unnecessary delicacy. It was clear the girl had taken her time placing each pot in its place, and you couldn’t really blame her for trying to fill time and avoid the harsh conversation in her check out line.

You blinked at her, trying to convey an apology as you reached for the paper bags. With a final sigh you turned to Peter once more. He still stood stony and unexpressive.

“When you’re done acting like… this.” You motioned to his figure. “Call me. I’d love some answers, Peter. And maybe an apology.”

You stomped out of the store, mimicking Bucky’s earlier departure with much less grace. Hot anger and irate frustration still grated at you as you stepped into the cool air of the parking lot. The emotions smashed together in your head and left you feeling like a sharp edge in an otherwise soft day.

You still had no idea how Bucky and Peter knew each other, and you knew even less about the reasons why they were at each other's throats. And to add to that, you knew far less about why Peter was using you as a punching bag. You had spoken to the guy yesterday and he was sweeter than ever—inviting you and your roommates to his apartment for movies and dinner.

Now, you were almost positive the invitation had been rescinded. For whatever reason.

But if Peter wanted to be cryptic and rude, that was fine. You had other things to do. Like redecorating a greenhouse.

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