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writingsfromhome · 6 months

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Impossibly Real

A/N: cute little story about being in a rough dating world and having a nice neighbour friend.

Part 2

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I memorize the face on my phone whilst standing in the middle of my building lobby. I study it as if I hadn’t been staring at his pictures since we both swiped right a couple weeks ago.

“Hot date?” A voice calls out. I look up to the source—one of my neighbours with takeaway in one hand and a case of beer in the other. The smell of his dinner makes my stomach rumble—I’d skipped dinner myself for this 8pm date.

“A very hot date,” I respond. Harry was one of the first people I’d interacted with when I moved to this complex a year and a half ago. He’d helped me move my boxed mattress in and I thanked him with a lukewarm beer. Ever since, we’d pick up on conversation every time we saw each other.

Most of those times were when we’d both be rushing out to work in the morning. Sometimes he’d walk to the tube with me, both of us going in opposite directions. Other times his girlfriend would pick him up.

“Let’s see,” he switches his beer to the other hand and holds his hand out.

I pretend to open the app and look for my date’s profile as if it hadn’t been open for the last three hours. He makes a sound of approval when I pass it over.

“Right?” I grin as he scans the profile.

I wasn’t always lucky in love. When Harry first met me I was fresh out of a 3 year relationship, and the only things to follow were bad dates and lonely nights.

“Likes pizza?” Harry says like he’d just caught sight of the guy’s private pictures.

“Yeah? So what?” I feel my defences go up. “Who doesn’t?”

“Yeah but that’s so…basic.” He hands the phone back. “That’s like saying ‘Drinks tea’ or ‘breathes air’.”

“No it’s not!” I wanted this to be a good one so badly, I wouldn’t hear any of Harry’s slander. “It’s relatable, and shows he’s down to earth.”

Harry groans. “Remind me what you do for work?”

I squint at him, unsure where he was going with his. “Analyst.”

“Ah,” he switches his beer back to his other hand and it snaps me out of the moment. I always lost track of time talking to Harry and this couldn’t be one of those times. I had somewhere to be!

“Ah what?” I glance at the door.

“As an analyst you’re used to reading into things-“

“Piss off!” I shut him down. “I’m leaving now.”

“I’m joking!” Harry calls out. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

I don’t respond to him as I walk away but he calls out my name.

“You look great, it’ll be a good date.”

“Fingers crossed,” I echo. “Enjoy your night.”

I find a taxi quickly and sit on my hands the whole way there so I don’t pick at my nails. There was no such thing as out of my league, I remind myself. He was just going to be a guy. A good looking guy.

***

“I’m getting a bit tipsy,” Dave admits. It was half past 9 and we’d had 5 drinks total, one of those being a nervous shot when he hadn’t showed up in the first ten minutes.

“We should get something to eat!” I suggest.

He grimaces. “It’s a bit overpriced in here.”

Oh. He was cheap.

That was rude. I snap out of my darkening thoughts. I couldn’t help it: not only was Dave late, he looked 5 years older than his pictures, which wasn’t a bad thing, but he was also 5 inches shorter than his profile stated.

It was awkward when he came in and I got up to hug him. I’d worn my 3 inch heels expecting to still come to his chest but we’d met at eye level instead. I didn’t want to make it awkward so I had sat down quickly. I regretted wearing these heels. They were chaffing against my feet even whilst sitting.

And the whole evening had been stiff conversation, like rubbing sandpaper against itself. It had ended in a dull evening. He was cute. That was all he had going for him.

“There’s a really good pizza place around here!” I say casually, like I hadn’t Googled the vicinity for an hour after we’d made plans. “I heard it was rated top 10 in the city.

His grimace comes back, it made him more unattractive the more he did it.

“I can go for some chips. There’s probably one down the road, you alright for a walk?”

“Great!” Maybe some fresh air and a change of scenery could spice the night up.

He pays the bill—maybe he wasn’t so cheap, I think. That is until we get to the chips shop and he hangs back for me to order for us. And pay.

I can already imagine retelling this date to my girl friends. They were all engaged or married so my dating stories were always amusing content for our hangouts.

Crossing from 20 to 30 made the stories more tragic than amusing, but I lived to laugh and that’s what I usually did after getting over bad dates like this one.

“It’s a nice night,” Dave says when we get our chips. He douses his in ketchup like a toddler would. Gah!

“It is…”

“Let’s take these outside.”

I’d rather not, with my heels digging into the backs of my feet and the blisters chafing against the fake leather. But I agree.

“So what’s with the pink?” He asks randomly.

“What?” I say over a mouthful of chip. I didn’t care how disgusting I was at this point. He’d done the bill-for-a-bill thing without asking and I’d lost any hope I had for the evening. I may as well be gross.

“The pink, you’ve got it at the bottoms of your hair and your earrings, your lips and your skirt and your heels-“

“I like pink.”

“That’s obvious,” he says dryly. “Is there a story behind it or something? Usually only schoolgirls wear their favourite colour that much.”

And usually only younger boys have fries with they ketchup rather ketchup with their fries, I want to say. But I keep my mouth shut.

“I think it’s overrated that getting older means getting all serious and boring. Pink’s my favourite colour and the world can know it. Be brighter for knowing it too.”

I keep my tone light yet Dave seems to takes my personal philosophy as a direct attack.

“But it’s a bit juvenile isn’t it? You don’t have to be boring just because you’re an adult but no one’s going to take you much seriously all dressed in pink. It’s a bit childish.”

“Not childish enough for you to want to go on a date with me,” I say. My pink hair was on display in my profile as well as many pink outfits throughout my linked Instagram. I know he’d seen it.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, not like that.” He backtracks. His face turns my favourite colour, even in the dark.

“When grown men are obsessed with Star Wars or Lord of the Rings or whatever, nobody bats an eye. They show up with fictional characters on their shirt and tattooed on their arms and it’s all dandy. But you think the world’s going to take me less seriously because I wear a lot of pink?”

“Okay I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.” Dave backs down like I knew he would. I’d known too many boys like him, who charged up when they thought they had an ounce of intellect over me. Reciprocate with even an ounce of assertive energy and they back down like a well-trained dog.

This night was tragic. My hopes up for nothing. And my feet were blistered for no damn reason.

“I think we’ve understood each other just fine.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and toss the rest of my chips away, ignoring the look Dave gives me. “It was a night, I’m going to head home now.”

“Look I-“

“Goodnight.” I walk away. I had no idea what direction but as long as I can end the night with the hope-zapper Dave.

***

On the lift up to my flat I look at myself in the mirror. Dead eyes, flushed and puffy face from the alcohol, and my hair was voluminous from the windy night air. I couldn’t wait to get to my flat and take my stupid heels off. They were so painful they’d now actually gone numb.

My phone rings as I get to my door. Dave. The nerve of that guy!

I put it on silent and fish out my keys but my phone buzzes a second time and I drop them.

“Fuck!” I say just as the door behind me opens.

“Woah!” Harry steps back into his flat after nearly tripping over my crouched figure.

“Ugh sorry,” I stand back up, keys looped around my finger.

“You’re back early.” Harry slowly eyes me from top to bottom. It makes my stomach feel like a washing machine on high. “Nice night with pizza guy?”

“Pizza guy was just like the others.”

I lean against my door and ignore my phone that’s now gone off for the third time in my purse.

“Fair enough. He did say he likes pizza.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I whine. “I just wasted £30 on shite company.”

“Can I offer you a beer or have you had too many?”

I look down at my watch. It was half past 10, and I had work tomorrow but life was short and I was miserable so I follow Harry in.

“I’ll just toss this later.”

It’s only then I realize Harry had a trash bag in his hands and he was in his boxers and a robe. He rests the bag near his door and motions to the fridge as he walks down his hall. “Grab me one too?”

I’d been in Harry’s flat a few time, once when I baked too many sugar cookies for Christmas and he invited me in to eat with him. Another time when he was having a birthday party. I had thought it was cute his friends had done that for him old school. The last time was when my wifi stopped working one weekend and I had to ask him to use his. That was a nice day, both of us were going through busy season and had worked side by side on our laptops until Harry announced we were losers and should stop working to get dinner and watch a movie. That was one of my favourite days living in this complex so far.

I’m still standing in his kitchen when he comes out with sweatpants.

“Why are you still standing there?”

I look down at my shoes and so does he.

“Don’t you want to take those off?” Harry lifts one brow, confused.

“I’m scared.” I say. I didn’t know what I’d find. I felt like I was standing in a pool of blood.

“Why?” Harry was lucky he didn’t know the fear of taking off awful shoes after a long day of breaking them in. Men were lucky that way.

I shift my heel away from the back of the shoe and pain shoots up. It sounds sticky. I whimper. “Can you get me a chair?”

“What did you wear?” Harry’s staring at them with a mixture of fear and confusion. He carries one of his dining chairs to me. “Those are like, torture heels.”

“Tonight was torture.” I sit down and cross my foot over my knee. I take a deep breath. Harry hovers above me not able to look away. “Here goes nothing.”

I pry the shoe away and nearly cry.

“Oh my god!” Harry shouts. “Yo-you’re bleeding! What the f-“

“Oh my god,” I was dripping onto his floor. “Can I get-“

“Tissue!” Harry’s already throwing me his roll but I knock it away.

“I need help. Getting. To the bathroom.”

“Right right.” Harry kicks my shoe away and leans down so I can wrap my arm around his shoulder. I feel like an injured football player but so much more pathetic as I limp to his bathroom.

He sets me down on his toilet seat and blasts the tub with water.

“Sorry,” I limp to the edge of his bathtub and swing myself so that my feet dangle in. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your night.”

“I’m glad you did,” Harry’s voice still carries a hint of shock. “What is wrong with you? That’s diabolical you wearing shoes like that! What’s wrong with trainers? Or sandals? Don’t girls like strap sandals?”

“It just comes with being a woman okay?” I couldn’t answer all his questions. “I still need to take off the other one.”

I was more scared for my right foot than my left.

“Just…deal with that.”

Harry’s tub is filling with water and it stings everywhere it touches my foot. But especially my heel and all of my toes. I switch the knob to cold.

“Okay,” I take a deep breath. “The other fucking shoe.”

I can feel Harry peering over my shoulder. This one feels glued on and I squeal as I comes off. My foot looked like a bruised and crusted mess.

“Holy sh-“ Harry whispers. I dunk it fast in the running water and nearly topple backwards but Harry catches me with his knee and then stays there so I have somewhere to lean. It was nice.

“Bloody hell,” I swear as my feet sting and paint the water pink. “Genuinely so sorry about this.”

“Don’t be.” Harry shakes his head. “But please toss those shoes in the bin and never wear something like that again.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. It’s very possible.”

“I love heels! I just need to break these in.”

“They’re breaking you love.”

I feel him stiffen behind me which makes me suddenly self-conscious. I didn’t really read into his words, love was just a term of affection used around my friends. But apparently it wasn’t something Harry used lightly.

“They are. These ones are going in the bin, DNA and all.” I try to continue casually. This was so weird. Weirder than it needed to be given Harry and I were mates at most; I’d met his girlfriend, I didn’t think of him anything more than a neighbourhood friend. We certainly hadn’t hung out outside our flats before.

“Maybe burn them to be sure,” Harry finally responds. His voice is a bit rougher than before. “Don’t want to get accidentally framed with the free DNA.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be too obvious a murderer to commit anything stealthily. They’d identify the pink-haired giant walking away.”

“You’re not a giant. You’re not even 6 feet.”

“I’m nearly 5’9 which is tall enough for a woman.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry brushes my hair behind my shoulder and a shiver runs up my spine. Maybe I should turn the icy water off. “Plus I like the pink. Makes you more interesting to look at.”

“So I’m not interesting to look at regularly?” I tease. I look up at him and the back of my head hits his thigh.

I see his adam’s apple bob and I suddenly feel vulnerable sitting here like this. I lean forward so my feet are steadied against the tub which is agonizing for my bloody feet but at least I wasn’t leaning against him.

“I said more interesting.”

The room grows quiet and I try not to read into it. Harry thought I was interesting to look at. Okay.

I turn the tap off and the silence in the room becomes unbearable.

“Have you got any plasters?” I turn inch by inch so I don’t slip on the lip of the tub or need more help from Harry. The energy in here was weird and him touching me was going to make it weirder.

“Yeah,” he’s eager to leave only to come back laughing. “They’re actually here. I…”

He opens a drawer and pulls a box out along with a tiny vial.

I take it from him, some sort of ointment oil. Why not.

“Motherf-“ I bite my lip as the ointment stings my cuts. “Why wouldn’t you warn me!”

Harry laughs again and it eases the tension a little. “I thought you knew it would burn!”

“I don’t treat cuts often jeez!”

“Sorry! That friend—you met him at my party, black curly hair, the one who does custom stuff?”

“Oh yeah I remember.”

“I helped him out one summer. I had to hand cut all these signs using one of those exacto blades? Cut my hands up so many times I had to buy something for them after one of them got infected.”

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of an infected cut and douse my other foot in the oil, swearing as I take the pain.

“I have a roll and cotton if you want to bandage your foot?” Harry suggests. “I don’t know if regular plasters cut it.”

“That’s so dramatic,” I usually stuck a couple plasters on and got on with it. But this was also the worst I’d ever had with breaking shoes in.

“Let me-“

“No!” I push Harry’s shoulder away as he leans down with the roll of bandage he’d procured. “Harry do not touch my foot!”

“I’ve dressed grosser,” he holds my heel gently and I try to yank it away again without falling into the tub but it’s impossible. I settle for pushing him away.

“Harry please! I’ve intruded enough stop touching my disgusting foot!”

“I’ve seen you wash it. It’s not disgusting, just bloody. Now stop squirming about!”

“Why are you…” I trail away because he wasn’t listening. He dabs my foot with a cotton pad and then begins the process of bandaging my heel and then my toe. I try not to squirm at how embarrassing this was.

Harry’s gentle and attentive as he moves on to the other foot which should make me feel okay but only adds to the humiliation. We were so not close enough to do this—I don’t even know if I’d do the same for him.

Another part of me knows I would. Despite knowing him in passing, plus a few solid occasions, I could tell Harry was one of the good guys. He was always chivalrous around the building, friendly in any interaction I’d seen with him, loved enough to be thrown a surprise birthday party, and caring enough to always ask about how I was doing. And to do this.

When he glances up I don’t expect it. Our gazes clash and the weird energy from before creeps in again.

“Sorted,” he lets my foot down gently.

“Harry I owe you like…a massive dinner, and drinks are on me forever forward.”

“That’s not necessary,” he chuckles as he puts his little first aid kit back. “Just don’t wear heels like that again please. It’s not worth it.”

“They’re so pretty though,” I sigh. They’re now discarded on the tiled floor, the insides bloody.

“Let’s get you that beer,” he holds a hand out.

“I can’t. I’ve kept you late and you probably-“

“One beer.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“Just one,” his tone is gentle but he’s not taking no for an answer.

“Fine!” I admit defeat. He helps me up and together I limp to his couch.

We sit in silence for a bit while we drink. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but the events of the evening play in my head.

“He actually insulted me.” I blurt. Before he can ask questions I explain. “Firstly he was late, then he was droning on and on about shit I don’t even remember anymore. Then he was cheap about food, but because he paid for drinks he got me to pay for chips. Then he said I wear too much pink and nobody would take me seriously as an adult. That it was childish.”

“Really?” Harry leans forward from his end of the couch. “He said all that?”

“Yeah! I said men are allowed to wear their Star Wars shirts and Lord of the Rings bullshite. And when a woman wears more than one article of pink she’s childish?”

“What a prick.”

“I know!”

“You’re too good for someone like that.”

“Thank you,” I sit back, seen and validated.

“The pink makes you cool, stand out in a crowd. He’s just blind to look at you and think that. Or he’s just intimidated.”

“Oh yeah he lied about his height! So I stood there in those stupid pink heels taller than him.”

“That must have got him,” Harry grins. “I actually love that story.”

His words warm me.

“You’re so nice Harry,” I tell him. “Honestly you’re like a gem of a guy.”

“I’m not that nice-“

“Don’t tell me you’re a bad boy or something because you’re a solid good guy. Rare. Never change.”

“Hmph,” he clears his throat.

“Your girlfriend’s lucky. A lot of us have to put up with trolls before we find a good guy like you.”

Harry stays silent. Maybe I’d said too much. Maybe I should stop drinking.

“We broke up. Wasn’t good enough for her.”

Shite. Blistered, bloody, bandaged foot directly in mouth..

“I-I’m sorry. To hear that! Oh my god yeah I guess I haven’t seen her in a while-“

“Yeah been a few months now. I’m mostly over it.”

“How long were you two dating again?”

“Almost 3,” Harry twists his mouth to the side. I’d never seen him look bitter before. “I accepted it, the end of us. Until I hear from a friend she jumped right into another relationship. So…that must have been behind the scenes near the end of our relationship.”

Bitter indeed. “That’s a shitty way to find out too.”

“I wish she was just honest. Y’know like, I met someone else whatever. At least that way I took the hit at once and then got over it. Instead after a month of moving on I just got punched all over again.”

“That’s a dick move.” I agree. “I’ve seen you so many times the last few months why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t want to bring down the mood. Felt too loaded for a conversation on the lift.”

“You could have saved it for a walking-to-the-tube conversation?”

“Then just part ways after dropping that on you?”

“Isn’t that perfect?” I tease and he covers his face. I change the subject. “My 3.5 year relationship ended when he said he didn’t see me as marriage material.”

“I thought it was a mutual breakup?” Harry asks. I’m surprised he remembers what I told him when I first moved in.

“I lied. I didn’t want you to see me as your pathetically lonely neighbour.”

He laughs at that. At least I’d gotten a smile back on his face. “I thought it was a bit suspicious but I didn’t push it. Every time I saw you when you first moved in it always looked like you cried.”

“Oh my god!” I cover my face. “Don’t tell me that! That’s so embarrassing!”

It was true. I cried for three weeks straight after the breakup but I also thought I was sly enough to get around unnoticed.

“It’s not a big deal! I used to worry about you.”

“That’s another thing that’ll keep me up at night now—but see that’s sweet! You barely knew me and you worried. Like! You were raised right.”

“Sure,” he smiles my way with a laugh in his eyes. He was enjoying making me squirm but it’s this smile, one I’d never seen before directed at me, that made me squirm the most.

“Okay now stop being sweet and kick me out.” I gingerly stand and suck up the fresh pain that comes back.

“You can stay as long a-“

“Harry.” I look at him seriously. “I know we both work demanding jobs, and that’s what we have to do tomorrow morning. It’s past midnight and I should go.”

He sighs and gets up to help me hobble to his door.

“Good thing I live next door—oh my shoes. They’re in your-“

“I’ll get them to you later.” He promises.

“You just want to try them on in private.” I tease as he opens his door. He waits while I fish through my purse again for my keys. I remember then the missed calls from Dave—that feels so long ago.

“I like my feet whole.” He chuckles. “Plus I’m tall enough.”

“Some girls think 6 feet is short.”

“How do you know I’m 6 feet?”

I turn my key and let my door swing open.

“I’m good at telling heights.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Well,” I turn back to him and put my hand on my head. “I get my height and then just measure against the person. I gauge the inches which if I’m close enough-“ Harry moved closer to me so there’s only a few inches between us. “Uhm. If I’m close enough it’s easy to count up or down.”

“So you count up-“

“Three or so inches.” I look up, determined to meet his eye. It was just Harry. I didn’t need to feel weird around my neighbour Harry.

But I can’t look away. I never noticed the depth of his eyes; they’re mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

“It’s a neat party trick.” He says so low, but we’re so close it’s loud as hell to my ears. Or maybe that’s the blood rushing through my head.

“Don’t really go to enough parties to turn it into a trick.” My voice comes out squeaky and I clear my throat. “Mostly useful to compare a dating profile to the real thing.”

“Hm,” he hums. His fingers toy with the pinks of my hair before draping it behind my shoulder.

“I should go.” I say for the millionth time.

He looks at me again and I forget why I should go. His gaze drops to my lips and I feel hot—hotter than the pain on my bloody feet.

“You’re the real thing.”

It’s unconscious, the way I arch up to him. It’s natural, the way he meets me halfway. It’s unforgettable, the way his soft lips feel on mine.

Until I lean my weight on my toes and I’m reminded of my broken feet, this evening, and who I was kissing.

I couldn’t be kissing my neighbour! I saw him nearly every damn day!

“Har-“ I push gently at his chest and he’s quick to move back.

“Sorry I-that-“

“No I’m sorry that was me-“

“We should…”

“Yeah.” I grasp behind my back until my hand touches my doorframe. “Um…thanks for everything. Tonight.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s flushed and somehow more attractive than I’ve ever noticed. He also has a smidge of pink lipstick at the corner of his mouth but I file that away for later. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” I turn and quickly close my door, knowing Harry was not going to be the first to leave. Despite my head telling me not to, I turn and peep through the peephole. He’s still leaning against his doorframe, head bowed, running his hand through his hair. I watch him mutter something and then go in. I stay there until the automatic light switches off and then sink to the floor.

Harry. Friendly, funny, neighbour Harry. He’d dressed my bloody feet, served me beer, and then kissed me.

I touch my lips. I wasn’t even mad about it. This was going to be complicated no doubt, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

***

I manage to avoid Harry for a week. Which is a pretty impressive feat given our doors nearly open onto each others.

But he catches me on the lift after work one day. There’s already two others beside me and Harry nearly misses the lift, slipping in just as it’s closing. He does a double take when he sees me.

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

“Smart choice of shoes.”

We look down at my Stan Smiths.

“I’ve learned my lesson…for now.” I look back up at the row of numbers. The lift stops on floor 5 and the couple get out.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states simply when the door closes.

“I have not!” I finally look at him and nearly lose my breath. When did he become so attractive?!

“We see each other almost every day living the way we do. And you’re telling me we managed to miss each other for a week?”

I shrug, “it’s been a weird week.”

“When did the weird week start?”

Saved by the bell. The doors open to our floors with a ding, but Harry blocks me from my front door.

“Are you serious?” I try to sidestep him but he stays in my path.

“We should talk.”

“We’re talking now.”

“C’mon.” He sighs and moves out of my way. I sigh myself before opening my door and leaving it open behind me. He takes the hint.

“I want to apologize for that night.” Harry says. “I was just feeling vulnerable and it shouldn’t have happened-“

“You’re joking right? I was going on about how good you were and I got a little too into it I think. I totally kissed you so I’m sorry. For making it weird-“

“I kissed you,” Harry tries to correct me.

“No I kissed you so I should apolog-“

“No.” Harry cuts me off.

“Why are we arguing about this?” I throw my hands up. We’re standing in the entryway going back and forth about this. It was stupid. “We’re both sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just move on okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “So we’re friends? You’re not going to avoid me in the building?”

“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “Cuz I wasn’t avoiding you in the first place.”

He laughs, throwing his head back and my breath catches. I lied. I wasn’t sorry I kissed him but I was sorry it ruined our friendship. Damnit.

“You’re impossible.”

“I thought I was the real thing?” I ask without thinking.

Slightly healed, but still bruised foot, directly in mouth!!!

“Impossible things can be real,” Harry’s mood changes. He stands taller and he takes a step towards me. “Do…do you want us to just move on?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

“I…we live right next to each other Harry. It’s-“

“Unconventional but not impossible.”

“Impossible.”

“But it can still be real.”

I can’t help it. I grin at how serious he was being with his play on words. He was serious about this though. It scared me a little.

“A date.”

“What about it?” I ask.

“We go on a date, see how things are. It they’re weird we go back to friends like we always were. If it’s good…”

“Okay. How about Friday?” I wanted this as much as it seemed like he wanted it. Dating was hard, apps were impossible. This good and kind man standing in front of me was impossible and real.

“Friday’s perfect. Wednesday would be even better.”

“Today is Wednesday.” I say before realizing what he meant.

“It is.”

“Okay. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be on time.” Harry’s grin is contagious.

“Great.” I watch him walk back to the door.

“One favour?” He asks. I ask him what it is. “Wear something pink?”

“Most definitely.” My heart surges and I feel seen. So seen.

I think he was the real thing too. Impossibly real. And possibly something more than neighbourly friends.

Excited and hopeful were an understatement. I couldn’t wait.

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #one shot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #fic #impossibly real #i’ve been writing a little again #most of my stuff is angsty and annoying so #heres the fluffier piece lol

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mrspockify · 4 months

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He loves me.

#sorry I haven’t been active lately 🥴#I’ve been preoccupied and also sick and also lacking in creative inspiration #and school starts again tomorrow and I’ll have an internship starting soon #so I’m a little 😵‍💫#but hi I am still here and alive #very behind on fics (both reading and writing 😅 sorryyyyy)

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idolomantises · 1 year

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there's something so comforting about artists you admire talking about their own struggles and insecurities

#txt #was watching supereyepatchwolf's video on chainsaw man again and listening to fujimoto express regret about things he didnt learn #and how he's clearly envious of his peers is so... comforting?#i think about my own strengths and flaws and often times i get so frustrated with my shortcomings #im not good at drawing feet; my backgrounds are purposefully simplistic and lack a lot of detail; sometimes my designs have a tendency to #overlap or feel very 'safe' in terms of what i really want to do #its why; despite my love for clowning on media and animated works. i never want to feel like its from a place of malice #the joy of art is always seeing those little mistakes and nuances. its also noticing the achievements other creators have made that you #still lack #even for a certain hell-based show i love to poke fun at for its many. many issues. its undeniable how incredibly passionate the work is.#and i do respect anyone who is willing to get their flawed media out there (myself included)#i see stuff about people calling me their inspo or how flattered they are when i compliment their work and its like. gee. i hold myself at #such a high bar and even still im always surprise when people tell me how much my work moved and changed them #i really love writing just little fun things that i just dont really see anyone else touching and its kind of fun how despite my own #personal grievances with my own flaws and mistakes #people really do find things that they love within them.#anyways I know this is getting long but I’ve just been getting sentimental abt the creation of art #sometimes people make fun of me for love of drawing women and lesbians and bugs and so on #and while I will never let me deter me from my process. sometimes it does get to me #but then I remember that I love doing this and could ever see myself holding back #and knowing despite how other people feel. I have so many followers who resonate with my weird ass shit #that it’s all worth it. ya know?

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cadaverousdecay · 6 months

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i’m so overwhelmed by things that shouldn’t be overwhelming...

#among them‚ i’ve fallen behind on drscula dauly for the first time this year and it’s stressing me out cuz i really really wanted to keep up #this year that was the one goal i had for the year is keep up with it. last year i fell way behind when my brother died and it was so hard #catching up and the entry on the 30th was a little longer than they’ve been recently and i’ve been busy and also slipping back into depressi #on real bad and i’m just not in the mood for it and i feel like it’s just gonna snowball #and this is such a non issue. it’s a book. that i’ve read before. but still it’s just stressing me out. among other things #like library books that are overdue and i haven’t finished or journal entries i want to write or a letter i’ve been wanting so badly to writ #e and a short story idea that i wanted to write down but is escaping me and fucking. tumblr notifications #these are non issues!!! but it feels like there’s a timer for the world to end again all the same.#ugh #and i should be able to focus on one thing and get it done! these things shouldn’t be hard! they’re even meant to be enjoyable! but i can’t #get myself to do anything lately #and on top of all that i’m not able to fall asleep even with my sleep meds.#what even ever‚‚‚#anyway sorry for the rant i’m basically fine

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collectivecloseness · 9 months

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I like that fact that you as a writer agree that Kurt is so a sub

Kurt is such a sub. One who probably thinks, or likes to act like he’s a dom at first, but then his first partner immediately sinks their teeth into him, like “I know what you are.”

Kurt Kunkle x reader

Kurt moans shakily, but with volume, underneath you. His brown eyes up at you while his hands hold your hips for dear life. Trying to get his heart to slow down so he can get his words out, while he watches you riding him hotly from above.

“Pl-Please? Please I need to cum!”

“No.”

Kurt cries out, whining and a sob leaving his throat. Thrashing slightly underneath you, his head falling to the side dramatically on his pillow, as a whine starts to rise in his bare chest.

He’d already tried hiding his boner for nearly an hour before this but it just wouldn’t die, not when you looked so sexy lying on your front next to him as you both watched tv in bed. Kurt randomly starting to feel in the mood as he did every day, looking at the way your chest pressed up against your arms, how your foot kept kicking back and stroking his waist. And fuck, that skirt riding up your thighs.

Watching them press and squeeze together, especially when you laughed with the film. Looking at the way they’d shift, rolling into his bed sheets, sometimes that thigh gap driving Kurt crazy, or fuck, when they spread just that bit and Kurt could imagine he could see what panties you were wearing today, under the dark of your clothing. Kurt had even gotten to feel your thighs, just under your skirt. You’d let him slip his hands between both your warm thighs, tight and heated against his grasp. Feel the back of them just under the shadow of your skirt, his fingers tracing up there lovingly, exploratory, before he could cup the sides of them. But you’d later said that was a treat, and it meant you got to be more in charge now.

But then you teased him while sitting directly on the bulge in his grey jeans, asking if he could feel how wet you were through only your panties, and when he sadly admitted he couldn’t, not letting him get out of his pants yet so he could. And after you spent about five whole minutes only kissing his torso, his sensitive stomach, you’d been on top of him fucking hard for so long now. Well, long enough Kurt wanted to let go for the first round. But while Kurt liked your dominance earlier, even nodding underneath it, now he was too needy to sit back, be quiet and play good.

Kurt pouts up at you after your denial, at first determinedly, with those big shiny puppy eyes at you. Hands still clawing into your thighs though.

But at his frowning pout, you only teasingly “Aww” at him, moving one hand from where it’s pushing his tanned chest down, to gently tugging and playing with his hair. Kurt pushing your hand away.

Until that is, you see a thought appear behind his eyes. Gently he brings your hand back, with the one not holding you for stability, as you keep rocking, and he squeezes tenderly, pouting with a more innocent look now. And a sweet voice. “Please? I’ll be really good next time.”

“Uh uh. That’s what you said last time, and the next time you were a brat, like you usually are.” You raised a brow, slowing down just to hump lazily against his cock now. Your fingers splayed on his soft stomach while you feel him practically already throbbing inside of you, you’re surprised he hasn’t blown already. Still, you love watching your Kurt be teased.

Kurt looks like he’s about to strop again, pull a mini tantrum, until he thinks about his apparent reputation. Even though he has to breathe through his mouth because it feels like any blood he has is being pumped straight to his cock right now, and he can feel that sweat on his upper lip, he swallows his moans and self pity to try and focus on working on you instead. And Kurt knows how to do that.

“I’ll eat you out for three hours straight.”

He promises it. Bucking just underneath you, glad it gets you to start circling your hips more, as you’re practically sat on him at this point. And his lips are already watering, through his slight pants.

“Kurt, you try to do that anyway. I have to literally drag you off me by the hair after two. That’d just be an extra reward for you.”

“You won’t let me do anything!” Kurt yells slightly, all wound up. Breath shaky as he tries not to sob under you. He can feel you pulsing around him, squeezing his desperate cock so badly, like you’re teasing him even more! And he’s trying so so hard not to just bust in you right there.

Whines wracking his body as you experimentally bounce on him. Wanting to cross his arms over his chest, or throw them up in defeat, but only able to squeeze your thighs more in need, and grip onto you for dear life, while whining vocally.

Which is when you decide to make your move. Sitting right down on Kurt rather suddenly, with a force that gets him to gasp, giving you the opportunity to take your poor boyfriends chin in between your thumb and fingers, and make him look up at you.

“Hey... If you start being a good boy for me, I’ll let you cum inside, like I promised.”

Kurt’s eyes widen.

He shoots up, leaning up instead, while you still have a grip on his chin, bouncing on his cock, before Kurt’s immediately attaching his mouth to your neck.

Kurt kisses up and down your neck so much. Moaning as his plush lips and wet tongue taste you, kissing and sucking marks into your flesh, grazing his teeth over it, and moaning genuine breaths of pleasure and need, hot onto your spit covered skin. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this too.

Your hand gripped his full brown hair, and he could feel your loud moan from your throat against his mouth and tongue, as you arched your head back loud, fucking down stickily onto his hard cock. Gripping onto Kurt’s hair and neck, as he lapped needily onto your own, fucking back up into you with his hands squeezed tight around your thighs. Tasting you, as your thrusts get harder and harder, and he can moan more right into your neck.

Maybe he really should start working on being a good boy for you more often.

#citrussy #Kurt Kunkle/reader #Kurt Kunkle Drabble #Kurt Kunkle #Kurt Kunkle x reader #spree 2020 #anon #ask #1k #just a shorter one tbh I need to write a bit more Kurt recently!#I loved writing a little more for him again! I need to find smth v inspiring to get a much longer one out for my baby as well #I am always open for Kurt time ✌️#if anyone has any specific Kurt ideas lmk!#I think bc I’ve been bleh in my own life recently I need something that like just comes out and surprises/excites me to rly start writing to #my full potential a bit more atm maybe

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simgerale · 1 month

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me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

#hi everyone #I’m going around hugging you all #okay now that we are gathered here today #i will simply acknowledge that i have been gone for a very long time and then also acknowledge that maybe it was for the best #i relied on sims to be my only creative activity even if i tried to write a book at the same time #and also. i prioritized sims over real life responsibilities. that’s just a deadly combination lol #but I recently noticed I just replaced sims with Netflix. with YouTube. with anything that gave me quick dopamine #literally became addicted in a sense. still am but I’ve been cut cold turkey from most everything #I get off work and go. okay I’ve done the dishes and the laundry……..I could read or write or bake….#I try to write and sometimes i get a good hour #then I read for a few hours and then get tired of it #and I made cookies Tuesday so I’m waiting for those to be gone before baking again #I’m just so pitiful that I feel BORED and don’t know what to do #so I said….. okay what if I do sims for an hour.#I downloaded some new cc Tuesday and tried to play yesterday #y’all ……………….. I can’t find the energy anymore to set up elaborate scenes and pose my sims and plan posts #I said wow… this is boring without my intervention and fake story #I said wow…….. all this for what? for tumblr? yes I created cool things and provided joy. but is that inherintly important compared to my #own joy? my own everyday activities I should be doing?#y’all I do not leave the house unless we got out to eat or shop or travel to our parents #.. I have little desire to. I’m trying to find that desire #but my husband is busy with grad school and work and I don’t want to do anything by myself #I’ve found myself in one heck of a slump #I didn’t want to be human for awhile. just had no desires no interests no ambitions #I was slacking off SO HARD at work. I just had no drive to do well #I’m still working on it. I’m still trying to get caught up. I’m still trying to force myself to move every day.#but I am struggling y’all. and I can tell you that sims… sims isn’t helping rn but I want it to so bad. I want to get back into it #I didn’t mean to disappear on everyone. I got married and then life got busy and then I fell into this hole of nothing #I didn’t even WANT to crawl my way out. but my husband has helped a lot. I feel like such a child!!!!#I reached max tags. 🙃 bye love you all. till next time

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bravo4iscool · 5 months

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simon riley witnesses a terror attack

this randomly came to my mind and i though i’d share it with you lol.

this is only a headcanon (!!), i won’t force anyone to believe this and i’m well aware that he’s fictional (since i’ve got so much shit for my last ghost headcanon😍)

this is inspired by the story of “obi wan nairobi”. in 2019 christian craighead, a SAS-operator stationed in kenia, witnessed a terror attack in kenia and decided to act before the police arrived. he had his gear with him, neutralized two of five terrorists and saved multiple civilians.

(masterlist)

if there would ever be a (terror) attack or a hostage taking, in public, while simon “ghost” riley is off duty and he’d witness it, that man would drop every fucking thing, rush to his car (he’s keeping his gear there. you never know) and he would walk into that bloody building like he’s fucking immortal, eliminating threat after threat.

precise shots and inaudible footsteps. this man is almost floating through the building, becoming one with his callsign. he’s becoming a ghost.

his vest is stacked with grenades and rifle magazines, the hand gun strapped to his leg as good as weightless.

adrenaline is pumping through his veins but his head is clear. he saves hostage after hostage, tugging them behind him and urging them to just run. he’d be extra careful with kids, talking to them to assure them that the man with the scary skull mask is actually there to safe and not hurt them.

by the time the police arrived almost every hostage is safely outside and the threat eliminated.

but before anyone can identity the SAS-operator who saved all those people and neutralized the threat Ghost is already gone, walking past the crime scene without his mask. He stands behind the striped police tape and listens to one of the hostages telling a police officer about the skulled ghost who saved them.

simon can’t help but smirk at that.

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #call of duty #cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #please don’t give me shit for this again😍#i don’t want another person stalking my insta over a silly little tumblr post😍#i’ve been already insulted enough my anons over my headcanons🥰🥰#call of duty headcanons #how would simon riley react during a terror attack off duty??#well i’m about to tell you hehehe

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why-the-heck-not · 1 year

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hate hate hate the feeling of turning in a part of an assignment and being hella embarrased abt how it is :3 like, feeling someone’s just gonna email me like ”hey?? what the fuck ??? what are u doing here this is garbage” like yeah dude i dont know what to tell you, things did not go well this week

#doing one that’s like a bigger thing but has weekly deadlines #and this week hasn’t been good for that so it’s like very fucking pathetic of how little I got done #and it’s all basically shit anyways like i know it doesn’t work and won’t work with the way I’m going about it #also I’m only submitting the previous version bc i don’t even fuckin know what’s going on with this current one #like the code’s all bad and all over the place and I have no clue where i’m trying to go with it #so it’s like i basically didn’t get shit done this week #only made myself more confused #i need to take a step back and like really fuckin think what I’m going to do with this bc it’ll just get worse if I just keep trying to go #with this shitty thing i have on my hands rn #and also im like over an hour late already bc gotta write a weekly report and idk what the fuck to say like #’’oops sorry dude it’s shit rn i have no clue what’s going on but also dont have anything i could ask help with bc im too confused so it’s #just uhh this thing now; a mess <3’’#the way i’ve been handling this course like ?? uh oh will i ever have the audacity to step a foot to my campus ever again lol #yes im now writing this to procrastinate writing that weekly report thing #ughhh yes im hella positive rn all is shit #(also there was parliamentary election today and it didn’t end well so that might be why everything feels 5x more shitty rn)#april 2023 #2023

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celestial-toys · 2 months

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crawls out of my writing cave on all fours, disheveled and holding a twenty-four-thousand-word-long document between my teeth

#i have. finally finished the WIP i’ve been struggling to write for the last 3 months!!!#Seven’s Celestial Commentary #writing stuff #[N]MbD #[Not] Made by Design #this little hurt/comfort oneshot got. a bit out of hand. and now has way more plot than i originally intended #but i am Quite happy with the direction it went in so it’s all good #just gotta figure out how to split it into chapters for readability on AO3 #24k feels too long for one page even tho it’s a oneshot… sigh it’s AEIWNF all over again #anyways i’m so happy to have gotten that fic out of my brain. feels good man #i’m so ready for [N]MbD’s series to consist of more than one (1) spicy fic. there’s So much more to the AU than that #new hefty installment in the [N]MbD AU comin’ atcha… Soon™️#soon meaning once i finish publishing the rest of AEIWNF and the shorter [N]MbD oneshot that i want posted first #now that i’m sitting on a number of finished WIPs for other things i finally feel ready to return to writing for ES #i’d like to chip away at the next few chapters of that fic while i post my backlog of other stuff that’s ready to go

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skyward-children · 11 months

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…and Lanayru Sand Sea in general

#EVERY #TIME #EVERY DANGED TIME #ever since I walked into that little sandy shack and heard the empty music #I have not been the same #anyway.#I’ve been meaning to write a fix it fic for that #before I was planning on them making like. a timeshift stone powder and using it on the robots #but I could literally just use ancient flowers since that’s canonical 💀#anyway. that’ll be sometime eventually #once I get my life together #skyward sword #legend of zelda #don’t even TALK to me about how sad botw was nothing comes close to the tragedy of the empty little shack full of sand #with the two robot corpses #and the sad music and pictures #and skipper knows he will never see them again #lanayru sand sea

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whumpacabra · 3 months

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34. Pressure Cooker

Referenced military setting and activities, referenced past captivity and torture, law enforcement mention, murder mention, referenced systematic and internalized racism, past trauma, victim blaming, fictional politics

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison was tired. He wasn’t that surprised - his body had been pushed to its physical limit, and finally having a respite from survival meant an exhausting recovery. He was surprised he wasn’t dozing off in that cozy diner, listening to a static filled radio. Lucy had gone out for a smoke with Merrill close behind, and Thomas was drinking his tea, eyes glued on the snow falling outside the window.

(Not too long ago he would have chided Elias for getting distracted by the weather during a mission debrief.)

“What’ll you do?” Thomas’ voice was timid, eyes drifting down to the mug in his hands. “Across the border, I mean.”

“Making sure we’re safe would be a good start. Make sure my family’s safe - whether that’s here or there.” Harrison studied the steam rising from Thomas’ oversteeped tea. “I don’t…Wolf can do what he wants. Stay, leave - last thing I want to do is start giving orders.” He chuckled weakly, grief thick in his lungs as his eyes dropped to his own scarred hands. “God knows I’m shit at following them myself.”

“How…” Thomas swallowed a mouthful of bitter tea and took a shuddering breath. “I mean, how does - how does this even happen? I - and why? Why the - the terrorist - why even…” He swallowed more bitter tea, anger and confusion painting his pale face. Harrison glanced between his hands and Thomas’ young, naive eyes.

“Why’re you a cop?” Thomas physically startled at the question, tea nearly splashing from his cup. He set it down slowly, eyes dropping to the table.

“Something to do I guess. Sheriff kinda took me in after my folks passed.” His brow furrowed, pale eyes glancing up to Harrison’s own. “Why?”

“Just curious I guess - well, I mean… I only signed up because of my dad.” He couldn’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “He loved this country - a whole helluva lot more than I ever did. Between my sister going to med school and me off to boot camp I mean - we were his American dream.”

“Sounds like a good patriot.”

“He was.” Harrison huffed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “Got shot on his way home from the store two - three, three years ago now.”

“Oh…I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be - you’re not the cops that called it a random homicide and never caught the fuckers that did it.”

“It wasn’t random?” There was a tense, curious gleam in Thomas’ eyes.

“A Sudanese immigrant named Mahmoud gets gunned down a month after 9/11. Cops said there was no evidence racial motivation, so as far as they care, it was just a random tragedy.”

“That’s just - they’re idiots. What kind of investigation - just, just gives up like that?”

“You’re young, Thomas.” Harrison shook his head, eyes turning to the snow outside. The ignorant indignity of youth was clear on the young man’s face. “Most people don’t care about justice or truth. They just care about staying comfortable. And it’s a helluva lot more comfortable for some cops to bury a brown man without any questions asked than it is to consider why someone killed him.”

Thomas’s expression fell slack, thoughts churning behind his shadowed eyes. There was a beat of silence, and Harrison felt as though his chest was carved open, heart exposed. Maybe it was, because he couldn’t stop talking.

“Two years ago I got reassigned.” He had thought about it - they all had, at some point. At least Merrick and Elias had, in silent code and whispered conspiracies while they laid bloodied and broken. “I needed something to throw myself into so I didn’t go on a vigilante justice spree so I accepted. Task Force 42, as I told you. Something about psychological profiles and mission efficiency. Same thing happened to the others in my cohort - we didn’t know each other at all. Hell, Merrick had been stationed in Germany the last 4 years.”

Harrison swallowed, only half sure he cared to tell Thomas, but those pale eyes were transfixed, expression open and curious. Like a child listening to war stories. Like Harrison’s niece asking about the bad guys he caught and epic battles he fought.

“We were good. I don’t know shit about psychology or whatever but they handpicked us to get shit done and by god we did.” It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t always just. “We…you’ve heard about the videos, right? Terrorists executing prisoners, torturing them, carrying around trophies.” Thomas’ nod was grim and serious. The news loved their shock value viewing numbers. “We had some of our own. Taking prisoners. Interrogating them. Putting them out of their misery. Not - not that my team did that directly. We just…caught the bad guys.”

Harrison shuddered, the memory of explaining his job to his young, impressionable niece bitter. He had been so desperate to prove himself to the higher brass. Self loathing and trying to show them - ‘see! I’m one of the good ones.’ He hated that he ever deigned to stoop to their level. He hated that he ever thought it immunized him to the cruelty of the war machine.

“The enemy is easy to - it’s amazing. It’s amazing how stupid it all seems now. How trusting we were.” In spite of his exhaustion, or maybe because of it, his brain was buzzing with unfiltered understanding. “They told us shoot, we shot. Capture, we captured. The enemy was whoever they told us the enemy was. Because - right, because - because they had our best interests in mind. The country’s best interests in mind. The top brass were duty bound, same as us, to do right by justice and honor and all that bullshit.”

“So, so when you wake up after heading out for another tour, another mission for the good of your people and home, another trip to push back the enemy…god, maybe - maybe if we weren’t so caught up in it all we would have realized.” The emergency lights inlaid in the ceiling of an underground, cavernous bunker. The electrically locked stone tomb. “I - I don’t know why. Why the - the facade or why - why us. Wolf - ” His voice cracked, throat bobbing. “Wolf - they didn’t send - there was just me, Merrick and Elias then. Just us. And Wolf - ”

Oh, how vividly he remembered every second after meeting the Wolf. How wrong he had been about every sneer and smirk. What he thought was glee was fear. A shine of superiority to mask the terror. Puppet strings tied too tight around a scarred throat.

“God, Wolf.” Harrison dropped his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table. “I can’t even begin to - I hated him. I hated him so much for so long and now I just…can’t. I, maybe I’m stupid. Maybe I broke - I did. A few times. Too many times. But I can’t - god I should hate him.”

“Why should you hate him?” Thomas’ voice was so small. So much like Elias. Like the small voice Harrison had strangled to death with his own bare hands. Reality crackled in his brain, cold ice cracking in a too-warm drink.

Maybe he still hated Wolf, he just hated himself more.

“I…I don’t know. I did. I thought - thought he was one of them.” It frightened Harrison, how desperately he felt he needed to protect Wolf. Or at least, how Wolf was perceived. No one needed to know what happened down there. No one needed to know what Wolf had done. What Harrison had done. “But he - god, he was just trying to stay alive. How can I hate him for that?”

There was a moment of silence, save for the static of the radio and the snow outside. Thomas opened his mouth to say something only for the bell above the door to ring, Lucy and Merrill dusting snow from their white hair. Lucy glided up to the booth, snagging a fresh pot of hot water from behind the counter.

“Need anythin’ else, hon?”

“No ma’am. Thank you.” Harrison’s voice was tight, breaths shuddering as he fought down the urge to burst into tears. Later, across the border, when they were safe he could afford to lose it. To grieve and rage and scream. But now Thomas was getting a fresh cup of tea from Lucy, and Mer was watching her wife with love in her eyes.

The cigarette smoke that lingered on Lucy’s clothes made Harrison’s stomach turn.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @whumpy-daydreams

#whump #past trauma #past captivity #past torture #military setting #military activities #law enforcement #murder #fictional politics #idk if everything I put in the tw block applies but I wanted to cover all my bases #freelancers au #‘didn’t you just give us a lore dumpy chapter like two updates ago?’ yes. and I’ll do it again (joking threat)#Harrison has been out of hell for 24 hours he deserves a little breakdown. just a little. as a treat.#another one of those chapters I’ve had done for like a week but I keep staring at it expecting it to be better everytime I edit it #I can’t look at it anymore. woe. mediocre writing be upon ye.

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